I can’t fall anymore. It hurts too much. “I’m done.”
“This good?” He holds up an absolutely astonishing rendition of my thoughts.
The word ‘Falling’ drops and black shadows reach up to swallow the letters, but they stand there, not ready to fall. It’s exactly how I feel. “That’s perfect, Break. Thank you.”
“Take your shirt off and lie down with your right shoulder to the light. I’ll get the needles and ink.” He pushes away and leaves the room.
I take my shirt off and do as he says, lying on my stomach. When he comes in he takes a seat and swings his chair around to me, getting things ready.
Suddenly his warm hands smooth something down on my shoulder. “Check it out. Is the placement right?”
I peek over my shoulder at a mirror and eye where the tattoo will be. “I love it.”
“Good.” He pats my lower back. “Lie down. This is going to hurt. There’s no way around it. Be still. Don’t jerk or breathe hard or I might mess up. If it hurts too much, let me know and I’ll stop. Got it?”
“Got it.” I can’t stand pain. I lay with my head on my hands.
“So who is he?” he asks as a buzzing starts up.
I hiss when the needle touches my skin, biting my lip and refraining from moving. “Who?”
“Who else do girls get tattoos for?”
“I’m see-through, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re falling. We’ve all fallen, or will fall. Hell, I’m kind of falling for you.”
“You’re the only one,” I reply bitterly.
He chuckles. “Show him your tattoo. If he’s a real man it’ll turn him on.”
“The whole point is never seeing him again.”
“Is that the point or the game?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply. “You women love to play games. Wind us up and watch us go. And then when we go, you get mad. You can’t hold that against us.”
We’re quiet for some time. I bite my lip when he starts filling the tattoo in. As I lie there going through this pain, I blame Kent for every single ache. I want to show him, look, you’re killing me too.
When Break is done with my tattoo I scrutinize it in the mirror. The word ‘Falling’ slowly cascades in elegant pink letters that curl in on themselves across my right shoulder blade. Dark swathes of shadows reach up to devour it, but the word hangs in the balance, not completely ready to give in.
“Don’t you like it?” Break asks, eyeing my glossy eyes.
“I love it.”
“Hang out with me.” He pauses in the middle of putting away his gear and looks at my body in the mirror. I’m standing in my shorts, bra, and wedges. I’ve never been this naked in front of another man except for Kent. I don’t feel that buzzing attraction at all. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“We’re not having sex.”
He smiles. “Challenge accepted.”
“I mean it.”
“Uh-huh.”
I laugh despite myself. “Whatever. You’ll see when you’re begging for it.”
“I don’t have to beg, baby. You’ll do enough begging for both of us.” He gives me a naughty smile. “Come let me put some ointment on it. You might want to wear a tank top. I can get one from the back.”
“Sure.”
He ducks out of the room and returns with a black tank top. He holds it out and I carefully fit my body inside so it doesn’t touch my tattoo. He turns me around and then rubs some ointment on it. “You should wash this with soap and water for a few days. Don’t scratch it.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I can be your boss.” His breath is on my shoulder.
I pretend it’s Kent’s breath. It makes me shiver. “What’s your first order?”
“You’re going to have a drink with me.”
I’d love one, Kent. I close my eyes so I can’t see his tattoos in the mirror. “And then what?”
“We’re going back to my place.” Kent reaches up to touch my arms.
I lean back against him. It feels so good to touch him again. If feels like we haven’t touched in a painfully long time. My mind and heart stop hurting. “Are we going to try again?”
“Hmm?” he asks, and my fantasy shatters.
Kent’s gone. “Nothing. We can have a drink but we’re not going back to your place.”
“Eh,” he says, laughing uncomfortably. “Sex and a drink’s my final offer.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
He shrugs unapologetically. “I want to have sex with you. Why pretend otherwise?”
I gawk at him. “You’re right. Why pretend? I would never let you touch my body.” I grab my shirt off the end of the table and my purse.
“You’re welcome for the badass tat.”
“Thank you!” I growl and then stomp into the parlor.
“Let me see,” Max says, sitting backwards on a chair with his shirt off while a girl tattoos his spine.
Oh my muscles. He’s got so many muscles they lay on top of each other like boulders. I imagine him in a fight and cringe for his opponent, quickly deciding not to tell him about Break. I may not like the guy, but I don’t want to kill him.
I turn around and show him my shoulder. “Do you like it?”
“It’s sick. Did it hurt?”
I sniff. “I could handle it.”
He nods approvingly. “I’m almost done. Hang out in here. I don’t want you outside.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wise ass,” he mutters, leaning his head down on his arms.
“My ass is kind of wise.” I shake it. “Oh wise ass, can I call a cab? Outlook is good.”
Max stares at me in disbelief. “It totally says sit down and listen to me. After we’re done here we’ll go home. I promise. Is your mind off Kent?”
