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However, this morning, waking up alone, which she’d done the majority of her time living there, made her apartment feel empty. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen. The bathroom was empty.

The silence weighed down on her. Which made her want to flee her apartment. The comfort had left with Kid. How was she supposed to live there by herself after eight months of having him there?

That would be a hurdle she’d have to cross when he told her, in no uncertain terms, that he had no intention of returning. With that closure, she could figure out a new path forward. Living in this land of confusion.

Therapy had taught her that the only way to get answers was to talk.

Bells chimed as the door to the tattoo studio opened. A happy man with a green mohawk, wearing a ripped acid-wash vest covered in black-and-white patches he’d pinned to it, exited with a bandage on his forearm. Noticing her, the freshly inked man held the door.

“You going in?” he asked.

Might as well get this conversation over with.

“Yeah.” She threw on a brave face. “Thanks.” Walking past him, she entered the tattoo studio with her heart hammering against her ribs.

Hoping for the best and fearing the worst, she scanned the colorful shop for the man who had slept on her couch and protected her.

19

Kid

Tyler had sat like a fucking rock. Kid couldn’t have been more grateful to his brothers for referring the guy for a tattoo. There was a lot of open skin begging for ink, and Tyler was champing at the bit to fill it. He’d booked four more appointments when they finished this one.

Lingering at the counter, he skimmed through the appointment log with a smile that would never leave his face as two tattoo machines buzzed behind him. In their stations, the people he had invited for guest star appearances chatted with their clients. He bopped his head along to Sleep Token singing “Caramel” and basked in having two days of a jam-packed studio.

Would their popularity last? Probably not. He anticipated plenty of slow days ahead of him. When the guest artists left and the hype withered, he was certain that he’d spend more days doodling than he did actually tattooing people.

That was a problem for another day.

Today, in this moment, Kid was a success. No one could take that away from him. He’d achieved his dream. Not many people could say that.

“Hey.” He froze at a low and hesitant greeting.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes and confirmed he’d heard her.

His latest visitor stood there, wearing black leggings with a cute matching T-shirt that hugged her body and exposed a slight line of her midriff—Carrie. The feel of their kiss lingered on his lips. The memory of her soft flesh made his hands tingle—either that or it was left over from the vibration of his tattoo machine.

“Hey,” he echoed.

Running a hand up and down her arm, she glanced about nervously. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” he said, studying her.

She rocked from the balls of her feet to her heels. “You look busy.”

When she met his eyes again, his cock recalled her topless body the night before and immediately diverted his blood flow. “Yeah,” he croaked.

She bit her lips together into a thin line, and all his attention went there. Releasing them, she slid them back and forth, and dirty thoughts he had no business having danced in his brain. His dick continued to swell at the idea of her mouth around it.

He purposely blinked to distract himself. Focusing on something else would be better. With how the previous evening went, the last thing he should be doing was thinking about her like that.

“Can we talk?” she asked with a slight frown.

There were no more dreaded words ever spoken in the English language than those in that order.

“Of course,” he agreed, stepping away from the counter. “Did you want to go to the coffee shop?” He gestured toward the door, indicating the place at the other end of the strip mall.

“Can’t.” She shook her head. “They closed an hour and a half ago.”