Not Like You

Chapter Twenty-Six

"No, you aren't a burden, Miel. I brought you here," I felt better, so Max let me migrate around the house as I pleased.

"Yes, then I got sick, and you've been taking care of me all day. Face it, I'm a burden," I crawled onto the couch and tucked my feet in.

"I enjoyed taking care of you. If you were a burden, I would have driven you back and let Harlow take care of you," I slapped his arm playfully and he laughed.

"I still feel bad. What can I do to pay you back?" I asked.

"Just say you'll help take care of me if I ever need it," I nod and he gets up. He wasn't wearing a shirt again, and his sculpted back was covered in tattoos.

"Are you done staring, Miel?" he asks. I snap out of y daze and blush.

"I was just wondering about your tattoos," he grabbed an iced tea and tossed it in my direction. It was a pretty long throw, so I was surprised when I caught it.

"You want a closer look?" he asks, all serious.

"Sure," he comes and kneels below the couch, his back facing me,

"You can touch them," I ran my hand over the black swirls. His tattoos were weird. They consisted of thick black swirls, but images within. They went around his right arm, across the top of his back, and down the other arm. 

"Why are some spaces empty?" I as. His right arm was full, but his lower left had less.

"I get a new tattoo once in a while and put it in one of the spaces," he turned slightly and watched as I examined each tattoo carefully. Some of them made no sense to me, but others were beautiful, although no color made itself present. Just black.

"Are the tattoos just random?" I aks. He shakes his head.

"Not all of them. I remember getting my first one when I was wasted and fifteen," he pointed to his shoulder and I saw a small flower.

It's beautiful," I say. It looked like a daisy.

"Yeah, but that alone looked girly, so the next day, when I wasn't drunk, I got my biological father to sign another slip and get me permission for some lines. I built it up slowly but surely," so many questions swarmed my mind and threatened to burst from my mouth, but I just shut it and moved my hands away from my back.

"You have questions," Max looked at me and I smiled.

"You have a terrible poker face, Miel," he crawled next to me on the couch and pulled my feet on his lap.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a naturally curious person,"

"I know,"

"Can I ask some questions," he took a breath.

"You can, but I can't promise answers," I nod.

"What is the deal with you and Harlow having different Dads?" he laughed sourly.

"Wow, straight to the point, Miel," I moved my feet and he sighed.

"Well, I don't know where to start. Here's the brief version... my Dad was a shithole. A worthless piece of junk. He wasn't a drug addict or a drunk, he just didn't give a shit about me. My mother fell in love with him, and they had me. She never married him. he said he wanted to be in my life, but I haven't seen him in years. I didn't see him much when I was younger either, just went to see him on weekends," he put his feet on the coffee table in front of him and continued, "my mother fell in love again, but with Harlow's Dad. Harlow's dad was more my dad than my own, but I can see how uneasy he can be if he's alone with me. It's like he's scared I'll turn out the same as my Dad. And before you ask, he was more white. My father had the same skin tone as my mother, but Harlow's Dad was almost as white as it gets," I flipped around and put my head in Max's lap.