“Nope.” I sit down and ignore the eyes on me, swirling around in a chair. “Thanks for the tattoo, though.”
“Was Break respectful?”
“A perfect gentlemen,” I lie.
“Hmm,” he grunts. “I won’t kill him, if you’re worried about it.”
I smile ruefully. “What a prick.”
The entire room erupts with laughter. I join in, but the sound of everyone’s pleasure reminds me I’m currently lacking.
When we get back to Max’s place I excuse myself and go to my room. My phone is gone and I know damn well Becca took it with her. I take my clothes off angrily and put on something to sleep in. Sleeping comes only after I stare, unthinking, at the cat in the windowsill. I wake up to Becca’s hair in my face and the smell of drink on her breath. I push her off but she rolls over, snuggling me to her. I let her, because I feel so alone even my common sense can’t keep me company.
The sun shines in through the sheer curtains, burning my eyes. They’re raw from crying. It infuriates me that I can be this affected by another human being. There should be rules for this that prevent men from getting under our skin. It’s one thing for them to get into our hearts and minds, but our skin? They’re everywhere.
I get so annoyed I can’t stand being trapped in Becca’s arms another second. I roughly shove her off and roll over her snoring body. I sink to the floor and check if she’s still sleeping before going into her purse. My phone is on top. It’s off. I take it with me to the living room after a pee break and power it on.
The second my phone is on I am bombarded by text messages. There’s a few from Sam but I delete them without reading them. The rest of the messages are from a number I don’t recognize.
I hope this is your number Rain.
You can trust me.
I need you.
You’re different.
ANSWER ME!
I’m sorry.
Raina baby I’m so sorry.
I didn’t want this.
Your empty room killed me.
You’re killing me. This is the last message I can send to you so I’m going to make it count. I want you to know I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you. Yo
u brought me out of the fog Willow had wrapped around me. You showed me women aren’t all her. Some of you are amazing, sweet, smart-mouthed creatures. Waking up and seeing your room empty was like a knife in my heart. I missed you so badly I felt like you were gone for longer than a night. I can’t stand looking at myself for what I told you last night. And the worst part is you’re going to think it’s true, no matter how many times I tell you isn’t. It isn’t true Rain. You’re different. You’re so different I’ll never be the same. Please don’t let this be the last thing I say to you. I wasn’t done trying.
I can’t breathe. I don’t know how long I sit there breaking.
“Damn it, Raina!” Becca roars.
I look up at her with tears in my eyes. She reaches over and grabs my phone angrily.
“Did you read them all?”
I nod wordlessly.
“We’re changing your number.”
My heart bleeds in my chest. I fall over on the couch and stare at nothing. Max tries to rouse me, but it’s no use. I’m not hungry, I’m not thirsty, and his jokes are unwelcome. Claire offers me advice I don’t want and shots I don’t need. Becca’s constant growling drives me insane. What’s the point? I don’t have a job. Why should I get up, talk, or leave the house? I switch from the couch to the bed, exchanging one for the other. The tabby follows me, keeping me company for weeks, or months, I’m not sure.
I crash to the ground amid the ashes on my own.
“You grab her feet and I’ll grab her arms.” Becca starts to come for me.
Max comes up behind her and together they wrestle me into the shower. “I got the rest,” Becca huffs, turning on the water as Max backs out of the room. She takes my clothes off and squeezes rose soap all over my body. She gets it in my eyes but I barely feel the sting. She turns the water off and wraps my naked body in a towel. “Cool tat,” she compliments. “We’re going out today to go get some sunshine. Get your pale ass out of the house.”
It takes some time but she finally convinces me with the threat of bodily harm to get dressed.
“I’m almost starting to think you’re better off with him,” she says, frustrated with me. She trips over a bag in the middle of the room and curses. “You know what? You and Max are going to go get your furniture today. If I have to live out of garbage bags another day I’m going to lose my mind.”
“I can do it now,” Max offers, poking his head in. “I have to work all night.”
“Is that okay with you?” she asks me, pushing my wet hair away from my face.
I nod.
“Get your furniture and leave. Max, don’t let her go in there alone. Kent should be at school, but his other roommate James is just as attached.”
“I don’t have a key.” I stare at my feet.
“I wasn’t always a stand-up guy,” Max reveals. “I can get in.”
“Go and then we’ll have lunch.” She shoos me away, giving Max a stern look.
He nods and gently takes my arm in his grip, leading me out of the house. The drive to the apartment is quiet except for when I give directions. When we get there I search for James’s truck. It isn’t there. I sigh in relief. My heart is in my throat when we take the stairs. The front windows are open and I can hear football playing on the TV. This is wrong. This isn’t supposed to be happening.
Everything inside of me starts to crack.
“Max,” I whisper. “He’s here.” Why isn’t he at school?
“Good. Then I won’t have to risk breaking and entering.”
I start to back away. “I can’t see him.”
“Breathe,” he orders soothingly. “If you want, you can go down to the car. I can do it.”
