MAXWELL: Brothers Ink Tattoo (Brothers Ink Tattoo Series Book 2) Page 2

  “I thought about MMA fighting at one point but that ship has sailed. For the longest time I didn’t think I was good enough, and I let that hold me back. I’m too old now. You gotta be a kid for that. Now? I don’t know.”

  “Max.” She leaned forward, touching his arm. “Don’t ever let feelings of inadequacy keep you from going for your dream. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you aren’t good enough to have what you want. And don’t let negative thoughts stand in the way of getting it.”

  “Guess that worked out for you, huh?”

  “It did. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  “I’m happy for you, girl, for you and Jameson, both. So, don’t be too hard on him tonight, okay?”

  “Well, since you just gave me a fabulous foot massage, how can I tell you no?”

  “You can’t. That’s part of my charm.”

  She laughed, but then touched his arm again. “Max, seriously, if there’s something more out of life that you find you want, don’t wait for ‘someday’ to make it happen. If you do, ‘someday’ will never come.”

  Chapter Three

  Malee carried a tub of dishes she’d bussed from a table in the restaurant dining room to the kitchen. Once again, a customer had grabbed her arm, trying to ask her for something. It happened at least once a week. It was frustrating because she couldn’t understand them, and they couldn’t understand why she didn’t respond. This one had gotten mad and shoved past her, almost knocking her down. It was scary—the way he’d grabbed her.

  Her father always told her never let the customers know she was deaf. He told her it was for her own safety; he didn’t want any of them to follow her in town, targeting her due to her disability and using it as a weakness against her. She was a pretty girl, her father told her, and she must guard against men with bad intentions who may prey upon her.

  She thought he worried too much, but every once in a while, like today, a man would scare her into believing he might be right, that it was something she should be on guard against.

  Malee set the tub down in the kitchen and turned, plowing right into her brother, Kiet, who was carrying two plates of food that crashed to the floor. They both quickly bent to pick up the pieces, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Kiet signed to her. It’s okay. It’s my fault. I wasn’t looking.

  He glanced at their father, and she followed his gaze. Her father was shaking his head, grabbing another plate and dishing up another entrée. Malee knew he was probably muttering under his breath about how much money he’d just lost.

  Her eyes met Kiet’s and glazed over with tears. He squeezed her arm and signed, It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll clean this up.

  Malee dashed up the backstairs to throw herself on her bed, crying into her pillow. Sometimes she hated her life.

  Chapter Four

  Max walked through the back door of the old building on Fourth Street. The painted sign on the brick said Fourth Street Gym, but everybody called it Pops’ Gym. Pops was the cantankerous old man who owned the joint and held a very special place in Max’s heart. If it hadn’t been for the old man, Max would have probably headed down the wrong road as a teenager. It had been Pops who had taken the time with him, and given him a direction and goal, way before Jameson had opened up the tattoo shop—long before Brothers Ink became the glue that held them all together. No, back then, it was Pops who was the guiding hand that steered Max in the right direction.

  Pops had come into his life at a time when Max had just lost both his parents in a tragic car accident. Suddenly, it was the four brothers all alone in this world. They had no one but each other. Jameson, who was just eighteen at the time and was supposed to head off to college that fall, had immediately given up all of that and stepped up, fighting tooth and nail against the legal system to keep his brothers from being split into different foster homes. He made sure the family stayed together. He’d worked his ass off, shoveling feed at Ryerson’s Feed Store all day, then apprenticing at night with a local tattoo artist until he was able to learn the craft, hoping it would be a marketable skill with which he could support his brothers.

  Max, being the second oldest at fifteen, did his part as well, making sure the two younger boys—Liam who was ten and Rory who was seven—were taken care of while Jameson worked. Max helped them with their homework, cooked them dinner, and put them to bed.

  But in his free time, he had plenty of opportunity to get into trouble. At fifteen, it was easy to rebel against all that responsibility, especially with the anger that brewed inside him over losing his parents. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. He’d been tempted by the wrong crowd, tempted to take up petty theft—five-finger-discounts, they called them. He and some other rowdy boys from town got into their fair share of scraps, too, fighting openly in the back alleys of downtown. Until one day, Pops saw them and broke the fight up. He told the boys if they wanted to beat each other to a pulp, they’d might as well come inside and do it in his gym.

  They took him up on his offer, and everything changed for Max that day.

  Slowly, but surely, Pops’ brand of tough love seeped into the edges of Max’s hardened heart. Through the art of boxing, the old man taught him respect, discipline, how to rise above failure, and that working hard toward a goal made it that much sweeter when you finally achieved it.

  He gave Max simpler things, too, like a place to go after school, and a place to hang out other than the street. He gave him attention, something Max craved, and he gave him a strong adult role model… Not that Jameson didn’t strive to be one, but he was barely older than Max was himself.

