Seeing Kit wouldn’t destroy her, but it wasn’t going to be the meeting of her dreams. She was too old for that sort of thing, anyway.
* * * *
Kit pulled out his phone, glancing through the notifications, but nothing could hold his attention. He’d thought about this moment so many times, and it never once played out as it had in reality.
In his mind, he’d always pictured running into Renee at some tattoo convention. He’d have his station set up and probably be working on a client, then he’d glance up, the crowd would part and she’d be there. At a booth down the aisle, her hair pulled up into that ridiculous topknot while she did things with ink and needles he couldn’t hope to ever imitate. They’d be equals, catch up over a few beers, and later, when they were alone, he’d…fuck, Kit didn’t know what he’d do, or if she was even still into the stuff that had gotten them off back then. They’d been young and stupid in the beginning, but it hadn’t changed how she made him feel.
When Renee looked at him, he owned the world. There’d been no better feeling than her unguarded smile and a laugh. It was a side of her she rarely showed the rest of the world. To the other artists and their friends, she’d been so tough. But with him, she’d shown a softer side.
Had she ever figured out he’d lied about his age? She’d been twenty-one, an apprentice for three years and he’d just gotten out of high school. Renee was so fucking cool he’d just wanted her to look at him. And she had.
The glass door to the clinic opened and Renee stepped out. She had sunglasses on now, but he felt her gaze regardless. He stood, not sure what to say next.
“It’s good to see you,” she said. Both hands were clasped on the carrier’s handle.
“Yeah.”
That was it? Nice to see you?
“I don’t have much longer on my lunch break, and I still have to get Peaches home. Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Well, would you like to grab some burgers and go back to my place? I mean, I’m guessing you weren’t staking out my vet clinic just to say hey, or anything.”
“Yeah, no, that would be great.”
“Okay, well, that’s my car, if you want to follow me.” She pointed at a sporty little hatchback.
“I’m in that silver rental.” He gestured at a Jeep sitting adjacent to her car. Could he be any less awkward talking to her again? It was like he was eighteen and his balls hadn’t yet dropped.
“Cool. See you there.” She backed up a few steps and spun, taking Peaches with her.
Shit. He hadn’t even asked why she needed to go to the vet so often or how their cat was doing. Well, her cat. He’d skipped out on that responsibility years ago.
Kit strode across the parking lot to his truck and got in. So their first meeting wasn’t what he’d wanted it to be. He could still turn it around. Of all the people in Baton Rouge, the only one who mattered to him was Renee, and it was his own, stupid fault he’d screwed that up. Well, it was time to make it right. Even if all they could ever be was friends, he’d be happy. Or pretend to be at least.
He knew snippets of her life. For a while he’d stalked her Facebook account when he realized she had one, and wrestled with whether or not he should send a friend request. He owed her an apology, not a social media notification, so he’d never made that step. He’d never even come back to Louisiana.
They went through a fast food drive-through before he followed her into an older subdivision, with homes dating back to the 1950’s. It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but there were streetlights every so often and the lawns were well kept. She turned into the drive of a little red brick house and cut the engine. He parked on the street and sat there for a moment.
Renee jogged around her car, waving at him. He’d never expected to see her dressed so… normal. She wore khakis and a polo uniform shirt for the Baton Rouge Police Department. Uncle Mick said she’d gotten a steady job working as an evidence clerk and ran a tight ship. All the cops liked her attention to detail. That same ability was what had made her such a great artist. He’d never seen another person tattoo hair or fur the way she had, captured as if in constant movement. For all his hours of study, he just didn’t have the knack she did.
Kit was used to seeing her wear jeans that had more holes than denim and ripped up bad t-shirts. She’d been rock-and-roll and sass back then. Somewhere along the way she’d grown up. Did she still remember him the same way he thought about her?
Perhaps she would always hold a certain mystique for him. She’d taken so many of his firsts. Hell, he would never have dabbled in BDSM if it hadn’t been for her. Something about the way they were together. There was nothing they couldn’t try, no boundaries they weren’t afraid to test. Back then it had all been exploration into what made them feel good. It wasn’t until he’d left that he realized their sexual interests weren’t exactly traditional. He probably would have gone through his life thinking there was something wrong with himself if it wasn’t for her.
He gathered his food and trudged toward the door. Maybe seeing her again was a bad idea, but he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by.
The front door stood slightly ajar. He rapped on it with his knuckles and stepped in.
“In the kitchen,” she called out.
Though the outside of the house was about as typical as a person could get for an established community of older homes, the inside burst with color and everything he remembered of Renee. The furniture was a collection of antique pieces, refurbished in bright colors or dark espresso. On the wall were paintings and framed drawings he recognized as her hand, but the style was different. Three walls were painted a dark purple, while the fourth was covered in a silver and purple chevron pattern. There wasn’t a piece of tattoo flash or anything remotely of that world in the space.
He did pause and stare at a painting of a bouquet of wildflowers sitting on a windowsill he recognized. It was one of many he’d given her. The picture tugged at his heart. Could she remember their past as fondly—okay, as obsessively—as he did? Besides the flowers, there was no other memory of the shop in the space.
