Page 62 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

Public service announcement.

If you ever feel trusting enough to let somebody close to you choose a mystery tattoo that you’re not allowed to see until finished…

trust yourself more. My anxiety is through the roof, my hip is on fire, my artist won’t stop giggling under his breath, and the position of my neck, I fear, is as permanent as whatever this idiot just branded on me.

He’s in the chair down the hall and I’ve heard him exhibiting very pussy-bitch sounds for the past two hours.

I shot off my latest snark, smiling when I heard his phone ding a short distance away.

Me: Is this what I have to look forward to when you get your first man cold?

Apparently, that’s an incurable thing that starts when you’re in an actual relationship. Hasn’t happened yet, but I’m likely gonna hurt his tender feelings when it does.

Ping.

Asshat: Is your brave silence what I have to look forward to when we get old and you decide me cock isn’t that up to snuff? ;)

I rolled my eyes.

Me: If you still have one after I find out what Tim over here keeps smiling about.

“Is she peeking?!” Malek yelled down the hall. Tim grinned, smacking his gum and digging into my skin with the shading needle.

“Nope. She’s a good girl.” Those dots never moved so fast. I’m trying my hardest not to laugh.

Asshat: You might wanna spill the secret of who I was a few months ago before I nail him to the wall…

My lips rolled in, and I tightened my mouth, fighting back this obnoxious burst with everything I had.

Me: Now, now…be a good boy and I’ll let you nail ME…AGAINST a wall.

A minute later, I got a five-second video of Malek flicking that tongue between two of his tattooed fingers. Well played, prick .

This is our ‘we made it a full month in the same apartment without killing each other’ celebratory gift.

Don’t ask me how he was able to talk me into it.

I blame the stupid dimple. It’s actually been perfect these last few weeks.

We stay for dinner a lot at Mom and Dad’s.

Emmy has decided that she’s marrying Malek, and I’m just the fucking buffer until she actually does get boobs.

Bridget and Declan visit more often than Malek likes, but it’s my only time to embrace girlhood, and honestly…

I didn’t realize I needed it this much. The three words that used to be so hard for me to say, are as easy as breathing now.

Because I fucking mean it. As grotesque as the idea is.

We tainted every inch of that dark little apartment.

We still disagree on the lyrics to our favorite song.

He still gets a damn milkshake every other day.

Still pulls my chair out at every meal—including the date I finally let him take me on.

He paid. Last week, Mom actually changed the menu, just so I had a chance to see my Irishman in her frilly pink apron, teaching her to cook authentic ‘across the pond’ food.

I didn’t know life could be this full. I didn’t notice that I let every word anybody ever said to me steal the joy that I thought I was embracing.

I’ve been wrong. And I’ll never be sorry for taking a shady side gig on the Dark Web.

“Alright. We’re done. Hold still, I want a picture of this one.” Tim took it, covering it with a paper towel and walking me to Malek’s chair where Leanne was cleaning him up. I bit my lip, grinning at the sight of it down his spine. God, it’s fucking perfect.

“Ready, Viper?” Malek asked, stretching as he stood up.

“I don’t know how to answer that question. You might handle this better than me.”

“Understatement,” Tim smacked, leaning against the doorway. “Bro-code suggests I give the man a five-minute head start for the door.”

“Oh, fuck…” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Malek curled around my back, reaching both arms around me and waddled us over to the full-length mirror, smiling like a demon. “Count of…seven?”

“Turn around, stupid.” He slid over, turning his back to the mirror and Leanne gave him a handheld one to look at it.

“Holy shit…” His eyes boggled. A casino-style ‘7’ with a bloody mop struck through it…and a black snake curled around the handle. “ Seven Grey …this is outstanding .”

“Now you have some lass’s name actually stamped on your spine,” I grinned. “That’s for carving your name into my pricey dildo.” Leanne burst out laughing. Tim just shook his head.

“Baby, you won’t get a single complaint outta this sod.” He grabbed my face and kissed me, and I hiked my bare leg up to his hip.

“Take this off. I can’t do it, I’m scared.”

He smiled against my mouth and nipped my bottom lip. “Who’s the pussy now? Takin’ shit ‘offa you is my favorite activity.” I reached into his hair, jerking his head back. “Yes, ma’am.”

I felt the towel peel off and gulped as he eased my leg down and turned me back towards the mirror. “Oh…my gahh…”

A pink milkshake in a classic glass. Bloody whipped cream that dripped off the sides…

and an equally bloody butcher knife where a straw should be.

At the base of the glass? A bug. Upside-down, legs in the air…

with guts. “That…that’s a squished bug. In case you were wonderin’.

” I thought about how my seat bounced the day he showed up at Desiree’s.

About how this all started. About the dock.

The penny. The life he happily gave up to make a real one with a nobody.

How this fool fills every broken crack in me and makes me into the person I didn’t know I was.

I didn’t realize I had a tear running down my face until he wiped it. “Oh, no…you hate it.”

“No, no…I—I love it.”

Tim looked almost disappointed behind me, and Leanne, well…she gets it. She pursed her lips and shooed my artist out of her space to give us a minute alone.

“Do you really? I did good?”

I sniffled and buried my face in his neck. “For once? Yeah…you did fucking perfect.” I should have never let you leave that coffin. I hope you never do.

Time to tell him what he got wrong. Tonight.

Malek’s eyes look heavy. He’s never watched Titanic all the way through, and I’m dying to hear him over-analyze all the reasons why Jack would have fit on that damn piece of wood…

but I don’t think he’s gonna make it. I pointed the remote at the TV, and he opened his mouth in silent shock at my audacity right before the screen went black. Now I’ve got a very green glare.

“I was watchin’ that. Wretch.”

