“This is where you want us to start?” he asks.
I just nod, liking how the soft skin of his wrist feels under my fingertips, and how he keeps staring at my hand on him.
“Well, it’s still there. I didn’t cover it up.” He gently pulls his wrist from my grasp and pushes his sleeve farther up his arm to bravely show me the underside of his forearm.
There it is.
My initials, still there on his skin, but this time, the cursive letters weave around an intricate, stark tree tattoo, the letters wrapping around the branches. Almost like a secret among the woods that mark him now.
I blink a few times, not realizing that I would feel such an ocean of relief at the sight, but my frantic heart can’t seem to catch up. “Oh,” I breathe out.
His tattoos are a work of art. The wrist and upward of his arm have a forest, and a deep, purple night sky above it with artistic designs and swirls between the trees, including the letters H.L.E.
Hailey Lynn Elwood.
My eyes lift from his perfect forearms, strong and manly and sort of beautiful, and I can’t believe my initials are still there now. I don’t know how to recover from my poised freak-out.
“Does everyone know about it?” I can’t even say what it is. I just raise my finger and point at my three initials that are on his skin so strategically that you wouldn’t be able to notice it. It’s clever and stunning all at once.
He chews the inside of his cheek, lifting heavy shoulders as he gruffly responds, “Everyone knows I have your initials tattooed on me except one person.”
“Who?”
“My girlfriend.”
There it is.
“Oh.” It’s like he’s knocked my feet from under me. CeeCee mentioned he had a girlfriend, so I thought I was prepared, but I’m an idiot. I wasn’t given the time to digest it properly. Hearing him confirm it stings more than I’d ever admit out loud. “I heard you had one of those.”
It’s like he’s waiting for me to react, but I can’t. I’ve reacted so much tonight that I might be reacted out.
“Of course you heard about that. Brandon tell you, or Cecelia?”
The question has the corner of my mouth twitching. It becomes clear what Brandon was avoiding during all those awkward moments with him and the boys.
“Cecelia,” I smirk.
“Figures.” He pauses, pawing the ground a second before he lifts his head up to say, “So, did you get all fancy in LA and remove yours?”
My face twists at his tone, but if anything, I understand. I feared the same when I heard Brandon say they all got tattooed. Caiden could have easily covered my initials, but he didn’t, and I can’t tell what it means, or if it means anything at all.
Note to self: dissect that one later.
My eyes focus back on his as I blindly fold down the material of my jean skirt on the right side of my hip to show him his initials.
Each letter of black script curling around the other.
C.L.A.
Caiden Lawrence Anderson
Untouched. Unmarked. Still in its pristine form, just like the memory of that crazy day when we were eighteen.
He stares at it hard, examining it as he licks his lips before bringing his eyes back to mine. “I was worried you’d get rid of it like you got rid of me.”
“That isn’t fair, and you know it.” I shake my head, having to look away. This is one of those moments I expected but could never wrap my head around how to handle. “I had to make a choice, Caiden.”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his eyes heavy. He doesn’t seem afraid; if anything, he seems determined. “And you chose to leave me.”
“You didn’t have to make me choose.” I rake my fingers through my blonde waves. How do I explain myself?
His loud, disgruntled sigh catches me off guard, and when I see that his eyes are clenched shut as he tries to figure out what to say, I don’t feel so alone in this.
He lifts his tattooed right hand to rub over the thick scruff covering his jaw, and I’m curious what it might feel like against my fingertips. I used to know everything about this guy, every curve, every smile, but now there’s a level of unknown, and it almost feels like an adventure… a terrifying one, a ludicrous endeavor if there ever was one, because isn’t it all impossible now? He’s not mine. He’s someone else’s.
When his eyes fly open, I almost feel guilty for watching him so closely.
“I know—I know, Hailey. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right? Your dreams were bigger than I could understand at the time. Is that fair to admit?” He kicks at a few rocks before trying for more. “At the time, I needed you here with me. You wanted me to go with you to a big city so you could be a writer, but how was I supposed to understand that? All I could understand was, I had to leave everything I knew.”
“We could have made a life there and figured it out together, don’t you think?”
“Ya know, it’s almost cute how you still think it’s so simple. Even when we were kids, you were always so sure of yourself. You always knew what you wanted. I couldn’t run away with you to chase your dream when I didn’t know what I wanted. I only ever wanted you, but I didn’t know what I wanted out of life yet. I know it seemed simple, that I could just follow you, and we’d be fine, but it wasn’t for me. I was terrified. You never even considered what it would be like for me to leave—it kind of killed me. Maybe that was why I made you choose.”
He peers up, puppy-eyed and apologetic through thick brows, and the corners of his mouth droop beneath his scruff. “I know you kept telling me there was a life for me there, but my world was small, Hail. It still is. That wasn’t the life I wanted. That was the life you wanted, and I figured if that was the case, then you were choosing not to include me in this dream of yours. It felt like you knew what was at stake, and you made your choice. You never asked me what I wanted.”
My jaw hits the ground. It’s too much. It’s maybe the most honest thing he’s ever said to me. Even when I left, he allowed me to leave in a cloud of silence. We argued, sure, but it never made sense. He was mad; he was hurt, but I never knew why. He made me choose, and I always thought that was unfair. Now, I realize it wasn’t just about me leaving. It was about him needing as much help as I did to figure things out, and I never considered that.
He continues, “It was childish for me to make you choose. I know that now. We could have compromised. We probably had other options, but we were so young. Things just happened, and we can’t take them back, but hell, I can’t imagine you thinking you made the wrong choice.”
Maybe he thinks he’s complimenting me on my success, but I kind of hate him for it. It was never about right or wrong. Sure, I won the proverbial dream, but I also lost a whole hell of a lot, including him. I’m tempted to tell him but—
“Haiillleeeyyyy!”
Both of us turn around to face the entrance to the bar. I can see a stumbling CeeCee coming toward us with Brandon, whose arm is slung heavily over her shoulder.
I cast a glance at Caiden, who apparently doesn’t seem to care what we’re witnessing because he’s back to staring at me, but he’s fiddling with his bottom lip with his left hand again. This time I notice the tattoo covering his knuckles that spells “true.” It’s distracting. I try to make a mental note to ask what word comes before it on his right hand, but I’m too busy rolling my eyes at his gawking.