  The old metal door banged closed behind him as he entered the dark cool gym, and the familiar smell of stale sweat hit his nostrils, shaking him from his memories. Max glanced over to the teenage boys taking a mixed martial arts class. That wasn’t part of the offerings at Pops’ back in Max’s day. Back then they’d learned boxing. But last year, Max had talked Pops into giving it a chance and hiring a guy to teach a few classes. It had turned into a success. Then Max had talked Pops into giving the boys off the street free classes over the summer, a time Max knew when idle hands could get a boy into trouble. There’d been quite a response, and now some of those same boys were so hooked on the sport, they worked afterschool jobs in order to pay their way for advanced classes.

  Max moved to the metal staircase in the back and headed up to the small office Pops kept on the second floor. He pushed open the door without knocking. The old man was kicked back in his chair, dozing.

  Max grinned. “Go home, Pops. I’ll lock up.”

  Pops startled awake. “Huh. Oh, Max.” He ran a hand over his face. “I was just resting my eyes.”

  Max chuckled. “Right. Go on home to Eleanor.”

  He looked at the time. “Gotta close the place up. They should be done soon.”

  “I can take care of it. Go home and get some rest.”

  Pops nodded and stood, pulling his jacket on, his motions slow.

  The old man looked tired, his age showing more and more recently. And Max knew the reason. “How is she?”

  Pops looked off at the small window as raindrops began pelting against the glass. “She’s doing as well as can be expected. She’s starting to need more and more help, though. We’ve got a nurse comin’ by twice a week now.”

  “I’m sorry, Pops.”

  He nodded. “Been thinkin’ about takin’ her down to Florida. Our Katy is there. She’d be a big help.”

  “What about the gym?”

  Pops huffed out a breath. “Close down, I guess. I don’t know who’d want an old busted down place like this anymore. What do you call ‘em? Millennials? They go to the fancy places now, the ones with saunas and spin classes and all that crap. They don’t want to go to an old school place like mine.”

  Max grinned. “Old school is cool, Pops. Haven’t you heard?”

  Pops chuckled. “Yeah. Right.”

&n
bsp; ***

  Malee secretly watched from the shadows of the corner of the gym as her brother’s MMA class finished up. She’d followed him down the two blocks from the restaurant, like she often did, and snuck in the door. But it wasn’t really the MMA class that held her interest or had her coming down here every week. It was the big man from the tattoo shop. The one named Max. He had enthralled her from the first minute she’d laid eyes on him. But he’d been missing the last few times she’d snuck down here. And as she looked toward the punching bag hanging in the corner, it appeared he was a no-show again.

  The class wrapped up, and the students headed to the locker room in the back. The big cavernous space with the boxing ring in one corner, the MMA area with its large matted floor, and the exercise equipment in the other corner seemed dark and still.

  Malee eyed the punching bag as the frustration in her simmered. Her eyes darted around, seeing no one. She moved quietly toward it as thoughts of all that had transpired that day rolled through her—the encounter with the customer, the accident with Kiet, her father’s disappointed look. Then on top of everything, she missed getting to see Max. It was a stupid crush, she knew, but still, it had become one small highlight she looked forward to every week. Disappointment melded with frustration, and she pulled her arm back and punched the bag. It felt good, and soon she was pummeling it, her arms swinging hard and fast, her face tight with anger. She let it all out, releasing the flood of feelings until the torrent of emotions rolling inside her boiled over, and she found herself clinging to the bag as she burst into tears, her shoulders shaking silently as the bag swung slowly.

  It was then that a large hand appeared just above her head, steadying the bag. Her eyes moved from the hand up the strong muscled arm, and her head twisted to see the face that haunted her dreams.

  Max.

  Startled, she took a step away.

  He smiled down at her. And then the smile faded as his eyes swept over her cheeks, wet with tears. But then he did the most unexpected thing. His hand lifted, and he began to sign to her. Just letters. Slowly made, as someone who was just learning the skill would do, spelling out the words.

  You okay?

  She was so shocked that she could only stare at him through her tears.

  And then that same hand lifted to her face, and his thumb gently brushed the wetness from her cheek. His eyes searched hers as he signed again.

  Tears. Why?

  She covered her cheeks and turned her back to him, embarrassment flooding through her. She was mortified he’d seen her crying.

  She felt his hands close softly over her shoulders, turning her back around. He cupped her face, tilting her unwilling eyes up to his. When she finally looked up, she saw the questioning expression on his face as she read the word on his lips, why?

  For some reason, the fact that he was showing her any sympathy had her breaking down again, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

  He looked a little out of his depth, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the silly girl who was falling to pieces right in front of him. But then he surprised her. Almost as if it was an instinctive reaction, he reached out and pulled her up against him, his arms wrapping tightly around her in the shadowy corner. They stood there a long time, until her sobs faded away.

  She had time to realize all sorts of things. Like how comforting his arms were, how good he smelled, like the wind and rain, and some manly soap combined with his own scent. She was cuddled up against this man she barely knew, as if she belonged there. He was warm beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, and she could feel the vibration of his heart thudding under her ear.

  His hands were soothing as they smoothed up her back. She’d never had a man touch her like this. His touch was calming and tender. She didn’t want to lose the feeling as she stood there with her face buried against him and her hands pushed under the warmth of his arms. She felt safe, protected, sheltered, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever.

