Mad Woman✓

13. So it goes

"And all the pieces fall right into place, getting caught up in the moment... Lipstick on your face ...so it goes.." 

   POV TAYLOR:

We were in Corsica for over two weeks. My leg is still weaker than it used to be, but I can walk even though it's with crutches.

John and Joe have been training. A lot. They ran so many miles, and I think in the first few days, John brought Joe to a shooting range to personally teach him some beginners stuff.

My mom was with me almost the entire time. We had some good talks. And I think we're better than ever.

She and John left yesterday. Mom brought the cats back home too. It is just not ideal to go anywhere and have to keep them alive as well... John dressed up as Mom's bodyguard because their trip wouldn't go unnoticed since they left the private jet here for us.

"The plane will be landing in Reykjavik, Iceland in twenty minutes."

I get up to grab my bag, but Joe is already giving it to me.

"Joe, I can grab it myself."

"I don't want you to put too much stress on your leg."

I smile at him, kissing his knuckles, "I know that, but I need to move it. Otherwise, it will become extremely stiff again.." He puts my bag beside me on the couch and kisses my forehead. Butterflies rush through my stomach.

"I know."

As I search for my phone in my bag, he sits beside me. He wraps both arms around my body and rests his head on my shoulder.

I text my Mom, 'Landing in twenty minutes. Love you.' She texts back immediately, 'Stay safe. Be careful. Love you too.'

I rest my head against Joe's and sigh, "I wish everything was easier." He nods and pushes my hair behind my ear.

He runs his finger over the tattoo of the wolf on my arm and asks softly, "Do they have meaning?"

I shrug, "Not really... They just.. They eh.. They cover up.. scars."

His eyes meet mine and I sigh, "This one", I say, following the lines of the wolf, "It covers up the scar I- When I became part of the gang, Morris placed a tracker in my arm. They all have one, he said, but I guess he was lying... And, well, when I ran away from it all.. from them... I went to our apartment and cut it out of my arm there."

"You cut it out?" he asks, his accent has thickened, he is worried, upset.. Maybe even shocked.

"Yes. With a steak knife", I continue, avoiding his gaze, "I left the tracker there so he thought I was sleeping in our bed.. But I left, bleeding like crazy."

I don't want to discuss the other tattoos, so I get up and put on one of his sweaters. "How come you have none? Unless they're in a very weird place even I haven't even seen.."

He chuckles, "I think that I just don't like the.. the commitment. I maybe would want one someday. But I need to have wanted a specific design for a long time then. Because I think.. No, I don't want to walk around with a tattoo I am slowly starting to.. to loathe, you know?"

I nod, "I used to think about it that way as well... But I prefer looking at this than at.... at what's underneath."

He smiles apologetically.

"Don't- I don't want you to look at me like that." "Like what?" "Like I'm a- I don't know, like I'm an abandoned.. puppy that.. needs shelter."

"I don't look at you like-" "You do. All the time, honestly."