THE LIGHTS ON the Body Electric Tattoo Studio sign were off when I pulled my truck into a street parking space hours after I’d left Jackson alone in my house. It was still early, well before the tattoo shop opened, but Shaw always fit my appointments in off the books, and today I was especially grateful for the distraction.

I crossed the street and nodded at several shop owners sweeping out their entryways and putting out tables, chairs, and signs. Shaw had left the door unlocked, and when I walked through, the bells jingled and Shaw glanced up from where he was leaned back in an office chair reading the newspaper, his combat boots crossed on the reception table in front of him. When he saw me, he narrowed his eyes. “You look like shit warmed over.”

I batted my lashes and smoothed back my hair. “Really? I’m glad you think so. It’s probably my new foundation.”

“What’s it called? Hammered shit?”

“Don’t remember. I’ll have to ask your mom.” I had to sidestep quickly as a Sharpie sailed past my head. “Ooooh, the man has good aim after all. I’d heard otherwise.” I moved again as he faked me out and then sent a magazine flying through the air like a Frisbee, and it hit me square in the shoulder. “Geez. Is that any way to greet a paying customer?”

Shaw snorted. “I’ve never charged your ass, but keep it up and I might change my mind.”

“Have it your way,” I said, shutting and locking the door behind me. “As long as you’re not tempted to tattoo ‘I love pussy’ on my arm. False advertising and all.”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a wink. “So, will it be coffee or hair of the beast this morning?”

“Coffee. The whole pot, if you don’t mind.”

One side of Shaw’s mouth turned up, and he folded the newspaper neatly back to its original form before getting up. “I don’t mind, but Gia might when she comes roaring in for her shift later.” He went over to the small station he had set up in the corner for his workers and clients that had a Mr. Coffee and a Keurig, and grabbed an oversized stainless steel tumbler from the cabinet underneath. Then he poured the rest of the steaming coffee from the pot and handed it over.

“Thanks.” I didn’t bother with the creamer and sugar routine this morning, nor did I wait until it cooled off any, taking a couple of deep gulps and thoroughly scalding my mouth and esophagus. Good. After last night’s activity, it fucking needed it.

While Shaw took the pot to the back to rinse and refill—because, trust, hell hath no fury like Gia without her brew—I headed over to his workstation to settle into the chair. Body Electric was Shaw’s labor of love, a small business off Ocean Avenue downtown, and the only one on the island. He and his four tattoo artists stayed busy, since vacation seemed to make the tourists want to ink their skin in a way they’d never do back home. It was how I’d met him a little over seven years ago. I’d come in, completely wasted, and he’d promptly kicked my ass right back out.

I chuckled at the memory as I looked around the space. Each artist had their own station, but there were no partitions to separate each area, so the whole shop was wide open. The walls were painted a midnight blue, setting off the silver gleam of the steel designs lining the back wall. Some of my best work. Damn, I’d really nailed those. It was a good trade-off: I decorated the shit out of his shop, he decorated the shit out of my skin.

“Doesn’t look like Adelaide hit you much yesterday,” I said, as Shaw headed over to one of the sinks set up at the back.

He turned on the faucet and set about scrubbing his hands and wrists with a thick lather of soap. “Nah, not too bad. I came down early to clear out some branches from the road before the crews came through, but that’s about it. Your place fare okay?”

Had it? One of the smaller pines had fallen in the front yard away from the house, no biggie, but the real damage had been done inside. In my own damn kitchen.

I’m such a fucking idiot. What had I been thinking going anywhere near Jackson? Regardless of the past shit we’d dredged up and the miscommunication of it all, it didn’t change the fact that we’d both gone on with our lives. We were different people now—well, I was. Jackson, however, still seemed firmly trapped both personally and professionally by his old man. Nothing would ever change as long as that bastard was around, and I wasn’t fooling myself again by getting involved with a man who’d be leaving town in a few days. Not gonna happen. My life was just fine without Jackson Davenport getting tied up in it.

“Lucas?” Shaw laughed and shut off the faucet. “Damn, man, finish that coffee and then we’ll resume conversation.”

I took another long draw and found myself wondering if Jackson was still asleep on my couch. The storm had passed sometime in the middle of the night, and I’d left right before dawn and headed to my favorite spot on one of the private beaches to watch the sunrise. It was something I did often, and it felt necessary this morning especially. With his shirt off and half covered by one of my throws, a sleeping Jackson was almost too tempting to resist, and neither of us needed me crawling on top of him for an early morning wake-up call. I shifted in my seat at the thought.

“Shaw…have you ever believed one thing and come to find out it was all a lie?”

If my question surprised Shaw, he didn’t let it show. He ripped open an alcohol swab packet and wiped the part of my arm that he’d be adding ink to eventually. Today he’d just be giving me a preview of the design he’d drawn up for me and deciding on placement.

