Page 55 of Ink

The anxiety of thinking every one of Ink’s friends will be waiting for me to show my face sinks in a little deeper with every step I take down the stairs.

Once again, I’ve worked myself up for no reason because I don’t see a single soul in the living area. I don’t hear anyone either.

“I told you it would be alright,” Ink says from behind me as he rests his hand on my shoulder, steering me toward the kitchen. My eyes narrow, wishing he could see me glaring at him. There’s nothing more annoying than someone rubbing it in your face when they’re right. Ink could tell I wanted to hide away in his room all day and never come out. He once again told me to get over it and that no one here would care. They all want to “fucking kill that motherfucker.”

His words, not mine.

Although I can’t say I would be sad if Zach just happened to up and disappear one day. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the only way I’ll truly ever feel one hundred percent safe and free of that whole situation.

“You hungry?” Ink asks as he opens the fridge. “Evan usually keeps this place pretty stocked.”

“She really takes care of you guys, doesn’t she?”

Ink snorts. “It’s more for Cain than anyone. She’s like that annoying sister I never had. Plus, she likes to eat.”

That sounds nice.

Being an only child as well, I always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. Someone else to go through life with that you know you could trust, no matter what. Anytime I asked my parents why, my dad would snap at me for talking without being spoken to. Looking back now, I think he didn’t want to have to worry about another person to control.

“Looks like there’s some shit left over from the party last night. You eat meat?” Ink asks as he takes out a few burger patties to warm up.

My stomach makes the loudest rumbling noise, answering for me right on cue, making Ink smile. I haven’t had meat in months because I didn’t want to waste the money on it.

Before long, I have a loaded burger and chips in front of me, with Ink pulling out my chair to sit down.

Every time this guy surprises me with manners I didn’t expect, I forget how to act.

“Just ‘cause I’m a biker doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentleman, darlin’.”

Shoot.

I insulted him and that’s the last thing I would want today. If you asked me two days ago, I’d say he deserved it for inserting himself in an area of my life where he had no business being, but now I’m thankful his nosey butt did.

In an instant reaction, my hand reaches out to rest on his forearm, my mind telling me to comfort him, to take away the hurt I just caused. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ink. I mean, I did and I didn’t. I didn’t expect you to do that, but I’m also not used to it, if that makes sense. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He says that, but I can see the hurt still lingering on his face.

“Ink.”

He takes a bite of his food, his attention boring a hole into his plate as he refuses to look at me.

“Ink,” I try again.

He takes another bite. This time, a drop of mustard lands on the corner of his mouth. Before he has a chance to wipe it away with a napkin, I take my thumb and get it all in one sweep. Bringing my thumb to my lips, my tongue darts out, licking it clean. A tiny moan escapes me as I taste the mix of vinegar, spices, and his salty skin.

Ink’s eyes are full of heat as he finally gives me his attention.

“Eat your food, bunny,” Ink rumbles as he rests a hand on my upper thigh.

Who am I to argue after that?

I don’t know what came over me or who this girl is. Old Sutton would have never been caught dead doing that.

Maybe Ink is right. The new hair has brought out a new personality.

“I’m wounded, babe.” A man with shaggy sandy brown hair decked out in a leather cut with the Dirty Devils logo decorating it, Levi jeans, and a chain connecting to his wallet struts into the kitchen, breaking the Ink trance I was in and making me jump. Ink’s hand squeezes my thigh but doesn’t leave it. He has a frown playing on his lips, but his eyes are dancing.