Page 31

He slipped the top button from its hold, then the next two, pushing the crisp blue fabric aside so she could see more. Distracted by the expanse of muscles, she wondered how long it would be before she saw him without a shirt.

“You wanted to see the tattoo?” he teased. “Hello?”

She sighed and returned her gaze to his tattoo, realizing she’d laid her hands over his and was helping with the buttons.

Tree roots started above his heart, forming a subtle heart shape. The trunk separated into four main branches, stretched from his left shoulder to the midline of his chest. The tattoo was simple, allowing plenty of flesh to show between the fine black lines.

“Your dad…” she said, following one branch to his shoulder. “Your mom…” She traced another with a light finger, causing him to draw a quick breath. Her finger stopped on the highest one which stretched toward the heavens and had the angel-bird lifting off it. “Sister?”

He gave a nod.

The next branch stretched across his chest, was less leafy and appeared unfinished with spots for family to be added close to his heart.

“How many branches do you plan to add over here? Exactly?” she asked playfully, walking her fingers up what must be his own branch.

He chuckled and snagged her hand away. “Depends on my partner and what she wants.” His expression was solemn, his gaze locked steadily on hers.

There was none of that flirtatiousness she’d come to expect whenever they ventured near anything deep or personal.

No deflection. “But as I said earlier. Lots. All the chaos.”

Having his attention so solidly on her made Athena want to squirm out from under it, make a joke or lighten the mood. Her question about future branches on his tattoo was heavy with possibility, and his answer was like he was opening a door to the unknown, extending his hand to take hers.

Moments ago everything between them had still felt similar to a dream, fuzzy and uncertain, the edges not yet roughed in.

Forgiveness? Love and a relationship?

She hadn’t been 100 percent sure.

But now, seeing his dreams inked on his chest, hearing the question on his lips and the invitation…. Witnessing the opening up, and having those beautiful eyes waiting for her answer….

She cleared her throat. “I want two or three kids. But if I ended up with five, I’d be okay with that.”

“Five?” He squinted at her. “How old are you? Is there time?”

She laughed, giving him a light push. He pulled her close, refusing to let her go.

“Seeing the way you’re such a sucker for Stitches,” she said, “as well as the rumor of how great you were at the Dragons charity’s hospital visits, I have a feeling if two people like us got together we could end up with a whole herd of kids. Even more than five.”

He smiled softly, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as though he could envision a home and family with her. It would be filled with all the things they’d mentioned, from children and chaos to pets and, above all else, love.

“Yeah,” he said, “I could get on board with that.”

He pulled at the opening in his shirt, looking down at his chest. “Good thing there’s lots of room for additions.”

She placed a finger over a spot perfect for a smaller branch. “Maybe one day I’ll be on here.” Her breath hitched when she realized what she’d said.

But Chad reached over, scooping a pen off her desk. He handed it to her. “Why wait?”

She laughed. “You want me to draw myself onto your family tree?”

Her heart and breath hiccupped like a truck misfiring as she caught the love in his eyes.

“You know, we haven’t really known each other that long…” she said hesitantly, lowering the pen. She didn’t want to rocket her way up infatuation mountain just to discover she’d completely miscalculated and hit the entirely wrong range.

“I’ve known you since the day we met.” He guided her hand and pen toward his skin. He was watching her, not daring, not pushing, but letting her know it was real for him, and always had been, despite their horrible start.

She licked her lips, wondering if she knew Chad in the way he was suggesting—like an instinct.

“And you know me,” he said. “The real me.”

“Do I, though?”

“Ask me anything.”

“Why were you drinking whiskey at the gala?” A flush heated her face, and she wasn’t sure if it was residual anger, frustration over the lack of respect for her rules, or embarrassment for how much his pretend rule-breaking still bothered her.

“Whiskey?” he asked.

“Apple-spiced?”

“Apple, yes. Whiskey, no.” His smile slowly warmed. “Juice? Yes.”

“No. No, it wasn’t.” She tossed the pen on her desk and shook her head. Anger rose like bubbles from an underwater air pocket. “I tasted it. And it was…”

Wait. There hadn’t been any bite to the droplets she’d tasted. True whiskey surely would have been less sticky and less apple-flavored in such a small amount.

Chad watched her as comprehension dawned.

Her shoulders dropped. “Are you kidding me?” She was just as bad as everyone else—seeing what he put out into the world instead of looking for clues that it was just an illusion.

And he’d been serious outside the rink a few weeks back when he’d vowed he hadn’t drunk alcohol since the past summer. She knew he wasn’t a liar and yet she hadn’t believed him. She hadn’t wanted to because it was easier to be scared.

He gave an apologetic shrug.

“Were the other guys drinking whiskey?”

“Not sure.”

She sighed. “You’re a bad role model.”

“I’m trying to do better.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, Athena.”

“I know.” She wrapped her arms around him again and kissed him slowly, showing him that he was forgiven.

She broke off the kiss. “Give me that pen.”