“No, you were watching the back of your eyelids…and jerking your legs. It’s your tell.” He adjusted himself next to me and nuzzled in, getting comfortable on top of his new favorite spot—my squashed boobs.

“Lies.”

I dragged my fingers through the thick of his hair, wondering how, even now, his insufferable ass can still resemble a newborn when he’s this close to sleep.

It infuriates me. How can an outright rugged man look this peaceful, and we always look like Hagrid’s fucking dog when we’re asleep? Life is utterly unfair.

“We need to talk,” I whispered, making another pass through his hair. Well, that did it. Instantly awake…like I just injected him with espresso. His head raised and he looked like he was about to throw up.

“The last time you told me that…was goodbye.”

“Well, it’s not goodbye, but it might still pierce your fragile ego.” I smirked, and he adjusted himself on an elbow to get a handle on how invested he was about to be in this conversation. Honestly, I could have picked a better spot than the coffin, but…I did it for a reason.

“Intrigued. And terrified.”

I relaxed against the throw pillows. “Our little agreement was about as done a few months ago…as a raw chicken.” His eyebrows lowered, knotting in the middle. I expected it.

“Whadd’ya mean?”

“I mean…I shouldn’t have let you walk outta here, because you were wrong. The deal was a deal, but…we didn’t finish it, Malek. You said seven cleans. Seven jobs. You should have stayed. Because it wasn’t until the night you left that the deal was done.”

“I know I’m thick, lass…but I don’t understand.”

I smirked. “Conor doesn’t count.”

His neck craned back, and I don’t think his eyebrows can go much lower. He’s thoroughly confused. “That’s shite. He absolutely does! I even gave him to you as a gift!”

“Which I didn’t accept. Or clean. Who buried that body?”

His throat ticked, and his mouth hung open, all the wheels turning in that stupid ginger head. “But—right, I…I guess—”

“He was never on the list.”

Malek sighed, dumbfounded. “No, I guess he wasn’t.”

“Right, so we never had a seventh until…until you asked me the last night you were here.” We stared at each other for a few long minutes and Malek swallowed hard.

“You’re the seventh grave. I buried you.

” I palmed my chest. “I told you I’d keep you.

Therefore…you were never supposed to leave. You’re mine .”

Dare I say his eyes are getting glassy? I’m not gonna call him out on it…he’ll try to hide it, and fuck no. “What are you sayin’, lass?”

“That I don’t want there to be any confusion.

Ever. That if we need an official label on this poison…

this is me putting it on. If you drink it…

so do I, Malek Byrne.” I leaned in and kissed him, hanging on his lower lip and pressing my head against his.

“You’re my seventh grave. And my coffin is big enough for two. ”

“Marry me, then.”

My open mouth paused in front of his. My turn to look dumbfounded and stupid. “What?”

“ Marry. Me . And don’t throw sass. It was perfect fucking English.”

I scoffed, laughing because…well…I really don’t know what else to do.

We haven’t even known each other six whole months.

Never spent a holiday together. Barely started showing our colors, even though they lack pigment to begin with.

But…we’ve also been through hell already.

Tried time apart that nearly broke us both, and…

as insane as it is…it also makes perfect sense.

This is my person. The other half of my black soul.

The missing thing that makes all those flawed, invisible parts of me…

fit. I’ve always known who I was, and I’ve learned how to love myself.

But, I’ve grown to love the version of me a lot more, now that I’ve found out who I am when I’m next to him . That’s the best me.

“Ask me nicely, Dexter.”

His eyes widened and the pad of his thumb traced my mouth. “You serious?”

I flopped back onto the pillows, crossing my arms. “Are you?! ”

Malek’s crooked smirk curled up one side of his mouth, and the ointment on his tattoo shined in the dim light as he slipped out of the coffin and walked into the bedroom.

What the hell? Now, I’m pissed. That did not go how I thought it would go.

Here I was trying to embrace the soft side that I’m still trying to figure out, and he fucking goes and—

“Remember the first job you ever let me go on with you?” My head snapped around, finding him standing next to the coffin…that defined vee of muscle disappearing under the waistline of his black sweats. What was the question?

“Simon’s. Yeah.”

“You remember how we got paid?” Stop looking at his crotch…stop it . I bit down on my lip.

“Yeah. Dia—” I choked on my air, and suddenly…I think the bus with my realization just plowed me in the face. “…Diamonds…”

“I took mine the night I left. With every intention of givin’ it back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny black velvet box. I think I’m gonna pass out. I sat up and faced him, breaking into a sweat when he lowered his knee to the floor.

“Oh, my God…oh, fuck.”

That box clicked open, and there it sat. Sparkling in what little light was in the living room. A coffin-shaped diamond, flanked with two small stones on a simple white gold band. One green…one orange. It’s a fucking Irish flag.

Don’t weep, don’t weep, don’t weep…

“I’ll never credit me luck on this flag again, love. Not with you. You are my luck, Seven Grey. And me never got so lucky, as the day I called ‘ye mine. ” He blew a harsh breath and flicked his hair over his brow, and I think I’m gonna lose it…any second. “Geez, my knee hurts…”

“Malek!”

He snorted a laugh and scooted closer, grabbing my hand. “Will ‘ye marry me, Viper?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer before slipping the ring on my finger.

“That’s nice enough. For you .”

“That a yes, then?”

“Absolutely.”

I braced my hands on his shoulders, leaning forward until I toppled out of the coffin and we hit the floor, my body landing better than I thought it would on top of him. He broke into giggles, and I planted a hard kiss to that mouth.

What is this life?

And to think it all started with a funeral home, a family business, a weird little girl on a kindergarten mat, a misunderstood Irish-American murderer…and a few bodies.

…My name is Seven Grey…

…and I’m so fucking glad I hang out with dead people.