Going Inksane (Nice Ink Book 1)

by Trish Edmisten

  “That doesn’t make it okay,” Kiel said.

  “That’s not for you to decide,” I informed them.

  “What happens when he gets a little rough in bed or tries to get you into this whole D/s thing?” Kiel pressed. “Have you thought about that?”

  I shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Roger was nearly shouting.

  “You shouldn’t be,” Kiel added. “You haven’t trusted anyone enough for sex in five years and the first guy you choose is a lying, cheating low life tattoo artist who’s looking to turn you into his sub. This has disaster written all over it.”

  “One,” I said, raising a finger, “Who I choose to have sex with and when is none of your business, no matter what you think. Two,” Another finger came up, “Heath is not a liar or a cheater and he’s definitely not a low life, even if he is a tattoo artist.”

  Kiel opened his mouth to say something, but the deadly look I aimed his way had him snapping his jaw shut.

  I held up another finger. “Three, he’s not looking to make me his sub because he’s not into that sort of thing, and the only reason he said he was is because the man was smart enough to figure out who you were, Key.”

  It was satisfying to see the way their eyes widened before their expressions became wary.

  “I wondered if he was messing with us,” Roger said, and I shook my head at his ballsy statement.

  “We weren’t trying to get in your business,” Kiel said, and I snorted. “Okay, we were, but we weren’t doing it to be assholes. We’re trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection.”

  “You don’t get it, Neddie,” Roger said. “What happened to you was the worst thing I’ve ever been through. And yeah, I know how stupid that sounds when it was ten times worse for you, but seeing you like that, watching how it changed you, it… I can’t explain it. It made me angrier than I’ve ever been, but it broke my heart because, for a long time, it took you away from us and left us with this shell of who you used to be.”

  “I know,” I said softly.

  I had never admitted it to anyone, not even the therapist I’d seen, but I was glad it happened to me instead of one of them. The thought of any of my brothers having to suffer what I did would have torn me apart.

  “You only know what it was like for you,” Kiel said and quickly added, “And we’re not trying to take that from you. You had it worse, but try to think about how it felt for us. Think about how you felt when Derek got shot. Scared that you might lose him or that he might not fully recover, helpless because you couldn’t do anything about it even with all your training and so damn pissed that some asshole would fuck with your brother.”

  “Think about how much it hurt to watch him struggling with his recovery and the fear that he might not be a cop again,” Roger picked up. “Remember that relief you felt watching him slowly get better and get back to the brother you know, all the while knowing you were never going to stop being afraid that next time he might not be so lucky. Take all that and magnify it a hundred times and that’s how it felt when you were hurt.”

  Damn, they didn’t fight fair. It was hard to stay mad at them when they put it all out there like that, especially when they were right.

  The night Derek was rolled into the ER was one of the worst nights of my life. I had taken one look at my big brother, bleeding and pale, sweating and shaking but still trying to keep it together for my sake, and I’d lost my shit. Finishing my shift hadn’t even been a question.

  It wasn’t just Derek’s life I worried about. Every time Kiel went into a fire, some part of me worried he might not make it out, but I always shoved that thought down deep in my soul and tried not to let it see the light of day. And even though being a paramedic wasn’t as dangerous as being a firefighter or a police officer, I still worried about Roger being caught up in a bad scene.

  Thank God Oliver was a writer because between Derek, Kiel and Roger, I had enough to worry about. It was a wonder I didn’t have gray hair yet. I had no idea how our parents handled it either, but it gave me a whole new respect for them. Especially when you considered some of the stuff my brothers had done over the years.

  Not me of course. I was much too sensible to pull half the shit Derek and Kiel and Roger had. Oliver didn’t cause them too much worry either, but that was more because he was always so wrapped up in either reading or writing that he didn’t make time to do much else.

  “We weren’t trying to interfere in your life,” Kiel assured me and grinned when I just stared at him without blinking. “Okay, we were but not because we’re dicks. Because we can’t stand the thought of you being hurt again.”

  “You don’t know that Heath is going to hurt me, but even if you think he is, you don’t get to decide that for me,” I told them. “You have to let me do this, and if it goes horribly wrong and I fall flat on my face, then you have to be there to pick me up and dust me off without saying I told you so.”

  Both of them looked physically pained by the idea. I knew it wasn’t the idea of not getting to say I told you so that worried them but the thought of me being hurt. I knew because I would have felt the same about one of them if the situations were reversed. I liked to think I would have been more reasonable about it though.

  Pretending to be a customer to dig up dirt on someone? Who does that?

  “And,” I said, glaring at them once more. “You have to apologize to Heath, in person.”

  They both groaned.

  “Come on, Neddie,” Roger pleaded.

  “I think he should be the one to apologize to us for fucking with us like that,” Kiel said, and Roger nodded.

  “Seriously?” I demanded. “You ambush the guy at his business, pretend to be a customer and take up time he could have spent with someone who was actually going to pay him and you think he should apologize for not putting up with your shit?”