“It’s happened before,” he said.

“What did you do about it?”

His expression turned serious. “I killed the person who lied to me.”

“Because that’s an option.” I said as he cracked a smile.

“Nah. It’s not a big deal now, but my mother lied about who our father was.”

“What?”

“Yep. Found out when I was fifteen that it wasn’t the baseball MVP she’d always told us he was. No, my father had been some rich European who’d passed through town on a holiday, knocked her up with me and Kev, and then refused to see any of us again. Classy guy.”

“Holy shit. How did I not know this?”

Shaw shrugged as he opened a box of surgical markers. “He doesn’t exist to me. Nothing to say.”

“And your mom? She lied to you.”

“She wanted us to have a better role model as a father than that fuckhead. Can you blame her?”

“Guess not.”

“I think we turned out okay. We’re not crack addicts in an alley, and it could’ve easily gone that way. I didn’t take the news well at the time.”

“Ah, yes, the rebellious phase. Now I feel sorry for your mom.”

“You should. We put that woman through hell. Explains why we were such shit ball players, though.”

I laughed, settling back in the chair as he began to freehand the design. It wouldn’t be an exact likeness of my gram, more an abstract portrait from Shaw’s memory, surrounded by her favorite flowers, magnolias. He’d be weaving them into and around the triskele design I’d gotten after my parents passed. I’d been meaning to do it for a while now, and with it being the third anniversary of her passing this week, the time seemed right. When it rained, it fucking poured, so of course Jackson had chosen now to come back into my life.

“You know, whatever you were lied to about, you get to choose the outcome and how you move on from it,” Shaw said, as if he’d sensed I’d gone back into my head.

“Wise Master Yoda. I think you chose the wrong profession.”

Shaw raised a scarred eyebrow. “Considering I’m gonna be marking your skin somethin’ permanent soon, you’d better hope I chose right.”

Before I knew it, I was telling Shaw all the details of what had happened the day before, from the letters and the truth coming out, down to me on my damn knees. This was what happened around the guy, the spilling of the guts, which was why I’d learned not to fight it and let it happen. I’d known him long enough to know he was a vault, so whatever I told him in confidence always stayed between the two of us. And he did give the best damn advice, even if I wanted to slap him shitless in the process.

When I was done with my confession, Shaw nodded. “That all?”

“Is that all? Shaw, I took advantage of the situation, got what I wanted from him, then got the hell out.”

“So you haven’t talked to Jackson since? Just pussied it upstairs to hide until he fell asleep? Doesn’t sound like the Sully boy I know.”

“The alternative was fucking him all night, which would’ve been an even bigger mistake.”

Shaw’s forehead creased. “I’m failing to see how that’s a problem…”

“Well, I would’ve missed this quality time with you, for one.”

“You would’ve been forgiven.”

“You’re a shit, you know that? If it wouldn’t fuck up my arm, I’d kick your ass right now.”

Shaw chuckled, because he knew as well as I did that no one his size was getting trampled, and definitely not by the likes of me. The guy lifted cars for fun.

“So, you talked,” Shaw said. “What’s he in town for?”

“Business shit, I guess. I didn’t ask.”

“Kind of important, isn’t it? Maybe he came for you.”

“Not in a million fucking years.”

He shrugged. “You never know.”

“Trust me, I know. A guy doesn’t just fly in after a few years to check in with someone he used to know. And definitely not a straight guy.”

Shaw pulled back in surprise. “He’s straight?”

“He’s not out, and I’d bet my savings he’s never been with another guy.”

“Huh. I didn’t catch that vibe from him at Argos. A little innocent, sure, but he eyed me good and well.”

“Excuse me?” I said sharply, and Shaw laughed.

“Relax; he wasn’t lookin’ because he was interested. More…curious. Like he’d never been around so many men in his life.”

“He went to an all-boys academy, dumbass.”

Shaw rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t translate to all-gays, babe. Give him a break.”

“Defending him now?”

“What’s the real problem, Lucas?” Shaw asked, his eyes intent on the line he drew on my bicep. “That you might actually still care about this guy?”

“What are you, my therapist?”

Shaw leaned back to inspect his work. “Sometimes.”

I thought about all the times I’d ended up in this shop or in Shaw’s condo upstairs, fully intending not to say a word but pouring my damn heart out instead. The guy had a way about him that just poked at you until the truth came streaming out, like a hole in a water balloon, whether you wanted it to or not.

“You know what your problem is?” Shaw said.

“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me.”

“You’re a self-absorbed ass stuck in your comfort zone.”

“And that’s taken years to perfect. Why fuck it up now?”

