Erin McCarthy - Believe

“Is it a he?” Phoenix asked in amusement as he sprayed my wrist, then sat back and peeled off his gloves.

“Of course.” I held my wrist up and turned it around and around to admire it. “It’s supposed to have your energy and you are very masculine, in case you haven’t noticed. So weird that this wasn’t here ten minutes ago and now it will be forever. Sort of like how a month ago we didn’t know the other existed and now I can’t imagine life without you.”

Phoenix stood up and moved between my legs to kiss me. “There is no life without you,” he said.

Ten o’clock and nothing. No phone call, no text, nothing.

It was stupid, I knew that, to think that my mother would remember it was my birthday, let alone an important one like my twenty-first. Hell, she probably didn’t even know what day of the week it was. She probably didn’t even remember the exact date of my birthday.

Not hearing from her was no shocker.

Yet it still hurt.

Frustrated, I finished sweeping up the shop and waved to the guys, two still doing tattoos. Bob was letting me leave early since it was my birthday and I had Robin waiting at her place for me. It was only a fifteen-minute walk and I’d be with someone who did love me.

So why did I give a shit about the woman who didn’t love me?

Because I was a pussy, apparently.

Feeling my mood darkening, I tried to shake it off, touching my side where my new tattoo stung. I decided to take the bandage off before I left and I peeled my shirt off and removed it, yanking hard on the edges, enjoying the sting as the tape tore at my skin. Not many people understood that I didn’t mind the pain from the needle during a tattoo. I kind of liked it. It made me feel sharp, alive.

Tossing the bandage, I ducked into Paul’s open cubicle to check out his work below my ribs. The skin was shiny and red and swollen, but damn, it was a fucking amazing tattoo. Robin stared back at me in the mirror, her eyes big and raw. It was a sketch I’d started the first day we’d spent together, at the park, while she had leaned on her arm and stared out across the grass to the fountain, lost in her thoughts. Then she had turned and glanced at me, and I had seen something even then that had told me there was a connection between us.

It had grown stronger and stronger and now she was with me all the time, literally and figuratively.

The placing of the tattoo was the opposite side from my bleeding heart tattoo, because I didn’t want them to be in the same line of view at the same time. Two different meanings. Two different women.

“You done admiring yourself?” Paul asked, bent over a girl’s rib cage.

It looked like she was getting a dream catcher tattoo, which seemed to be in the top five tattoos for girls eighteen to twenty-three. It rivaled flowers, stars, and hearts for first place. I wondered what nightmares pretty young girls had that they seemed to think they needed to tattoo on their bodies as a way to capture them. Or maybe they wanted to hold on to good dreams. Funny how I always went to nightmares.

“Not yet,” I told Paul. “Not to brag or anything, but this is a sick tattoo. I love it.”

“How is that not bragging?”

That made me smile, yanking me a little out of my brooding mood.

“Let me see,” the girl said.

I moved over so she could see my side by turning her head. She was petite and pretty, probably popular at college. She looked collegiate, with her hot pink shorts and her delicate gold jewelry.

“Oh.” Her mouth formed an O, and her eyes went wide. “That’s beautiful. Is that your girlfriend?”

That was enough to make me feel a stupid swell of male pride. I couldn’t help it. “Yeah, it is. Thanks.”

“God, she is so lucky you would do something like that.” She gave an odd little laugh that was tinged with sadness. “Not a lot of guys would do that.”

The sound made me ashamed of my first reaction to her. What, like average suburban college girls didn’t go through rough shit? Robin was proof of that. So sure, I’d had a less than ideal childhood, but fuck, we all hurt.

“I’ve been told I have a little crazy in me,” I said. “Most guys just bring flowers, and I’ve never done that.”

“Some guys don’t do either.”

“Then they’re pricks,” Paul said, shading a feather.

She smiled. “True.”

“It looks good,” I said, gesturing to her tattoo. “Paul does good work, you’ll be happy with it.”

“Thanks. Has your girlfriend seen that yet?”

“Yeah, she came up right as Paul was finishing it up.” Tossing my shirt over my shoulder, I said, “But I’m out of here. See you tomorrow, bro.” I held my fist up for Paul and he paused in his work to tap me with his elbow, keeping his gloved hands clear.

“Happy birthday, jerk-off,” he said.

I grinned. “Thanks.”

“It’s your birthday?” the girl asked.

“Yes. Twenty-first.”

“Oh, wow, happy birthday then.”

“Thanks.” I waved to Paul and everyone else on my way out, pushing the door open to the warm night air. There were ashtrays on either side of the entrance and I wrinkled my nose at the stale smoke, moving away quickly.

Pulling my shirt back on, I headed down the street toward Robin’s, checking my phone again.

Nothing.

Climbing the stairs to Robin’s apartment, I was looking forward to sliding into bed next to her and just holding her in the dark. The lap dance, if she was really serious about it, could wait until tomorrow. Exhaustion seemed to have settled into my bones and I wanted a glass of milk and sleep.

Maybe I was on edge. God knew I was always suspicious. But when I pushed the door open, which wasn’t locked, I knew instantly something was wrong. The hallway that opened to the kitchen was dark, and there were shadows on the stairs leading up to the living room. I sensed immediately someone was in the house, waiting in the dark. I could hear breathing, the slight rustle of clothes as they crouched. Tensing, I stood still, letting my eyes adjust to the lack of light. Debating whether I should go to the kitchen for a knife first, or if turning my back on whoever it was would be stupid, I calculated distance between me and the stairs.

Chances were Rory and Kylie were either down the hall or with their boyfriends. Which meant Robin was upstairs by herself and the intruder was between me and her. So I forgot about getting a knife and moved fast. Head down, I connected with a body, and there was a grunt of shock. Masculine, solid, strong, was my instant assessment. Using the element of surprise, I yanked and twisted, kicking his knees out from under him, so he tumbled to the floor with a hard thump and a curse. I landed on his chest, and I was pulling my fist back to knock him unconscious when I heard multiple voices and a girl’s shriek.

What the fuck?

The lights came on suddenly, blinding me momentarily.

Then I realized I was about to punch my cousin. I was on top of Riley and he was staring up at me, amusement on his face.

“Get off me!” he said, shoving at my chest. “And happy birthday, asshole.”

“What?” I fell back onto my heels and looked around, confused. Robin, my cousins, Jessica, Rory, and Kylie were all on the stairs and Robin was holding a sign she had painted that said, “Happy Birthday, Phoenix.”

“I don’t get it,” I said stupidly, because I didn’t get it. My heart rate was slowing back to normal. “Dude, I thought you were an intruder,” I told Riley. “I was about to beat the shit out of you.”

“I figured as much. But it was supposed to be a surprise birthday party.”

“Surprise!” Jayden yelled, raising his fists up and shaking them.