She’d really left it all behind. He hadn’t believed it when Mick told him, but seeing it for himself was a shock. Their lives had revolved around tracing flash art and the chance to hold a tattoo machine.
Kit followed the sound of her muttering into a small kitchen. She was bent over, stroking the back of an orange striped tabby, her ass up in the air. He had the urge to spank her, as he once had, but that was no longer his privilege.
“Is that Peaches?” He set his things on the counter and edged closer, going to a knee so he could make the first apology to the feline he’d helped save.
“Yup, he’s feeling better now.”
Kit offered Peaches his hand. The cat sniffed it and regarded Kit for a moment as if he wasn’t sure whether he was interested in Kit or not. After a moment, he seemed to pass the test and Peaches head-butted his hand.
“Hey guy.” Kit stroked his soft fur. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Diabetes. It’s bad, but so long as he gets his medicine and doesn’t bite me, he’ll be fine. Isn’t that right?” She scratched the cat under his chin and his back arched.
“Cats can get diabetes?” That was news to him.
“Uh, yeah. Believe me, I was shocked when Joe told me, too.”
“Joe?”
“My vet.”
Joe, a man she had a standing appointment with every week, according to Mick. Why was Kit jealous of a man who was probably old and balding? Because he got to see Renee every week and Kit didn’t.
“Let’s eat before I have to run.” Renee stood and gestured behind her at a retro red and silver, Formica dining set.
They took their burgers to the eat-in kitchen and settled across from each other. What did he say to her? How did he even begin to find out what her life was like?
Renee folded the wrapper around her burger, careful and precise, just as he remembered. S
he glanced up at him and smiled. There was an edge to her that was gone; she was almost...softer, friendlier.
“I have a confession to make,” she announced.
“Oh?”
“I totally watch Tattoo King.” She smiled and took a bite of her burger.
He laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m still surprised they let me on.”
“What? You’re talented. Of course they wanted you.”
“Man, if talent was all it took.” He shook his head. “They wanted personalities, people who’d cause fights, cry and make a scene.”
“Oh yeah? And you don’t do any of that stuff now, do you?” She rolled her eyes.
“Okay, so I’m guilty of fighting. But Bro-P started it.” He jabbed his finger at her. The guy had gotten on his last nerve and he’d just snapped. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but it wasn’t the worst fight they’d had that season.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Giving him that foot tattoo had nothing to do with it.”
“I was playing the game!” During the first portion of every show they got to go head to head in a miniature skill challenge that wasn’t always tattoo focused. The winner often got some perk—the most coveted of which was the ability to choose the client and artist match-up.
“You were, and you played to win.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He grinned. Sure, he hadn’t liked butting heads with Bro-P or the other outspoken cast members, but he’d played to the best of his ability—and this time, he won. “I think you could have beaten me.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t tattooed in years; no way.”
Hearing her say it was still a shock to his system.
It was true. Mick hadn’t spun him a tale. She really had quit.
“What’s up with that?” he asked.
Renee shrugged and her gaze went over his shoulder, her inner light dimmed a bit. “I just got tired of it. It was rough, being the only girl in a shop, and getting all the crappy jobs. For a while I was living in my car, doing apprentice tattoos for free, working sixty hours—and for what? So a bunch of guys could make fun of me, call me names and get a free maid?”
“Why didn’t you go to another shop?” He’d always been aware that she got the bulk of the crap jobs, and it hadn’t set well with him. Which was why he’d stayed late so often to help out when he didn’t have to. He hadn’t set out with the intention of seducing her, but all those hours spent scrubbing the floors had set the foundation for a relationship that would rock his world.
“I did, and the guys there let me tattoo, but they really just wanted to fuck me. So I went to another shop, and they heard crap about me from Lucky Tiger so it wasn’t any better.” She sighed. “It was never ending.”
He stared at her, possibly one of the most talented artists he’d ever known—since traveling all over the states, he’d met a lot of them—and she didn’t even tattoo anymore.
“Why didn’t you go somewhere else? Out of Baton Rouge? It’s the south. People have fucked up ideas of what women should do anyway. You could have come to Cali.” Why had he left her? He should have waited and taken her with him.
“Dad got sick and Remy moved to New Orleans finally. We made that agreement after he showed up at the club with that twiggy girl. Remember her?”
Kit clapped his hand over his mouth. Remember it? As if it were yesterday. He’d been stripping Renee down to her panties at the BDSM club, ready to play with his first flogger. She’d yelped and grabbed her clothes, hiding behind him as he realized just what was happening.
“Anyway, so we made this deal that he could live in New Orleans and I’d live here, happily in our own cities, away from each other.” She sighed. “Remy finally grew up. He’s a bounty hunter now.”
“What?” He remembered Remy as a troublemaker and all-round screw up.
“Yeah, I mean, he’s really got it together. I worried about him for a while...after…” She made a hand gesture he couldn’t interpret.
“After?”
Renee opened and closed her mouth. “After mom and dad died.”
