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Chapter thirty-four

Daxton

T oday is the day I finally finish Trayton’s tattoo. Everything in the past few weeks—the shock about Ashton, the chaos at the hotel, the library, that interview—piled up until it was too much. Trayton was like a storm: one minute he pushed me away, the next he warmed me with his touches. My heart couldn’t take the endless highs and lows. I needed space, a moment to step back from him.

Maybe he needed that space, too, because not once did he reach out. Even though I told myself I needed time apart, my twisted thoughts burned, angry that he wouldn’t even try.

I know my time with him is running out. We could never be more than the confusing, bittersweet mess we are now. He will break my heart—it isn’t a question of if, but when. I keep thinking, maybe I’ll learn to live with the pain of him breaking me over and over again, maybe I can grow to accept it because the pain of never feeling Trayton King’s kiss again might be even worse.

But soon enough, he’ll find someone else, and that thought cuts deeper than anything else.

Hawksview was supposed to be my fresh start—until Trayton King waltzed in and turned everything upside down in both amazing and awful ways.

I’ll never truly forgive him for coming back into my life and tearing me apart.

So here I stand, at the end of our last tattoo session together, swallowing my pain and forcing a smile as if the silent words begged him to be with me, to kiss me. For two long hours, he has sat quietly while Max dropped by and chatted, and I remained mute, eyes fixed where his gaze burned a hole through my mind. I can’t trust myself to speak or even look at him—it hurts too much.

“Finished,” I croak out, pulling the machine away from his arm. I push my feelings aside for a moment because, damn, I have just completed my first tattoo. I grin at the sight of his arm; it looks so damn good.

Trayton lights up with excitement, buzzing in his chair. Max even hovers around, eager to catch a glimpse. I stand up as Trayton moves over to the long mirror.

“I can’t believe how good it looks.” Trayton’s eyes light up as he gazes at the mirror, while I position another one to give him a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the intricate designs wrapped around his arm. My smile stretches wider, filled with pride as I admire the swirling patterns and bold lines of my first tattoo creation. The whole shop buzzes with excitement, everyone gathering around to catch a glimpse of the masterpiece. Some eagerly clutch their phones, asking Trayton if they can snap a picture. He nods enthusiastically, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

“You did good, boy,” Max says, giving my shoulder a hearty slap. A surge of pride and excitement courses through me.

Trayton’s eyes lock onto mine in the mirror, filled with intense appreciation. “You’ve outdone yourself, Dax. This is beyond anything I could have imagined.” His words send warmth spreading through my chest, and I have to look away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

“Thanks. I’m just glad you like it.”

Max clears his throat, cutting through the moment. “All right, get him wrapped up.”

As I gently apply the protective wrap over Trayton’s freshly inked skin, my fingers linger a moment too long, feeling the electric charge between us. His muscles twitch slightly under my touch, and I wonder if he feels it too.

“So, big game coming up in a couple of weeks, right?” I ask, trying to focus on anything but the closeness between us.

“Kinda, just a friendly,” he replies, low and distant, as if the game is the last thing on his mind, or maybe it’s me he doesn’t want to talk to.

“That’s done, then,” I say, sighing as I stand and begin tidying up my equipment. “I’ll see you around.” I toss the comment over my shoulder, my hands busy, but my mind is restless. A sick feeling churns inside me, an ache that pulls me toward him, craving him. It’s like my heart is tied to him, begging me to be near, to touch him, and I’m struggling to deny it.

“Dax.” Tray’s voice hits me like a jolt, and because I’m busy shifting things on the table, I don’t turn around. “Dax, look at me.” His tone is sharp now, slicing through my focus. I hesitate, unable to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Just go, Tray,” I murmur weakly.

“It’s crazy that you think I was asking. Look. At. Me.” His insistence forces me to spin around, frowning at him. But his smile lights up his face, playful and knowing. “It’s so easy to rile you up.”

I shake my head, trying to hide the smirk tugging at my lips as I study his maddening expression. He steps closer, each measured stride tightening the distance between us, and I draw in a sharp breath. I lower my head to hold back the swirling emotions. Then his hand finds my face, tenderly lifting it until our gaze connects, and his eyes always feel like a punch to my gut—eyes that have always captivated me. At his touch, my heart jolts with a soft, overwhelming cry of happiness.

“It’s been weird not seeing you lately,” he whispers, his eyes flickering between mine.

I nod. “Yeah, I’ve had a lot going on,” I lie, even though the truth is that I’ve been avoiding him.

“Liar.” He grins; it’s a playful accusation. “You’ve just been avoiding me.” I stay silent, locked in his gaze. With a gentle lift of his lip, he continues, “It’s okay. I have too.” His voice softens as his shoulders sag with vulnerability.

I nod again, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. “Well, tattooing is done. I’ll probably only be at training a few times a week, so I shouldn’t be around too much.” I force a smile before stepping back. Trayton frowns, and his hand meets mine, our fingers intertwining. I close my eyes, drawing a deep, reluctant breath, all the while hating how perfect it feels to be held by him.

“Because I don’t know how to handle what I feel for you, Dax. Not because I don’t want to be with you. The last few weeks have been pure hell. My…” He pauses, jaw clenching before he continues, “I have physically ached.”

My heart skips a beat at his confession, and suddenly, I’m lost in the depth of his gaze. “I’ve never dealt with feelings before, Dax. I’ve only ever known hate. I always hated you—and now I don’t. This new feeling overwhelms me. Just be patient with me,” he pleads, his brows furrowing as he waits for my reply.

“Okay,” I reply softly. I could never refuse him. His smile returns, gentle yet daring. He steps forward to press a soft, lingering kiss against my lips before pulling away.

“What are you doing to me, Dax?” he murmurs so quietly I only just about hear him as he releases my hand, moving toward the door. When he reaches it, he turns back, and I stand there, heart pounding so fiercely I fear it might burst out of my chest and run after him. “I will never be able to thank you enough for this.” He raises his arm with a playful spark in his eye. “But this isn’t over.” His smirk deepens. “I just emailed you what I want for the other half of the sleeve. I can’t wait to see your design.” With that, his dazzling smile flashes one last time before he’s gone. I exhale deeply, sinking into the chair behind me as my trembling legs give way.

“More like, what are you doing to me, Trayton King?” I sigh into the quiet space. My phone pings, and I fumble to grab it, anxious to see his notes. When I open the email, the world around me seems to freeze.

I read his notes, and as each word lands, unshed tears burn in my eyes.

All this time, I believed it meant nothing to him.

But it did.