“Just charge her for time.”
I spin around. Clancy is standing at the counter, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I can’t read. Clancy raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“She’ll be back to finish it.” Knight’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “No point charging for work that’s not done.”
“I can pay for the whole thing,” I protest, but Knight shakes his head. The certainty in his voice roots me to the spot. “How do you know?”
He takes a step closer, and I forget how to breathe. “That design...it means something to you.”
My throat tightens. Somehow, he knows that what I need isn’t pity or judgment, but understanding.
“Forty-two fifty,” Clancy says, breaking the spell. “For time and materials.”
I dig out my card, hands trembling. It slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor.
Perfect. Now I’m being klutzy on top of everything else.
My cheeks burn as I bend to retrieve it, and when I straighten, Knight is right there. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
He holds out a King Ink business card.
“For aftercare questions.” His voice is rough, like he’s forcing the words out. “Keep it moisturized. Unscented lotion. And if anything looks off—redness, swelling, anything—call me. My number’s on the back. Don’t go swimming.”
I take the card. My fingers brush his again, and this time I know I don’t imagine the magnetic pull between us. The way his eyes drop to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before snapping back up.
“Thank you.” It comes out barely above a whisper.
He nods once before turning and walking back to his station, and I’m left standing there with my heart racing and his phone number burning in my palm.
I pay in a daze, quickly signing the receipt. The wrapped tattoo pulses against my collarbone like a second heartbeat.
When I reach the door, the late afternoon sun hits my face, warm and bright. It feels like returning to reality, but I’m disappointed in myself for letting the pain get the better of me. Knight was unfathomably kind to me.
Knight.
His voice when he told me there was no shame in tapping out, he wasn’t mean about it. His kindness made my chest ache in a way the needle never could.
My phone buzzes with a text from my friend Sarah:How did it go?! Did you do it?! Send pics!!!
I look down at the card in my hand. At the phone number I already know I’ll memorize before I go to sleep tonight. At the partial tattoo hidden beneath my shirt, throbbing against my collarbone.
As I walk to my car, touching the tender skin over my heart, I know it’s more than just a tattoo. It’s the first time in years I’ve wanted something badly enough to take it for myself.
I know I want to finish the tattoo, but I’m not brave enough yet.
I also want Knight, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be brave enough for that.
CHAPTER 3
KNIGHT
I’ve scrubbed the same spot on the counter five times now.
It’s already clean. Has been since before I started. But my hands need something to do, somewhere to go that isn’t reaching for my phone to check if she’s texted.
She hasn’t. Why would she? I’m the guy who made her cry.
I scrub harder.