Kit stared, shocked, rolling her words through his head. She’d had the cool parents, the ones who treated them as adults and didn’t mind the tattoos or the different paths their lives had taken. They hadn’t batted an eyelash or asked questions when he came over at odd hours. Her mother had made up the couch and her dad welcomed him onto the porch where they’d stare at the stars, listening to Renee and her mother talking. He’d wanted that, to be part of a family who loved each other. Unlike his own who just liked to fight all the time.
“I…didn’t know. I’m sorry,” he said, though it sounded lame.
“It’s okay. It happened a while back.”
“How…?”
“Dad started having seizures. Mom got a bad cold and didn’t feel like driving herself to the doctor. I was working a tattoo shop, a fast food place and part time at a little pet store, so she didn’t want to bother me. Dad had a seizure on the highway, lost control. It was bad, but it was also just them in the accident.” She told the story in simple words, but it was evident it still saddened her. “That was when I decided to give up the dream. I was so busy I couldn’t be there for the only family I had. Besides, Remy needed me after that, and we had to settle a lot of stuff.”
“I’m so sorry.” And where had he been? Surfing the coast of California? Strolling through New York? Gambling in Las Vegas? He was a tool for leaving her behind.
“It’s not your fault. Is it?”
“No, but I could have been there for you.”
“No, you couldn’t. You had a great career going for you.”
“It should have been yours.” He set the burger down, no longer hungry.
Renee shrugged. “Things happen for a reason. What reason? I don’t know, but a reason.”
“You were always better than me. If fucking Drew had shown off your book instead of mine—I bet it would be me here instead of you.” A couple of visiting artists had hung out at Lucky Tiger for a week, and as chance would have it, Renee and Kit hit it off with them—but she’d had a trip that weekend they left. And when the artists offered Kit a ride to California, he’d gone.
“You needed out more than I did. Besides, a couple years later, I would have been right back here after mom and dad died. Remy needed a lot of looking after. He didn’t grow up as fast as I did.”
There was no denying that going to California had been about getting away just as much as it had been about the opportunity to tattoo. If only he had begged them to take Renee, too.
“How is Remy? You said he’s a bounty hunter? What the heck?”
“Yeah, can you believe it?” She laughed and damn it if it didn’t make him want to reach over and pull her hair. For some reason he’d always done it and she’d laugh harder. “After mom and dad died it was rough for about a year. He’d been back in New Orleans for a month or two, came home and just fell to pieces. It was really bad. He was still a kid. It took him so long to grow up, where I’d only ever wanted to be an adult. So, I stopped tattooing and got a job at the clinic Joe worked at before opening up his own office, but it didn’t really work out. I seriously lucked into the job at the PD.”
Kit could all too well imagine Renee dropping everything to take care of her brother and hold it together. She was the kind of solid rock people needed in their lives. Hell, he’d leaned on her enough times that he knew how strong she could be.
“Yeah, tell me about that. How’d it happen?”
She sighed and folded the empty burger wrapper. “Mick.”
“What?” He stared at her. His uncle? Do something good?
“You were gone, your parents had just split and one Thanksgiving he just—showed up. Remy was in town with a few friends and Mick was drunk. We let him come in, but it freaked Remy out. He wasn’t a bounty hunter yet, though that happened not long after. Mick spent the whole day with us, sobered up, come Monday he came back to apologize and said there was a job at th
e precinct if I wanted something to get me out of the clinic.”
Kit stared at her in disbelief. His uncle? Crashing a twenty-something’s holiday and hanging out? What kind of train wreck had that been?
“Wow, I’m sorry.”
“Nah, he needed someone. It was awkward as hell, don’t get me wrong, but we got through it.”
“What’s going on with him?”
Renee stared at him. “You mean you don’t know?”
“All I know is that I got a phone call from him saying he was in hospice and really wanted to make things right. I wasn’t going to come.” Kit leaned back and blew out a breath. “I’ve cut off all contact with my family, did you know that?”
“No, but it makes sense. They were never very good to you.”
That was an understatement. His grandfather had created two sons who were harsh, uncaring and cruel. His mother was a product of her environment. He’d been honestly surprised when his parents divorced. Part of the reason they stayed together seemed to be their love of fighting. It had been his personal hell to listen to them. When he got older they sucked him into the toxic back and forth, fighting against him as often as they manipulated him into their feuds.
“He has bone cancer. I’m pretty sure the Thanksgiving he spent with us was after he got the diagnosis on his first cancer.”
“Wait—two cancers?”
“Yeah. He told me about it that Monday when he came by, and I guess I felt bad for him, because I’d invite him over sometimes to eat, and then it just became this normal thing. He’s changed. You wouldn’t know him anymore.”
“I never really knew him.” Like his father, Mick had an abrasive personality, and Kit had wanted nothing to do with him. His father had warred with Mick over God only knew what, and a few times Kit had been in the way of their arguing. The bruises went away, but it went deeper than that.
“I got that. He doesn’t expect anything from you, you know that? He just wants to apologize and see you. He knows it’s terminal.”
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