Harper tugged her shirt down and made for the door.Crap.He’d beaten her to it.She felt trapped, a feeling that was too familiar.Too painful.She needed air.Needed to get to the safety of her apartment where she could breathe again.
“Please move,” she whispered through gritted teeth, willing herself under control.
“Not until I’ve done what you asked me to do.I’m not going to touch you unless you agree to it, but I’m not letting you run out of here like this.”
Harper shook her head, starting to feel faint.Her breaths came in short bursts.
“There’s no need for me to stay.”She heard her voice waver, betraying just how close to the surface her emotions were running.“You already said you couldn’t come up with anything appropriate for this, so please just let me leave.”
“Words,darlin’.Appropriatewords.I couldn’t come up with anything to say to you that felt right.There’s plenty I cando.”
Her breathing slowed as she tried to stave off the panic attack threatening to consume her.She stared at the floor.
“Let’s sit you down before you pass out and I have to carry you.There’s a hydraulic bed in a room in the back.I can get you some water and take a better look at what I’d be working with.”
His words were practical, his tone soothing.
“If I walk away, you gonna bolt on me?”
Still staring down, she noticed he hadn’t fastened his black biker boots properly.His jeans were frayed at the hem.She slowly shook her head, humiliation keeping her from looking up into his eyes.
***
What did you say to someone who had gone through something so traumatic?What did you do?It wasn’t like he had any professional training—just years of listening to people’s stories using the tattoo process as therapy.No tattoo was going to make this go away for Harper.
He moved slowly, afraid that sudden movements might spook her and send her running for the door.If he could just get her to the back room and get her comfortable, he was sure he could talk her through this.
“Follow me back here.You don’t like anything we do, you just tell me to stop and I’ll back away immediately.Okay?”
His heart broke for her a little as she wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at him for the first time since she’d bolted for the door.She briefly met his eyes, and he felt it like a punch to the solar plexus.He had the passing thought that those remarkable eyes needed to be sparkling with happiness, love—hell, even lust—not clouded over with fear.
There was the slightest nod of the head.Okay then.Relief washed through him.
Pushing open the door, he was grateful to see the room was spotless.Not for the first time, he sent a mental thank you to Pixie for her diligence.
He turned the lights on to full, thinking it might make her feel safer.“Hop up on here.”He patted the black leather tattooing bed as Harper followed him in.“I’m just going to get you a bottle of water, and then we’ll take a look at this.”In the kitchen area he leaned his forehead for a moment on the cool exterior of the fridge.He struggled to control his fury at whoever had done this to her, the desire to punch a wall burning through him.
He opened her water for her when he returned, as her hands were shaking.She took a small sip.
“Okay, Harper.Here’s what we need to happen.You’ll need to take off your shirt again, sweetheart, and either give it to me to hang on the hook by the door or keep hold of it yourself.Whichever makes you feel most comfortable.
“I’ll go scar by scar, look over each one, and tell you which will or won’t tattoo well.You can pretty much tattoo on anything, but how the ink spreads and how it looks on the scar tissue is less predictable than it is on unscarred tissue.It’s harder to guarantee what it’s going to look like when it’s done.”
The cupboard at the back of the room contained gloves and he grabbed a pair before returning to stop in front of Harper.“When I’ve had a good look, I can let you know where the challenges might be and you can let me know what you want to do.You think we can do that?”
“I’ll try.That which does not kill us makes us stronger, right?”
“You’re quoting Kelly Clarkson?”
“No, Nietzsche,” Harper replied with a quiet laugh.“Wouldn’t have pegged you as a Kelly fan.”
“Never.And if you ever mention this conversation, I’ll deny all knowledge of it.”
Finally, the making of a smile.
Trent studied her as she removed her shirt for the second time.Any inappropriate thoughts that might have crossed his mind disappeared the moment he saw the extent of her injuries.His hands were chilled, and for the first time in years, he wondered whether they were going to be too cold.The gloves made a snapping sound as he pulled them on.
“You want me to take the shirt?”
