Show Me How (It's Kind Of Personal Book 2) (18 page)

His eyes soften. “Yes. We can. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. You’re here now and that’s all that counts. But if you ever want to talk about it, which I think you should, you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“And Mary? You didn’t ruin my life. You made it worth living.”

* * *

The next week, I open the door to Travis, Charlotte, and their adorable baby girl, Caroline. “Hi! Gimme, gimme!” I take the baby out of Travis’ arms, and he gives me a warning look.

“Relax, Travis. She’s not going to hurt her,” Charlotte chimes in, removing Caroline’s hat.

He doesn’t respond but grunts and walks into the apartment.

“Sorry. He’s a little overprotective.” She gives me an apologetic smile.

“I would be, too. Look at her, she’s gorgeous.” I kiss her cheek and cradle her in my arms to join the brothers on the couch who are watching sports news.

“Damn, bro. She got so big.” Brandon tries to take her from me, but I pull back.

“No. You can hold her while I’m gone.”

“Okay.” He holds his hands up in surrender and laughs.

“Mary, we really should go. I don’t want to be late.”

For Valentine’s Day, the guys got us a day at the spa and we’re going today.

“Do I have to?” I kiss the baby’s head and pass her to Brandon.

“She’ll be here when you get back.” He takes Caroline and kisses me on the forehead.

“You guys are still staying for dinner, right?” I ask.

“Yes. We are. Now, let’s go.” Char gives Travis a chaste kiss and pulls my hand, heading toward the door. “I’ve been looking forward to this so bad. I love my baby, but I want a massage more than my next meal.”

We yell our goodbyes and I give her directions to the salon.

I curl my legs on the seat and turn to face Charlotte. “I can’t get over how cute Caroline is.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

“Has she been sleeping any more for you?” Last time I talked to her, she had complained that she was only getting three hours of sleep at a time.

“Yes, thank God. She goes for about five and a half hours straight.” She turns and looks at me before the light turns green. “So . . .”

“So, what?”

She laughs. “I need the deets, woman.”

“What deets?”

“Come on, Mary. You know all my shit. You still haven’t told me what happened between you and Brandon.”

“Ugh. You’re relentless. Didn’t I already tell you the past is the one thing I won’t talk about with you?” I try to lighten my tone, but there’s a finality to it. Why are people so insistent to know details?

“Fine,” she snaps then takes a breath. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I grew up with the Parkers.” I can tell her some of it, I’ll just leave out a little bit. “And I always had a crush on Brandon. I didn’t think he felt the same way, and it scares me that one day he won’t want me anymore once he realizes I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“You’ve gotta be joking, right?”

“Huh?”

“Anyone can see the way that man looks at you, Mary.”

She pulls into the salon and turns to look at me. “I know it’s a hard subject, and I’m not asking you to talk about your past. I’d like to think eventually you‘d trust me enough to share. And I won’t push you anymore.”

Now I feel like shit. I don’t mean to be such a bitch, I try not to be closed off, but it’s so hard to let people in. “I’m really sorry. And I promise, I’ll tell you . . . eventually.”

“Deal.”

Charlotte and I enjoy an afternoon of massages and facials. Finally, we go into the large area where women get their hair and nails done. I have an unnatural attachment to my hair and never get it cut. I only trim it myself when it gets too long, so I’m sitting in a chair getting a pedicure while Char is on the other side of the room getting highlights.

I try to tune out the girls who are sitting around me, but their voices are too excited not to notice. They talk about their most recent trip to Vegas and the random men they hooked up with. One of them shows off her new tattoo while another explains how excited she is that this is her last semester of college.

I slowly sink back into my chair, no longer relaxed and happy. The magnitude of all the things I’ve missed out on slam into me like a boulder. I’m almost thirty-one years old and I’ve not done anything with my life. I’ve never even been to a bar. My birthday is next month, I’ll be over thirty, and I’ve never been on an airplane or a train. I haven’t gone on a camping trip or joined a softball team with friends. I have no friends. I literally have no life. Brandon thinks he saved me from a shitty situation, and maybe he has, but how do you go on existing when you don’t know how to live?

