Page 54 of PS: I Hate You
For a fabulous moment, I live in the joy of familiarity. I know the brother of this tattoo.
But then reality crashes hard into my chest. So hard that I stumble back and gasp for a breath. I bury my face in my hands to hide the way my expression twists with horrible realization.
I’m never going to see Josh’s ridiculous tattoo again.
Not that I saw it a lot. Only when my brother felt extra goofy and wore a Speedo swimming rather than a full set of trunks. In the tiny getup, his pale ass was on full display along with his eighteen-year-old mistake.
But what feels like a butter knife straight to the sternum is the realization that Josh’s tattoo doesn’t even exist anymore.
That piece of my brother, along with the rest of him, is ashes.
Dom’s jelly is all on its own.
“Maddie?”
I don’t remove my hands from my face. A massive pressure behind my eyes demands I cry under the devastating weight of this moment. But instead of leaking tears onto my face, I only feel the start of a sharp pain in my temple. My grief is a drill, digging into my sensitive brain matter.
Then a firm pair of arms enfolds me, pulling me against a hard chest wearing soft cotton.
“I’m sorry,” Dom mutters, his breath warm against my hair, seeping through my skull and soothing the ache. “I thought it would make you laugh.”
My next inhale shudders with unshed tears, but I manage to peel my hands away from my face. Then, because the fight has temporarily left me, I let my forehead drop and rest against Dom’s shoulder.
We stand like that—him holding me up, me leaning on him—for an indeterminate amount of time, and my traitorous mind points out this hug isn’t so meaningless. This doesn’t feel like an act.
This feels like relief.
Which means I must break the moment before it starts to mean too much.
“It’s very embarrassing,” I mutter into his cedar-scented shirt.
He huffs a short laugh but doesn’t say anything.
“Do you regret it?”
After a pause, where Dom’s fingers spread wide as if attempting to cover more of my back, he gives me an answer. “I used to. But not anymore. Now I think it might be the best part of me.”
My heart squeezes tight, and I suck in a deep inhale at the new rush of emotion.
Determination presses away the painful confusion from a moment ago, and I realize how vulnerable I allowed myself to be in this bathroom with Dom.
Why do I keep letting my walls fall when he’s around?
Knowing this path will only lead to more pain, I step out of his embrace and avert my eyes. Putting as much distance between us as I can.
“Pull your pants up.” My voice is steady now. “It’s time to do something we won’t regret.”
I don’t wait for him, striding out of the bathroom and back to the front of the shop, passing Carmen as she sketches orange flames into her customer’s skin. Dom doesn’t waste any time appearing at my side, and we resume our spots at the counter. Time to make a decision.
My eyes move to the binders but immediately slide away. There’s nothing in those pages for me. Unbidden, my attention finds its way to Dom’s ass, but not because I want a jar of jelly. A flap of paper sticks out of his back pocket, and I realize it’s Josh’s letter.
I reach out, slip it free, and unfold the sheet. Dom watches me, face unreadable.
With the tips of my fingers, I trace the message written in my brother’s hand, and when I reach the last two words, I know without a doubt what I want immortalized on my body. What I want to dig deep into my skin with ink.
“Can you tattoo this on me? Exactly as he wrote it?” I hold the precious letter out to Reggie and point to the signature.
Love,