Page 3 of Breaking Through the Doubt (Espen Jetties #4)

3

LESLIE

“Any idea what design you might want or where you might want it?”

I really should have thought this through. I saw the sign as I was walking down the street, trying to avoid the bars while keeping my mind busy. There was something about the sign that drew me in. Next thing I knew, I was in the tattoo shop, staring at one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. That said a lot, given the company I kept. Not that I was fucking guys on the team.

Black hair that was longer on the top with the sides cut short, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the way his hair complemented his high cheekbones. His skin was tanned, and his eyes were nearly as dark as his hair. Then there were his tattoos. They covered his forearms, drawing my eyes to intricate designs. I guessed that was what you did when you loved something so much. You put it on your skin.

Making my decision, I said, “I’d like to pay tribute to my family.”

He nodded. “Any specific idea in mind?”

“It might sound old-fashioned, but a tree. There’s this tall tree in my parents’ backyard. It’s higher than the house and provides so much shade in the summer. They built a patio around it. We sit under it and sip the homemade lemonade my mom makes while my dad grills. My younger sisters usually fight while I watch, waiting for someone to intervene, which ends up being my mom.” I pressed my lips together as I realized I said more than I intended to.

“A tree will work great. Do you want to put their names on the branches or somewhere else?”

“Could you do them in a circle around the tree? My mom’s, dad’s, and sisters’ names?”

“Yeah, whatever you want. Why don’t you find a picture on your phone of the kind of tree you want then I can get to work? I’m going to get my station set up and we can get started.”

I took a seat on the couch near the front window. I didn’t miss the way some of the eyes in the shop kept drifting my way. I was used to it. Sometimes though, I wanted to blend in and not be the Jetties’ goalie. I just wanted to be Leslie, everyday man, like everyone else. That wasn’t a possibility, I knew, but damn did I want it now and then.

Corey came to the front of the shop and stopped a couple of feet away. My face grew hot when I realized I didn’t look up the tree at all. I was lost in my thoughts and scrolling through a text chat with my family.

I pulled up a picture from the summer when I was at the house, with my sisters beside me. The tree was in the photo but only the bottom part. “Those are my sisters, Kara and Tenley. Smart as hell and driven.”

“Like you.”

“Smart? No, I block a net for a living. Driven, yes. I thrive on action. Anyway, that’s the tree. Let me see if I can find a better picture.” I had to have one. We had so many family gatherings out there. Eventually, I found one from a few years ago and handed the phone to Corey.

“Do you mind if I send this to myself? I won’t do anything with it outside of use it for your tattoo. I take privacy seriously in here.”

“That’s fine.”

He opened the text messages and quickly sent it to himself. “Give me a bit and I’ll be back. Oh, and text me the names so I can add them to the design.”

Did he not realize he just gave me his number? Did he do this with everyone, or was I special? He probably didn’t think me, of all people, would be up late texting him. I valued privacy as well. Still… I had his number.

I quickly typed his first name in the contact information and sent him the text with my parents’ and sisters’ names. My dad’s name was easy—Leslie. Same as my grandfather. We were all Leslie. The difference came in our middle names, so we weren’t senior, junior, the third, or whatever. I was grateful for that. I didn’t want to be Leslie Knoxton the third. It sounded way too pretentious for me. Instead, I was Leslie Seth Knoxton. Seth was my mom’s dad’s name. I got a bit of both sides.

While he was getting the design ready, I started flipping through the books on the side table. There were so many designs in them. Some were on skin as completed art. Others were drawings on paper. The more I flipped through, the more I thought about where I wanted the tattoo.

They were my family and I loved them, but I didn’t want them on my chest. Then there was the fleeting idea of getting the name of someone I loved on my chest. I quickly shook it away. I wasn’t dating anyone, not even close to inking my skin with a boyfriend’s name.

The tree was too big for my arm, and my thigh didn’t seem right. If I had to lift my shorts high to show people my tattoo at family gatherings, it was a definite no. The calf didn’t appeal to me.

I decided to go with my back. No matter how much my sisters got on my nerves, I knew they’d always have my back. The same with my parents. The number of fights I got in, the trouble I caused the team, my parents and sisters were there for me with phone calls, ready to fly out here, and waiting for me when I traveled to Pittsburgh over the summer for training.

