“I can’t go if you don’t let go of me,” he murmured.
“Right,” I agreed, still not letting go.
“Riggs.” He turned his wrist until his hand was palm up, resting on top of mine. “Thank you for the tea.”
“You barely had any.”
“It was still good,” he said. “Thank you again for the hoodie and the tattoo.”
Smith waited, lifted his hand from mine and then went to the door. His socked feet padded quietly across the floor, followed by a gentle thud as he leaned into the wall to put his shoes back on. The rubber soles of his sneakers hit the floor and the door creaked when he opened it.
It was a fleeting thing, I realized, that moment between us in the kitchen. Was I really so out of practice that I didn’t evenknow how to let another person know I was interested in them? Was it the fear that would come when it was time to have a sex conversation with them? Was it my subconscious trying to convince me being with anyone after Ev was the worst kind of betrayal?
“Smith?” I forced his name out and he stopped, leaning back so he could see me in the kitchen where my feet had apparently cemented themselves to the floor.
“Yeah?”
“Make sure you keep your tattoo clean,” I said, wincing as soon as the words left my mouth. “If you have any problems with it?—”
He flashed me a sad smile. “I know where to find you.”
Another lingering pause, a silence between us that felt a lot like his hand resting in mine as if it were meant to be there. But before I found the courage to say anything about it, Smith slipped out onto the landing and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 9
SMITH
Iwent home after leaving Ink and Ember, and I stayed there the entire day. I ignored Asha’s calls, ignored Hunter’s messages, and I ignored Lincoln’s phone calls. One of the three was more persistent than the others, and Lincoln showed up at my front door right before dinner time with my brother in tow.
“He won’t be mad,” Lincoln said as soon as I opened the door. He rolled his eyes at Hunter, then gave me a tentative smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
I stepped out of the way to let them both in, then went back into the living room. Lincoln made himself at home on my couch, snuggling up next to me like he owned the place. Hunter sat down beside him, resting a hand on Lincoln’s thigh, the three of us connected like a more emotionally stunted human centipede.
“You didn’t need to come,” I said. “I would have texted eventually.”
“You were upset last night,” Hunter interjected. “Lincoln was worried.”
I glanced at my brother. “Were you not?”
Hunter chewed nervously on his lip like I’d just caught him in an uncomfortable truth.
“Not in the same way,” Lincoln answered for him. “I knew you’d pull through this little hiccup, but Hunter knows your differently than I do.”
“I’m fine,” I assured them both. “Just been thinking about a lot of things lately and confusing myself is all.”
“Twenty-five is hard,” Hunter said, patting Lincoln’s leg and using it to leverage himself up from the couch. “I’m going to get a drink.”
Lincoln and I both watched until Hunter was safe in the kitchen, still within earshot, but out of the direct line of sight; then Lincoln turned to me and jammed his elbow down into my shoulder. Our lips were so treacherously close to each other that it was a kiss without even meaning to be one.
“Does the affection bother Hunter?”
“No.” Lincoln smiled against my mouth.
“Have you talked about it with him?”
“Of course. He knows it’s not…it’s not anything more than it is.”
