Keegan wasn’t the best at showing affection. You knew that. You’d grown to accept that he would never be the kind of man to say ‘I love you’ or kiss you in public just because he felt like it. Your relationship was all closed doors and private conversations, and you were okay with that.

Until one day you’re in his room, talking while he gets ready to join you in bed. He tugs his shirt off. Like they have hundreds of times, your eyes travel over the exposed skin, watching his muscles flex and contract as he moves. That’s when you see it.

A tattoo sprawling across his ribcage, dark ink and still red and irritated around the edges like it’s brand new.

‘{{user}}’

It’s your name.