My parents lived roughly forty-five minutes away from the city. It was close enough where I could see them when I wanted to, but far enough away where we weren’t in each other’s faces all the time. Plus, training was much easier in the city than farther out. I stayed at my condo, busted my ass, and saw my family when I wanted to.

Corey returned and, this time, I looked at his legs encased in denim. My eyes rose from the floor. God, he was beautiful in a way I didn’t usually go for. So many times, I was attracted to cleaner-cut men, even the kind wearing suits. Corey wasn’t that, and I found myself sucked into his orbit.

“Leslie? I’m ready for you. Do you still want to do this?” I just realized I hadn’t given him my name. Of course, he knew it. It would have been polite to introduce myself. Too late for that now.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I stood and shook out my arms then pocketed my phone.

“Come on back.”

I followed him to his station where there was a table, designs on the walls, and the tattooing equipment. I didn’t know what any of it was called outside of the tattoo gun where my eyes settled.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been through a lot with my job, but this is a different kind of pain.”

“Not the same as taking a hit on the ice, huh?”

“I’m going to go with no. I can let you know for sure once you’re done.”

He motioned to where he had the design laid out. “What do you think? It’s a white oak, or at least that was what I could decipher from the photo.”

“It’s perfect.” Not only did he do the names in a circle around the tree, but he also used a thin script that stretched them without looking too long. The detail on the tree was insane. I could see the outline of leaves and the etching of bark in the trunk.

“It will be more intricate once I get it on your skin. This is just a guideline so I have something to start with. Depending on where you want it will determine if I have to shrink it or make it bigger. It’s your call. I should have asked you that before.”

My eyes met his as a slow blush bloomed on his cheeks. Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit of attraction. It was either that or he loved hockey and was a fan. I didn’t get that impression though. He didn’t get tongue-tied or ask me about the last game, like other fans usually did.

“The center of my back but between my shoulders instead of lower. I wouldn’t mind if it was a little bigger but it’s your call. I don’t want to do anything to change the design.”

“We can go bigger. It will only take a second to enlarge it. I’ll be right back.”

When he stepped away, I took time to look over the walls of his station. There was everything from quick sketches in pencil to fully colored art that could have gone in a gallery, to photos of tattoos he must have done.

I really lucked out, coming in here and getting him to do my tattoo. The skill he had was amazing. It made what I did for a living seem insignificant. It wasn’t, but it was nothing like this. He literally created beautiful pictures with needles and ink, permanently putting them on skin. People walked around with his art on their bodies. This was more than getting a tattoo. It was a personal experience. At least, it was going to be for me.

He returned with the design bigger and asked me to remove my shirt so he could look at my skin. I wasn’t an overly hairy guy but he still had to take a razor to my back, so he had a smooth canvas to work with. That was new for me. Hell, this whole experience was.

Once he had the design transferred to my skin, he gave me a mirror so I could make sure it was where I wanted it. I nodded and swallowed. It wasn’t the pain that worried me. It was Corey putting his hands on me and me not reacting. Just the transfer paper had me breaking out in chills, and he hadn’t even touched me with his bare skin.

He had me get into position on a chair that kept me upright with my head cushioned, so I could still see and easily breathe. It felt like I was about to get a massage. Instead, I got him putting his gloved hands on me and the first prick of a needle into my skin.

“Okay?”

“It’s not so bad,” I told him.

“You say that now.” He chuckled. “I’ll do the outline first.”

Corey went to work on my back. Certain areas were more sensitive than others. I thought it would have felt like getting a shot, since that was my experience with needles, but this was nothing like that. This was more like scraping my knee when I was younger when falling on pavement or a sidewalk. It was small needles raking over my flesh repeatedly. Not awful pain but it was getting sore.

The tattoo wasn’t so big he couldn’t complete it in one sitting, though he said he would give me a break halfway through or sooner, if I wanted it. I was lucky he didn’t have anyone else scheduled for today or I would have had to come back. Having another artist wasn’t an option. Once I saw Corey, I had to have him. Ink me, that was. Or more if he wanted it.

How was I even thinking about this while he was putting ink permanently into my flesh? It was insane, yet I couldn’t stop wondering what his hands would feel like without the gloves on. Without him running needles along my skin.

We started talking about anything and everything. It made me feel like I was sitting in the chair at a hairdresser, where they spoke to you the whole time. Only with Corey, I didn’t want it to end. Talking to him was relaxing. I could do it all night.