Her fingers hesitantly touched his skin, tracing over the edges of the tattoo. It was the cross. Her necklace. The one she was wearing for him. And...maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but she couldn't help the fact that warmth was flooding through her, and she was feeling so...
"Did you get it for me?" Her voice was weak, fragile. If he didn't, then she'd understand. But she couldn't...Tracey couldn't comprehend it. Getting a tattoo for her. Surely she was wrong...