I’ve gone along with him. Opened up to him. We have fun together. We’re in a relationship. Happiness doesn’t begin to describe the way he makes me feel. I’m no longer a maid at a seedy motel. Instead, I’m . . . nothing. A part of me grew up way too fast while the other part is still an insecure eighteen-year-old girl.

Confusion whirls around in my head and panic rises up my throat. I grip the massage chair and breathe through my nose. My head becomes unusually light, and I rest it on the cushion, but it rolls off.

“Ma’am. Are you okay?”

I slowly nod and close my eyes. “Yeah. But I think I’m done.”

“Okay. Do you need something? Water maybe?”

Water sounds good. I’m so hot. “Please.”

The woman drains the tub, takes my feet out of the hot water, and immediately my body cools off. She returns with a bottle of water, and Charlotte on her heels.

“Are you okay?” Char comes up to me and feels my forehead; wrinkles adorn her face out of concern.

“Yes. Fine. Just got a little warm.”

“Can you get up and walk okay?”

I turn sideways in the chair and set my bare feet on the cool wooden floor. When I begin to put pressure on them, my knees wobble and Char grabs me.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” My head is pounding and it takes every ounce of strength I have to slide my feet into my shoes and walk. “I’ll just step outside and get some fresh air. Go finish your hair.”

“No way. Let’s get you home. Do you want to go to the hospital?”

“God, no!” I yell a little too loud. “But if you’re ready, then we can go.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, miss?” The woman who was doing my nails hands me my coat.

“Yes. I’m fine. Too much pampering,” I joke.

Char and I walk to the car. She keeps an arm around me and by the time we get home, I feel better. My head isn’t throbbing anymore and the cold sweats have stopped. The thundering in my chest is still there, but I
feel
fine.

“Hey, did you guys have fun?” Travis is the first to greet us, smiling at his wife.

“We did until she almost passed out.” Char points her thumb at me and I glare at her.

“What?” Brandon pushes past his brother and holds my shoulders, examining me.

“I’m fine. I didn’t pass out. I just got a little overheated while I was getting my pedicure.”

Brandon doesn’t look convinced. “What happened?” he asks Charlotte, ignoring me.

“She was fine all day then I look over from where I’m getting my hair done and her face was pale and she had cold sweats. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost.”

Travis nudges Brandon out of the way and grabs my wrist. “Your pulse is elevated.”

I yank my arm away. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to play firefighter right now.”

His brows rise and he glances at Brandon.

“I’m sorry. That was rude.” I set my hand on Travis’ arm. “But honestly, I’m fine. I just got a little warm.”

“You sure, babe?” Brandon takes my coat and hands it to Char, who hangs it on the peg.

I look at him and pray to God that he can’t read my mind. Because everything inside me is screaming no, while I answer, “Yes.”

Chapter 17

Brandon

She’s lying. I can see right through her. Travis’ eyes catch mine, and he raises his brows in question. I nod and tilt my head toward the door, telling him I want them gone so I can figure out what in the hell is going on with my girl.

“It’s supposed to snow tonight; we should probably go before it starts.” Travis picks up his sleeping daughter and gently puts her coat on.

I still can’t believe he’s a dad. A damn good one, too. Never thought I’d say it, but I’m jealous of him. I feel like that should be me. I should be the one who has a family first, not my little brother. I’m really fucking happy for him, but the underlying jealousy itches at my skin.

“Oh, no. Please don’t go because of me. I’m totally fine,” Mary pleads and grabs my arm, asking for support.

“He’s right,” Charlotte chimes in. “The snow was starting on the way back here. I’m not comfortable being out in it with the baby.”

Mary nods but disappointment sits on her face. We say goodbye, and as soon as I shut the door, she plops down on the couch and flips through the channels. I stand there and watch her. Her left leg bounces up and down. She twirls her hair. Her eyes are on the TV, but she’s not actually watching it.

I stand in front of her, blocking the screen. “Talk to me.”

“What have you done the past ten years?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. What have you done with your life?

I rub my hand over the scruff on my face and contemplate my answer. What I’ve done since I was eighteen is look for her. I’ve been lonely. I was running with no end in sight . . . until I found her. But I don’t think that’s what she wants to hear.

