“No cameras back there,” he grunts. “And it seemed personal. I don’t know why the hell someone would want to do this to me, but I also don’t need anyone sticking their nose in my business.”
I can’t tell how clear his thinking is, especially on pain pills so soon after that attack. But I also understand that going to the authorities for help hasn’t really worked out for most of his life. I’m not going to push, especially not when he’s just out of the hospital, but I hope he doesn’t try to leave this all behind like it never happened.
I rub his calf, trying to offer more comfort, but it feels like there’s a gulf between us, a difference that I don’t know how to overcome.
Now that we’ve found each other, I can’t imagine living without Stone. But sitting there in the quiet apartment, his world seems so strange and frightening. I’m sure I’ll never be able to understand it.
He raises his hand weakly. “Final diagnosis is three broken fingers. I won’t be able to work on your tattoo for a while,” he says. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh,” I breathe. Somehow, I haven’t even thought about this. He didn’t just suffer a horrible, traumatic injury.
Stone can’t work anymore. Hell, he can’t create his art.
This time, I lean forward. I try to push through the divide between us and find him. Stone leans up to meet me, and I brush a kiss across his soft lips, just as tender as I remember them.
My heart tears open as I think of all he’s been through. Shaking, I pull back again and force myself to hold his eye. “That’s no problem, Stone. We’ll just finish the tattoo when you’re all healed.”
He grunts with a nod. His eyes are watery and distant. I know it’s probably the medicine, mixing with the pain, but it still hurts me to see those clouds between us.
It hurts like hell to feel so far away.
“Do you have an estimate for the recovery time?”
“I’ll get the braces off in three weeks or so, but it will take a lot longer to regain full use.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “It does.”
For a few minutes, we sit there quietly while Stone eats. I want to curl up beside him and stroke his cheek. I want to make him promises, tell him that I’ll always be by his side.
But I don’t. I just sit there, worried it will always be like this now.
That the good feeling I get when I’m with Stone can’t possibly overpower the fear.
Maybe the bad guys really did win, years after I left my hometown and never saw them again.
When I glance to Stone, I realize he’s passed out. The half-eaten sandwich is on his belly, and his head is rolled back. I carefully remove the sandwich and watch him for a minute, his breath steady and even, then catching as he winces in pain.
If only I were stronger.
I stand and gently pull his legs back out, inching him into a more comfortable position. After cleaning up a little, I find a blanket in the bedroom and drape it over his body. Soft snores escape as Stone curls into the warmth, deep in sleep.
Tears leak down my cheeks, and my heart weighs heavy with the truth that I’m not going to stay.
I place a glass of water by his side, and finally, I leave.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
STONE
Billieand I sit up front at Blade. The shop is just getting started for the day, and the first appointments are wandering in, excited for the work they’re about to get done.
Just last week I was sitting back in her studio, impressing a god among tattoo artists while I worked on the man that I love. Now, though, that high point seems like it was a million years ago.
I hold my hand out for Billie to inspect, and she gingerly takes it by the wrist. “I can hook you up with a good physical therapist, if you don’t have one yet,” she offers.
My hand throbs when I try to wiggle my fingers. “I’ll take any help I can get,” I grumble.
