Suddenly, it’s not just Nine I see standing there. It’s the boy from the bridge. The one I’ve thought about every single day for four years, and he’s standing here right in front of me.
And I’m in love with him.
“It can’t be you.” But, I already know the truth.
He reaches for the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head.
“Why are you…” I stop and pause, not because of his chiseled abs or the v-muscles that travel down into his low jeans or even his expansive and muscular chest, but because I realize what he’s trying to show me. Proof. Proof in the form of a large, black bird tattoo inked across his chest that gleams with sweat under the bridge light above. The bird’s wings are spread, its feathers reaching all the way to the top of his shoulders. The rubies in its eyes made to look as if they’re sparkling. It’s not just a black bird. It’s a raven.
My raven.
“It’s the one from my mother’s pendant. The one I lost before I…” Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I start rambling. The truth is right in front of me, but I’m having a hard time grasping it because it keeps slipping through my fingers. “I mean, lots of people have bird tattoos.”
Nine reaches inside his pocket. “But do lots of people have bird tattoos that look exactly like this?” He holds out his hand, releasing the pendant while holding onto the chain.
The raven swings from side to side before my eyes like a hypnotist’s charm. It’s ruby red eyes glint as they reflect the light from the bridge overhead.
Nine grabs my wrist and turns it so that my palm is open and flat. He drops my necklace into my hand. I quickly close my fingers around it as if it’s going to fly off into the humid night air.
Nine’s voice is low and strained. “The cops told me there was no chance that you survived the fall. That no one ever had before. And now…and now you’re here. Right in front of me. I couldn’t believe it at first either, when I saw that picture of you and your parents at your house. I still can’t fucking believe it. All these years later.”
I’m at a loss for words. I have so many questions, but I don’t ask any of them. I don’t even have control of my own faculties because I can't stop myself from stepping forward and running my fingertips across the tattoo on his chest, as if I’m checking to make sure that what I’m seeing is real.
Nine lets out a low hiss at the contact. His chest muscles flex under my touch.
The tattoo is real, the pendant in my hand real, and so is the man whose skin it’s marked into. Real and…him. Nine is the teenage boy from the bridge, but he’s no longer a boy. He’s very much a grown man in every way.
I look up into his hazel eyes as if I’m seeing him for the very first time. My voice is an almost inaudible whisper. “It’s…it’s you.”
He closes his hand over mine, which is still on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath my palm.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
He smooths his thumb over my cheek and lips. “I couldn’t. If I told you the truth, that meant I’d have to admit it to myself, but I couldn’t keep away from you. I tried, but I just can’t. Just like I can’t stop touching you. Kissing you.” He brushes his lips over mine. “Loving you.”
I open my eyes, blinking away the tears. I’m so overwhelmed that I have no clue what to say. What comes out is a strangled laugh and a single word. “Hi.”
He holds my face now with both hands, searching my eyes. His grin widens. I realize I’m trembling, but it’s nothing compared to the earthquake-like impact of his next words.
“Hello, Poe.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
LENNY
I want to be mad that he’s kept this secret from me, and part of me is mad. But the other part of me is so happy to have found him again and so filled with desire and lust for him that the anger gets filed under my TO BE DEALT WITH LATER category, and I concentrate on the beautiful man standing naked behind me in the bedroom of the RV.
Nine pushes between my shoulder blades, and I fall forward onto the bed. He lifts my hips so that I’m on my knees. My back arched, with my ass in the air, my chest pressed into the mattress. I feel the weight of the bed dip as he climbs behind me, spreading my legs with his knee. “So, fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice raspy. He grabs a handful of my ass and roughly squeezes. I moan and arch my back more, needing to feel more of him. All of him. He chuckles, “Patience, little bird. I know what you need.”