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So I was getting under his skin, was I?
“The whole time. I tried to keep track of your movements, but it was hard. There was a period when even your dad didn’t know where you were.”
His eyes narrowed. “My dad?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re not online anywhere, so it was the only way.”
“You talked to my dad? While I was gone?”
He seemed surprised by that. “I did. Many times.”
Still incredulous, it took him a few moments to apparently get over that fact. “Surprised you made your way to that side of town.”
I refused to let him get a rise out of me. “It’s not gonna work,” I informed him.
“No?”
“No. You can’t goad me, Lucas. I’m here to make amends, not fight you.”
He didn’t flinch. “I don’t fight.”
What the hell did that mean?
“I’ve tangled with some of the sorriest motherfuckers on the planet. A fight worth having. But with you? Nah.”
“What does that even mean? I don’t know anything about what you did while you were gone. Ten years, Lucas. Ten years and not a word from you. And now you’re back, opening up this? When did you even take an interest in tattooing? Where were you the whole time? Did you ever think of me?” I just couldn’t stop now. “Did you even consider looking me up on those rare occasions you did come home?”
He waited.
I chose not to continue.
“You done?”
I wasn’t sure I liked this version of Lucas. Raising my chin stubbornly, I refused to answer.
“It means I’ve been deployed twice, once to Iraq and once to Africa. Those were fights. Got my first tattoo while stationed at Camp Ederle in Italy and, as you can see, took a liking to it. Started sketching and found I had a knack for it. As to where I was the whole time? Tennessee, Georgia, Europe, Africa. . . take your pick.”
He said this all with the emotion of a fly, like he was reciting the phone book rather than reliving what must have been some very difficult days.
“Did I think of you? Did I consider looking you up? Those are questions best left unanswered.”
“You’re like a robot, Lucas. This isn’t you.”
“I can assure you,” he countered, “this is very much me.”
Something inside me just snapped. Simply. Snapped. I didn’t care for this Lucas.
“Fine, this is you,” I said, my voice rising. “Great talk. So glad to clear everything up. Have a good one.” Heart pounding, I stood up, intending to leave. But just as I passed him, Lucas’s arm shot out before I even saw him move, and he grabbed me by the wrist.
His grip was firm. Borderline too firm. My core clenched at the sheer strength of him.
“I don’t remember so much sass, Charlee.”
He still held my wrist. “No? It seems maybe we’ve both changed a bit.”
He made a sound deep in his throat. An annoyed, guttural, downright sexy-as-all-hell sound. What would it be like to kiss this Lucas? The other one was the best kisser of my life. This one?
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