  But then she remembered she barely knew this man, so she pushed back away from his body, and he let her go, but his hands still held her arms lightly. She looked up at him, studying his face. It was dimly lit in the cavernous room, but she saw the genuine care in his eyes and the question there, too. He still had no idea why she was upset.

  Just a bad day, she signed. She tried to laugh it off and then, daring to admit her attraction, she signed to him. You haven’t been here in a while.

  He shook his head in confusion, not catching all her signs, so she tried a simpler version. She pointed to him. Then signed three letters N O T. Then pointed to the floor.

  That had a smile pulling at the corner of his beautiful mouth. Her gaze dropped to his gorgeous lips for a moment before returning to his eyes as he tilted his head and signed slowly.

  You noticed.

  She nodded shyly.

  He signed some more, his fingers fumbling slowly over the motions.

  I had work.

  It seemed he had a lot he wanted to say to her, but signing every letter was slowing him down. She knew the frustration he felt. She felt it every day, trying to communicate with the hearing world. But he was making the effort. She couldn’t believe he’d actually learned the alphabet. Had he done it for her? Because when she’d delivered lunch that afternoon several weeks ago, he hadn’t known any sign language. The thought that he had done it just for her had a thrill of pleasure shooting through her. It had been a long time since anyone had done anything like that for her, put actual effort into something like that, just to be able to say hello to her if he ever chanced to see her again.

  He held up a finger, indicating to wait a minute.

  She frowned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, his thumb moving over the screen. She assumed he had a call or text come in, but when he didn’t put it to his ear, she knew there’d been no ring that she couldn’t hear. After a moment, he turned the phone toward her to see.

  She looked at the lit up screen. He’d pulled up his notes app and had typed out a message to her. She grinned at his ingenuity and read the words.

  Are you okay? Why were you crying?

  They began passing the phone back and forth.

  It’s nothing. Just a bad day. You learned sign.

  Just the alphabet.

  Why?

  So the next time I saw you, I could say hello to you.

  That had her face lighting up as she pointed to her own chest and mouthed, for me?

  Yes, ma’am.

  Thank you.

  You’re welcome. Are you waiting for your brother?

  She shook her head, her eyes darting to the locker room as she stepped back.

  Max frowned and typed out a message.

  What’s wrong?

  He doesn’t know I snuck down here.

  Snuck?

  I’m not supposed to be here.

  Why?

  My father is very strict.

  Oh.

  I should go before Kiet sees me.

  Max looked over his shoulder as the locker room door opened, and he heard voices. He pointed at a door behind Malee and opened it. He motioned for her to enter and held his finger to his lips, signaling her to remain quiet.

  She nodded and stepped into the storage closet. He closed the door, but left it ajar an inch so she could peek through. He moved away, waving to several of the students as they exited the gym. She saw Kiet leave the building with the last of them. Then the class instructor came out. He shook hands with Max, and she could see their mouths moving as they spoke to each other, then both smiled and laughed.

  The teacher went outside. With the door opening, Malee could feel the chilly night air sweep into the building and with it the clean scent of the rain she knew was now falling outside.

  When the students were all gone, Max moved to check the locker room, then came back and motioned her out.

  He typed another message to her.

  They’re all gone. Do you want me to show you how to
punch the bag correctly?

  She read the message, and her wide eyes flicked up to his. Her first instinct was to shake her head no and run home, but she didn’t want her time with Max to be over. So she gathered her courage and looked over at the bag.

  He held the phone up for her to read, the dare in his eyes plain. Or are you afraid of me?

  That had her chin coming up. She’d never been one to shy away from a challenge, so she did the only thing she could do. She shook her head, gestured to the bag, and spoke, forming the words carefully, “Show me.”

  His eyes sparkled at her response before he stepped away to fetch a pair of gloves. He helped her slip them on, patiently lacing them up for her. She watched, mesmerized by his callused fingers and strong hands as he worked.

  His eyes flashed up to hers, and he smiled. Warmth spread through her chest, and she couldn’t help the answering grin that broke across her face.

  With big gentle hands on her shoulders, he positioned her in front of the bag. His hands closed over her forearms and brought her gloves up to jaw height, tucking her elbows in. He demonstrated with his own hands, making fists tight to his face, indicating that she should keep her hands up, close to her face.

  She mimicked him, and even as she did so, she couldn’t help letting her eyes drift over his bulging biceps. They were covered with the most beautiful ink she’d ever seen, that scrolled up under the short sleeve of his T-shirt.

  He bounced on his feet, dancing toward the bag and away, pivoting right and left and jabbing at the bag to show her. Then with a lift of his chin, he indicated for her to try it.

  She bounced around on her feet and swung at the bag.

  He grinned and shook his head at her pathetic attempt.

  She didn’t take offense, and they both laughed.

  He moved behind her, and she felt his hands close over her hips as he repositioned her stance, his heat upon her back and his breath on her ear as he reached around her to take her wrists in his grasp. He guided her movements, making the punching motions with her in slow motion. With every jab at the bag, he made sure she touched her jaw with the opposite free hand, indicating she needed to remember to keep both hands up at face level. Then he stepped back and nodded for her to try it.