  That seemed to get through because they traded wary glances.

  “I guess you’re right,” Kiel admitted, and I smiled at how much it probably hurt to say those words.

  “Damn it,” Roger said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “The things we do for you, Neddie.”

  “See, that’s just it. You don’t need to do anything for me, and the next time the urge strikes, I want you to think about this moment.”

  My brothers stared at me, their eyes wide.

  “Dude, you sounded like Mom just now,” Kiel said.

  “Yeah, and it was both scary and gross,” Roger agreed.

  “If you think that’s scary and gross, you should have been in the ER last week when the guy with the Ben-Wa balls lodged in his ass came in,” I said. When they just gaped at me, I added, “He thought they’d be a good substitute for anal beads.”

  At their horrified looks, I burst into laughter. Served them right for sticking their noses in my love life, no matter how noble their intentions were.

  Despite the rocky start to the evening, Kiel and Roger stuck around for a couple of hours to shoot the shit before I kicked them out. As much as I loved spending time with my brothers, when they weren’t butting into my business, I did have to be up at five in the morning.

  When I climbed into bed, I sent a text message to Heath to apologize for what Roger and Kiel had done and to assure him I’d set my brothers straight on the error of their ways. I was about to set my phone aside when his reply came.

  Heath: Thanks, but you don’t have to apologize for anything your brothers do. Besides, it was kind of funny.

  I’m just glad you’re being so cool about it. I’d hate for their dumb asses to scare you off.

  Heath: Nothing could scare me off, Ned.

  I knew the words were supposed to be comforting, but they brought a lump to my throat. The only reason he could say that was because he didn’t know the truth about me. When he did, it was going to be a deal breaker. Part of me wanted to keep him in the dark and ride this out as long a
s I could, but that wasn’t fair to him. I needed to tell him the truth.

  Even if he did walk away, which I was pretty sure he would, at least he had shown me one thing. I may have been broken, but I wasn’t beyond repair.

  My phone chimed with another message, startling me from my thoughts. I know you have to work in the morning so I won’t keep you up, but I’ll be thinking about you.

  Smiling, I typed back: I’ll be thinking about you too.

  I plugged my phone into the charger and then double checked that my alarm was set before I settled under the covers. With any luck, my brain would shut off and let me get a solid night of sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heath

  Remembering how much Ned liked the flowers I bought him at the Farmer’s Market, I stopped at the florist on the way to his place. It was a little pricier than picking up a generic bunch from the grocery store, but Ned was worth every penny. He deserved something special, something not everyone had.

  I smiled when I parked in front of Ned’s house. When he’d first mentioned living in a home instead of an apartment, I’d been impressed. Seeing it now, I was even more impressed.

  The single story cottage home suited him. It was cream colored with blue trim and matching blue shutters on the front windows. There was also a small porch off to one side. A flagstone pathway led from the street to the front door.

  Grabbing the flowers from where they sat on the passenger seat, I emerged from the truck. Though I set the alarm, I didn’t expect any problems. This looked like a decent neighborhood. It was bright and welcoming, like Ned himself.

  I rang the bell and then laughed when I realized it was playing My House by Flo’Rida. Like the home itself, that was a perfect reflection of Ned’s personality.

  When the door opened, and he greeted me with a smile, I nearly swallowed my tongue. God, he was gorgeous in his skinny jeans and a short sleeved button down. I wasn’t surprised that his flip-flops matched his shirt. In the short amount of time we had spent together, I’d noticed he loved coordinating his shoes to his clothes.

  “You look great,” I said. “How are you?”

  Ned gave me a shy smile. “I’m good, really glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad to be here.” I held the flowers in his direction. “These are for you.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, though he was beaming as he reached for them.

  “Sure I did. You deserve the best.”

  “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

  I contemplated saying they weren’t as beautiful as him, because it was true, but I didn’t want to come across as too cheesy.

  “Come on in,” Ned said, stepping back.

  When I entered the house, my right shoulder and bicep brushed against his chest. The sharp intake of his breath had me biting back a smile.

  The inside of Ned’s house was even more impressive than the outside. Thanks to the open floor plan, I could see the living room, kitchen and dining area from where I stood. The living room was directly in front of me while the kitchen and attached dining area were to my right. There was a hallway ahead of me with a closed door at the end and two open doors on either side.

  The walls were painted a delicate blue that made the white window trim and white kitchen cabinets pop. There was a tan microfiber couch and matching love seat in the living room and a dark brown coffee table sat in the middle, all of which were on top of a large tan area rug. An end table between the couch and love seat held a lamp and several framed pictures.

  A large flat screen television hung on the wall opposite the living room couch. Beneath that, the entertainment center held various electronics including a DVD player and Play Station. The media shelves on either side of the entertainment center housed several movies and CDs.

  The floors were a chestnut colored hardwood that stretched through the entire house, at least what I could see of it, and were a perfect match to the countertop of the kitchen island. Two wrought iron bar stools sat in front of the island. All of the appliances were a sensible stainless steel that looked to be in pristine condition.

