Prologue
Tim
Sixteen Years Earlier…
“Nervous?”
“Nope.”
I dropped my eyes to her knee that was bouncing so fast it reminded me of Thumper from Bambi. The tips of her fingers were planted deep above it. I was positive they’d leave an indention in her sun-kissed skin.
“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt,” I reciprocated her lie, lifting my gaze to look straight ahead again as we continued to wait on the hard, wooden bench. Allowing them to linger on her for too long or travel up her bare legs the way they wanted to would be a mistake.
“I’m not scared.”
I twisted my head to peer at her profile this time. Anxious tension was written all over her face. It made me want to slip my arm around her, pull her against me, and press a firm kiss on top of her head in hopes to lessen her nerves. But I wouldn’t. That wasn’t Conley’s and my relationship.
The lying to hide our true feelings and thoughts, that was us. It’s the way we’d always been and always would be. Ever since that scorching summer day she walked into my garage during one of my band’s practices. It’d been three years. I could still remember it like it was yesterday, the vision of her as strong and vivid as the regret I still felt.
She’d been wearing a too-big-for-her vintage Led Zeppelin T-shirt tied in a knot at her waist and cut-off jean shorts that showed off her long, lean legs. Her curly, raven-colored hair had been piled high on her head with strands falling around her heart-shaped face, the same way it was today.
“He should be here,” she said under her breath, glancing at the cell phone clutched in her other hand. I’d barely heard her over the loud music and the constant buzzing sound filling any potential silence.
“He will be.” I had no idea if he would. If he didn’t make it here soon, I’d kick his ass myself. Not that I minded being the fill-in. I’d do almost anything for Conley Logan. “Show me your sketch again,” I added when my assurance hadn’t seemed to soothe her.
For the first time since we arrived, a slight smile crept onto her lips. The tension eased from her small frame as she slipped her hand into the rear pocket of her jean shorts, pulling out a folded piece of paper with the sketch she’d drawn. She handed it to me. I unfolded the letter-sized sheet to stare at the linework that filled the page. It was a collage of four delicate flowers, interweaved with small vines of leaves. Each one represented something significant to her, and they were woven together into a beautiful design.
“It’s gonna make an awesome tattoo, Con.”
She leaned into my side to look at it with me. The action was innocent, but still set off a heated, tingling sensation across my skin. “My parents are gonna flip when they see it. They’ll probably kick me out of the house.” She sat back with a huff, crossing her arms.
The immediate emptiness I felt at the loss of her touch mocked me. “If they do, you can always sleep in our basement.”
“Jeez. Thanks. A cold, damp room with a couch that reeks of cat urine.” She shoved at my shoulder lightly, another smile escaping. “I wouldn’t want to put you out or anything.”
I grinned at her, glad to see her nerves were momentarily forgotten. “Hey,” I said with mock outrage, “Mr. Pickles is old. He can’t help it if he has bladder-control issues.”
“It’s probably from all the pickle juice you guys give him. That can’t be good for cats,” she said through a chuckle.
“He likes it,” I said with a shrug. It’s how he got his name.
“Conley?” a deep voice interrupted her laughter. We both glanced up at a sizeable man covered in tattoos and piercings. A red, overgrown beard outlined his jaw, revealing only his eyes that were locked on Conley. “You ready?”
She turned her gaze back to me and then to the entrance, the light-hearted fun in her eyes gone again. “He’s not here.”
I hated the disappointment on her face, hated knowing that I wasn’t the one she wanted. I held back the rage at Bobby rushing through me, fighting to lash out. It was bad enough he’d been the one she chose. It only made it worse that he was never here when she needed him.
She’d been talking about her plan to get this tattoo on her eighteenth birthday for months now. He’d forgotten not only her birthday, but also that she wanted him by her side for this moment. Not that I needed the evidence, but it proved he was a self-centered moron.
“You’ll be fine,” I tried to assure her for the hundredth time. “It’ll be over before you know it. The first one is always the scariest. After that, you’ll be itching for another one.”
Biting down lightly on her bottom lip, she nodded and stood as she ran her palms down her legs.
I stood with her, handing her the paper. “Don’t forget this.”
“Thanks.” Our fingers brushed as she reached for it.
I drew back my hand before the instinct to hold hers took over. She turned, following slowly behind the man who’d be inking her skin. Watching her walk away, I took a step backward, lowering onto the bench again, when she spun to face me.
“I want you,” she blurted, her eyes slamming shut as her cheeks changed to a light shade of pink.
I halted mid-sit and rose upright. The rapid thumping in my chest nearly drowned out her next words. “I mean, I need someone with me.” She opened her eyes, meeting mine. “To distract me… Would you mind keeping me company?”
Before I could form any response, the door to the tattoo shop flew open, drawing both of our attention.
“You made it,” she breathed, her words no longer directed at me, but at the guy walking through the door. The relief in her voice was another sharp stab to my chest.
“Hey, babe,” Bobby greeted her, giving me a pat on the shoulder as he brushed by me headed for Conley. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?”
I bit down the sarcastic laugh wanting to burst from my mouth. We both knew this wasn’t his priority or he wouldn’t have texted me earlier today, asking me to bring her here. He’d completely forgotten until she messaged him to find out what time he was picking her up.
He’d bailed on her to go with one of our bandmates to check out a new guitar on sale in the next town over. He hadn’t even told her I would be the one to pick her up. Her surprised expression when I showed up at her house told me that much. Doing what I did best, I lied to her, telling her he’d be meeting us. Then I fired off a text to him, demanding he get his ass here.
She drew back slightly, rising up on the balls of her feet to kiss him. His hands dropped to her ass and squeezed. Having already hit my limit of watching them together, I cleared my throat. “I’m just gonna…” I jabbed a thumb at the exit behind me. Neither one of them seemed to hear me nor remembered I was a few feet away. With a shake of my head, I turned on my heels and walked toward the door, shoving it open.
“Tim! Wait!” Conley hollered. Before I realized what was happening, her arms were wrapped around my waist and every inch of her body molded to mine with her cheek pressed to my chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
My heart stampeded in my rib cage once again as I willed my dick to behave and not react to her being flush against me. “No problem.” The strangled words came out more as a deep croak.
She pulled from our embrace, lifting to her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek before she scurried off and back to her boyfriend’s side.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Bobby said, his eyes locked on me as he lifted his chin and intertwined his fingers with hers. His appreciation was laced with a warning I didn’t need.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, grinding my back molars, and shoved through the door again before the tension between Bobby and me turned into something more. It was the last thing our band needed—a fight over a girl who had never been mine.
I had nobody to blame but myself. He’d made a move when I hadn’t. If I could go back to that day, three years ago in my garage, I would’ve grown a pair and staked my claim. She’d been there to see me, but somehow, she’d ended up with him. And now, there would never be an us.