“I went to college and got a job.”

“No . . .” She stands and paces in a circle around the couch then sits on the armrest. “I mean what have you
done?
Did you go on a vacation, clubbing, get a tattoo?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

“See? Guess what I’ve done? Nothing. None of them.” She stands again and walks around to grab my hands, smiling. “Let’s go get tattoos.”

“Uhh . . . I’m not so sure that’s a good idea . . .”

“Why? I think it’s a great idea! I’ve missed out on so much, and when I was sitting there having my nails done, I realized just how much.”

Instead of the normal sadness or disappointment she usually has when talking about the last decade, she actually seems happy right now. “So something did happen at the salon?”

“No. Well, kind of. I was getting my nails done and a bunch of young girls were talking about all this cool stuff they did. I realized that I haven’t done any of it. I’m going to be thirty-one next month. I want some damn life experiences!” She jumps up and down and kisses my cheek. “Come on. You don’t have to, but I want a tattoo.”

I can’t deny her so I nod and we drive to the tattoo shop. The entire time, she can’t stop smiling. When we walk inside, every person turns to see who walked in, and she squeezes my hand a little tighter. I make sure to look at every dude in the place, and make my possession known when I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me to kiss her head then step up to the counter.

I haven’t been in many tattoo shops, but this one looks like all the others. Artistic drawings on the walls, heavy metal music playing, and the buzz of tattoo guns vibrating.

A young woman with spiky bleach blond hair and more rings than I can count in her face smiles at us. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Hey,” I answer, then wait for Mary. She’s the one getting ink, not me. I already have one I got on my arm when I was eighteen.

I nudge Mary when she still hasn’t said anything, too busy looking at all the jewelry in the counter. “Hi. Umm. I want to get a tattoo.”

“Okay. Do you know what and where?”

“Yes.”

Her response shocks me, and I raise my eyebrows at her. “You do?” I thought this was a split second decision.

“Yeah.”

She turns back to the girl and lifts her shirt up, exposing her ribs.
Hell no.
I grab the material and pull it back down, glancing around the room to make sure none of these fuckers saw her. “Leave your shirt down and just point to it,” I whisper.

The girl behind the counter laughs. “Don’t worry. The guys are all really professional. And trust me, a ribcage is about one of the least exciting places they look at.” She raises her eyebrows, and I laugh, my mood immediately lightening.

I can’t help the fierce possessiveness I feel, though. It’s been rooted in me since the moment I met her and has only intensified as the years went on. And now? Now, I don’t want any other man looking at her, let alone touching her soft skin.

“Do you do tattoos?” I ask.

“I do.”

“I want you doing hers.”

Mary laughs and gives me a little push. “If you’re available.”

She looks at the clock then at the appointment book. “I’ve got a couple of hours. What do you want done?”

Mary points to the spot right on her ribcage under the side of her right breast. “I want a stem of sweet peas.”

I try to hide my shock. Sweet peas are our flower.

“Cool. Do you have an image or do you want me to draw one?”

“Can you draw one? I think that’d be cool.”

“Sure. I’ll have you sign the paperwork while I get everything set up.”

I have to give my girl credit. She wanted something and she went for it. Instead of being bummed about missing out, she’s doing something. And I couldn’t be more proud of her.

We wait for about fifteen minutes before someone leads us to a room. I hold Mary’s hand and flinch every time her nails dig into my flesh. Seeing her in pain is the absolute last thing I want. If it were up to me, I’d take her away right now, but she insists she’s fine, so I have to deal with it. Over an hour later, my hand has indentations that I’m not sure will ever go away.

“Okay. All done.”

Mary hops off the chair and turns sideways in the mirror. “I love it,” she whispers. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It looks great, babe. Just adds to your hotness.” I stand behind her and run my fingers over her pink skin, careful not to hurt her, and step back when the artist applies a bandage. I kiss Mary’s neck, and she melts into me.

“Yeah, so. I’ll just meet you guys up front.”

The door closes and I run my hand down her other side, clad in only her bra and a small towel, which I rip away and toss on the ground. “You’re so sexy. You know that, right?”