“For something special,” Shaw said softly as he began to sketch out one of the blooms. “I remember when I met you and you were still mooning over that guy. I don’t think you’ve ever gotten over him.” I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, Shaw said, “And before you say otherwise, remember I can see through your bullshit. He hurt you. Now you know it wasn’t actually his fault. So, Lucas, man. The fuck’s the problem?”

What is my problem? Seriously? My head was beginning to throb, and I didn’t like the conclusion this conversation was leading to.

“I don’t see you running to get in a relationship,” I said.

“That’s not because I’m a stubborn bastard who’s anti.”

“Then why?”

Shaw shook his head. “We’re not talkin’ about me. I’m not the one smashing hearts like the Hulk over here. It’d take a special guy to put up with my shit, and I haven’t met any of those.”

“What shit? You’re the most has-his-shit-together person I know, and that includes Bash.”

Shaw’s eyes flicked up to mine. “You only think that because I haven’t fucked you.”

“You think I don’t know you’re a kinky bastard? You’re built like a fucking ox. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”

With a laugh, Shaw continued to work in the color. “Look. You don’t have to listen to me. You should, but that’s up to you. If you don’t go make things right with this guy, you’re always gonna wonder, and by the time you get up your nerve, he’ll be married to some Sally Sue with five kids and you’ll still be fuckin’ every new face at Argos.”

Closing my eyes, I focused in on the strokes of the pen on my skin, but my mind kept popping up pictures of Jackson like it was showing me flash cards. Maybe Shaw was right, and damn him. My obstinate side wanted nothing more than to sulk in silence, but when had that ever gotten me anywhere?

“I hate you,” I said.

“Nah. You hate being wrong.”

“I hate that too.”

“Mhmm. Where’s he staying?”

“The Rosemont,” I said, and Shaw’s lips twitched.

“Ah.” When I looked at him in question, he said, “The bar’s decent. And, you know, the beds there aren’t bad either. Might be worth a trip.”

I shook my head, because of course Shaw was familiar, the dirty bastard. “Why do I get the feeling that if I don’t willingly drive myself over there that you’ll do it for me?”

The grin he gave me was Cheshire Cat wide. “Now you’re thinkin’ smart, my man.”

FUCK ME, I was doing it. Shaw’s little “go get him” speech had my ass driving over the bridge to where I sat now in the Rosemont’s guest parking lot looking up at the rising Savannah hotel. Maybe I should’ve checked for Jackson at my place first, but it was closing in on noon, and I was sure he’d hightailed it out of there the second he woke up. I was taking my chances, assuming he’d be here, and if he wasn’t, I’d come back later.

Like a fucking stalker.

After setting the alarm on my truck, I headed toward the revolving doors of the hotel’s entry. I hadn’t thought much past tracking Jackson down, and I sure as shit had no idea what I would even say if I did see him.

“Sorry about the blow job?” Because I wasn’t.

“Hope you don’t mind me showing up, because I can’t stay away from you.” Because that was more than I wanted to admit out loud.

“I was a dick and I apologize.” Yeah, that was more like it.

My curses echoed off the revolving doors, and as it spat me out into the ornate lobby, I glanced around to get a hold of my surroundings. The hotel itself was circular, so the lobby was one giant open space with the bar, restaurant, and shops hugging the sides of the curved silhouette.

Right. I’d just ask the check-in desk for his room number and they’d hand it over, easy enough. Unless they didn’t. In which case, thank fuck you could see the lobby from the bar.

Fuckin’ hell, my palms were sweaty as I headed toward the front desk attendant, and I shoved my hands in my pockets instead of letting my nerves come out for everyone to see.

The woman behind the desk smiled at me. “Checking in, sir?”

“Uh, no. I’m here to see a friend of mine, but I don’t remember which room he said he’s in, and he’s not answering his cell. Would you tell me where I can find him?”

Her smile slipped. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give out guest information.”

Yup. Figures. “I understand. Maybe you could call his room directly to see if he’s available to come down?”

She started to respond in the negative, but I couldn’t tell you anything specific she said, because out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar profile of just the man I was looking for. Through the windows of the hotel’s restaurant I could see him, a plate of food in one hand, pulling out his chair with the other.

“Never mind. Thank you for your help,” I said, already heading in Jackson’s direction. He’d changed into a freshly starched suit, and the thought crossed my mind that maybe I’d be interrupting a business meeting. But he seemed to be dining alone, and even if he wasn’t…too bad. I didn’t plan to leave until I did what I came to do.

I got halfway across the lobby when Jackson glanced up, mid-bite, and then did a double take. He dropped his fork without even seeming to notice as he watched me close the gap between us, and a nervous flutter of energy, utterly unfamiliar, passed through me.

No turning back now.