  The dining room table and chairs matched the wood of the coffee table and was big enough to seat six people. It wouldn’t have surprised me at all if Ned’s place was where his brothers liked to gather for dinner.

  Ned’s house definitely put my apartment to shame. Rather than being off putting, I was warmed by the idea of the two of us sharing this space. Yeah, that was jumping the gun a little, but I was too old to play games. I wanted Ned, not just in my bed but in my life. Hopefully, he felt the same way. If not now, then maybe someday soon.

  “Your place is gorgeous,” I said as he closed and locked the door.

  “Thanks, dinner’s almost ready if you want to grab a seat at the island. I’ll just get these in some water.”

  Following Ned to the kitchen, I lamented the fact that his shirt was too long to let me see that perfect ass.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Not right now, thanks.”

  “Okay, then, get comfy. I’ll just be a minute.”

  While Ned moved around the kitchen, I took a seat on one of the bar stools.

  Once he found a vase, he filled it with water and then set about arranging the flowers. When he was satisfied, he placed the vase in the middle of the kitchen island, smiling as he fluffed the flowers. That made me smile too.

  Looking up and realizing I was watching made him blush, and I’m not ashamed to admit I loved being able to pull that reaction from him.

  “Dinner should be ready shortly,” Ned said.

  “I can’t wait. It smells amazing.”

  “Thanks, it’s just spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “I love spaghetti and meatballs.”

  I did too. I wasn’t a picky eater, never had been. Growing up poor, you learned to appreciate food, even when it was something others wouldn’t eat.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered.

  “Everything else is ready. I just need to put the bread in the oven, but it won’t take long to bake.”

  Ned turned and grabbed a loaf of French bread from the counter behind him. Setting it aside, he moved a cutting board onto the island before pulling a bread knife from the butcher block.

  “So, how’s work been?” Ned asked as he sliced the bread in half.

  “It’s been good, lots of people getting tattooed.”

  “And it’s okay that you’re missing work today?”

  “Sure it is.” I grinned at him. “I own the shop.”

  “I just hate the thought of you missing out on making money just to have dinner with me.”

  I frowned at that. Someone must have really done a number on him if he thought he wasn’t worth having dinner with.

  “I’d much rather do anything with you than work, but you don’t have to worry,” I assured him. “Even though the shop’s open seven days a week, we set our own hours and take time off when we need it. That’s one of the great things about owning the business.”

  “That’s nice. I don’t get that luxury in the ER.”

  “But you love your job.”

  “I do. I love helping people, and it’s never the same thing. Not the people anyway. There are a lot of the same injuries, broken bones and food poisoning and stuff like that, but it’s the people that are different.”

  “I get what you mean. It’s the same with tattooing. I might do a lot of tattoos, but each one has a different meaning to the person getting it.”

  When Ned poured the contents of a bottle into a small glass bowl, I recognized it as the olive oil we’d bought at the Farmer’s Market. Even though he’d said he would make it for me, I was still thrilled to see him using it.

  After using a silicone brush to slather the oil across each half of the bread, he sprinkled fresh parsley over it, and I shook my head. If this meal tasted half as good as it looked, I was in for a treat.

  It made me wonder if there
was anything he couldn’t do.

  Ned opened the oven and shoved the bread inside. While that baked, he took two plates from one of the cabinets and loaded both with the spaghetti and meatballs that sat in pots on the stovetop. As soon as those were on the table, he took the bread from the oven, and I marveled at its golden brown crust while salivating over the aroma. After slicing the bread, he placed it in a ceramic bowl that he set on the table between our plates.

  “What can I get you to drink?” Ned asked. “I’ve got both red and white wine.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not much of a wine drinker,” I admitted.

  “I guess that means I shouldn’t expect our next date to be a tour of a winery,” Ned said and then blushed. “Not that I expect it or anything. I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant, and if you want to go on a tour of a winery, I’ll take you.”

  “Even though you don’t like wine?”

  “You do, and that’s all that matters.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just think about what winery you want to see and let me know when you’re ready.”

  Ned gave me a wide-eyed look of wonder before he seemed to snap out of it. “Okay, well, if you don’t want wine I’ve got water, tea, orange juice and root beer.”

  The root beer revelation made me smile. That was just too cute.

  “Water is fine.”

  “Great, go ahead and have a seat at the table and I’ll get that.”

  “Does it matter where I sit?”

  “Nope, they’re both the same.”

  While Ned got drinks, I took a seat at the dining room table. Instead of putting either of the plates at the head of the table, he had placed both on opposite sides as if he thought they would be too far away otherwise.

  I was just sitting down when he set a glass of iced water in front of me. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ned said and then took his seat.

  “This looks really good.”

  “Let’s hope it tastes good.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  Of course I was right. The pasta was tender and the sauce robust and I could taste Italian sausage in the meatballs. That bread though. It stole the show. Ned hadn’t been kidding about how good the olive oil would taste on it, and I was glad I’d bought it for him.