Page 76 of The Complete Truth Duet
I wrapped my arms around him, turning my head to give him more access to my neck. “A vacation in a padded room does sound peaceful, but I don’t know if they allow conjugal visits.” I felt his lips on my neck curve into a smile. “I also don’t know if there’s some sort of celibacy vow involved with being a saint. So perhaps I should do some research and get back to you on that one.”
“Perhaps you should.” He went for my shirt, but he froze when we heard Savannah and River arguing in the hall. “Okay,” he drawled, moving off me and rolling onto his back.
I laughed as he threw his arm over his face, a very noticeable bulge showing behind his sweats.
“Soooo…truth or lie,” he said.
“Nuh-uh. My turn. What do your tattoos mean?”
“I don’t actually know.” His lips thinned as he lifted his arm above us, turning it as though he were inspecting it for the very first time.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You picked them out, didn’t you?”
“I guess I did,” he answered absently, his focus landing on the inked gears on the back of his left hand.
It was a complex design—by far the most intricate of his tattoos—that made his hand appear mechanical, filled with nuts and bolts rather than bones and blood. A circle of Roman numerals surrounded it, giving it the effect of a porthole into his flesh. For several beats, he stared at it, opening and closing his fist, the tendons making the ink dance.
“So why’d you get that one?” I pressed.
He chuckled, but it sounded a little sad and a lot broken. “I blindly chose it out of the artist’s portfolio. I opened to a random page and stabbed a finger down.” The skin between his eyes crinkled, and then, as though he couldn’t stand to look at it for a second more, he dropped his arm to the mattress. “It didn’t matter what it was. I just needed it to be there.” He went silent.
Physically, he was still there. Holding me the same way he had been only seconds earlier.
Mentally, he was at least a million miles away. But the longer he remained quiet, the more I thought a million miles and four years was probably more accurate.
His chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath, and he held it far longer than I’d thought possible.
I waited patiently. Of course I was curious. I would have loved the truth about that tattoo. Mainly why he was having such a visceral reaction to a simple question. But I didn’t want the answer at the price it was costing him.
I slid my hand over his stomach and hugged him as tight as I could. “Lie. It’s okay.”
“I hate lying to you.”
“It’s not a lie if you tell—”
“It’s still a lie, Cora.”
“A wise man once told me that not all lies are bad.”
He sighed but said nothing else.
We lay there together for a long time.
My head on his chest. His hand on the curve of my hip.
Perfectly normal.
Awkward as hell.
When his breathing finally evened out, I glanced up to see if he’d fallen asleep. His eyes were still open, aimed up at the four words Nic had once written in glow-in-the-dark stars across my ceiling. I hadn’t known it when he’d put them there, but those four words became more precious to me than any “I love you” he’d ever uttered.
After he was gone, they were a reminder to live when I didn’t want to.
To breathe when it felt impossible.
To keep going when all I really wanted to do was quit.
As far as I knew, Nic hadn’t been able to see the future, but the day he’d chosen to write those words on the ceiling above our bed, he’d proved that he knew me better than anyone else ever would.
One in. One out.
Now, lying there with Penn, I could only hope they were offering him even a morsel of the comfort they’d given me over the years.
I placed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Yeah, I do,” he mumbled. “It’s just that there’s not always a lie to give. Not everything is black and white. Sometimes, the most important details are found in the gray. So, with that in mind, this is all I have for you tonight.” His eyes found mine, that weight inside them heavier than ever. “Truth. My tattoos mean nothing.”
I eyed him warily. “That didn’t seem like a nothing reaction, Penn.”
“It wasn’t. But it’s still the truth.”
I narrowed my eyes, searching his face. But, in true Penn fashion, he sucked in a breath, held it for several seconds, then blew it out and went right back to normal.
So. Freaking. Weird.
“I believe it’s my turn again,” he announced.
“Oh, no. This game is officially over for the evening.” I started to roll away but only made it to my back before he caught me.