But it’s too late.
The door opens.
Chapter Ten
Everything inside of me stills. My breath ceases and my head clouds, filling with dread and the desire to see him again. Wanting the thing which causes you pain knowing full well it will cause you more, and wanting it still, is the true definition of insanity.
My wings twitch as Kent steps outside. They want to blaze again, they want the sun. He’s gripping the door handle, as though he plans on closing it because it’s probably no one. Instead of no one it’s me. He drops the handle and his mouth opens slightly and his dark eyes are filled with shock and nothing else.
He looks nothing like the man who answered his door all those weeks before. His hair is dirty and messy in a way I know he didn’t plan and his white shirt is stained with something orange and brown. His eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in red. His pajama pants are ripped at the knees and his beard has grown in. He looks like a filthy, lost caveman.
Memories come back to me. Our first kiss and the taste of his lips. I’ve been falling since I opened the door. How good it felt to be wrapped in his arms as we slept. The way we fell apart the first time we made love. The look in his eyes when I asked if he loved me. I am bombarded by him.
His eyes take me in as well. I imagine the same memories are flooding his brain. I can see them in his eyes, the way they’re glossy, like he’s living every single one all over again.
For the first time in weeks I wonder how I look. My hair is damp from my shower. It’s probably stringy and limp. My black tank top and jeans are loose on my body. They’re probably Becca’s. I am loose and stringy today. I should be sexy and unapologetic. Yet I can’t be bothered. Stringy will have to do.
I grab Max’s arm for support.
Max clears his throat and holds out his hand. “My name is Max. We’re here to get Raina’s furniture. Afterwards we’ll be on our way. Cool?”
Kent tries to see me but Max moves me behind his back. “Rain?” he manages. His voice is hoarse and blocked. He clears it and steps further outside, drawn to me. “Talk to me, Rain.”
The sound of his voice is agonizing.
“Let’s go.” Max gently takes my arm and pulls me into the apartment. He makes sure to put me in front of him so Kent can’t see me. “Show me where your room is.”
Being inside of the apartment is doing damage at an alarming rate. Memories come rushing back to me faster. I can barely walk; they’re so real and heartbreaking. Max picks me up by my waist and I point to my bedroom. Max sets me down and then immediately gets to work, grabbing my mattress without any help.
“Stick with me. Poor guy looks like shit.”
“What do I look like?”
He smiles sadly, blocking me with the mattress. “You’re twins.”
I ignore Kent standing by the door and look at my feet as I help Max get the mattress downstairs and in the back of his 4X4. On our next trip Kent has moved to the couch. I stand there momentarily, stunned. The couch is new. It’s brand new. It’s a large black leather couch. The tags are still on it. I walk toward it and run my hand over the cool, supple leather.
Kent looks up, as numb as I feel, and our eyes finally lock. His pain bleeds out and mixes with mine until we’re both swimming in our loss.
“Come on, Raina,” Max urges. “I need your help with the dresser.”
I can’t stop staring into his beautiful black eyes.
“Rain!” Max snaps.
I flinch and hurry toward him, looking back at Kent, who sits there staring at where I’d been standing. What is he looking at? I numbly help Max with the dresser.
“Don’t look at him,” Max suggests, grunting as we get it through the door and down the stairs. I look at Max and he frowns at me. “We don’t have much left. Guy looks like a freaking ghost.”
“What do I look like?”
His sad smile grows. “Boo.”
We grab the TV next, but I end up losing my grip right near the front door. Kent’s eyes are on me as I bend over to grab it. His gaze is heavy and demanding. I make the mistake of looking at him. I can’t help it.
It’s all over in a matter of seconds. I give up. I drop to my knees and let the ashes have me.
“Raina,” Max groans, trying not to drop the TV.
Without a
word Kent gets up. He shoves the TV out of the door and then slams it shut and locks it along with the top bolt. Then he walks over and closes the front window, locking those too while Max pounds on the door.
Max bellows, pounding with his fists. “Open the door!”
“Don’t open the door, Rain.” Kent’s voice is deep and broken as he extends his arms to me. “Stay here with me.”
It’s such a vulnerable gesture.
I stare at his open arms and then at the door. Kent and Max. Kent and Max. Then I get up and reach for the door.
“Rain,” Kent begs. “Stop. Don’t do it. Think about us.”
“Us?” I whirl around and snap. “What is ‘us’? I’m a mess without you. I can’t eat, or sleep, or do anything but think about you. There can’t be us when I can’t even be me.”
Max stops pounding. “I’ll bring your stuff back. Trust your heart, babe!” he calls, and then I hear his feet on the stairs.
“Who’s that?”
I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself. Kent approaches me but I back away. He looks uncaged; a wild animal who’s staring down his prey. He counters my step back with a step forward. We are just as far apart.
“I can’t even think straight.” He rubs his eyes and then shakes his head, trying to clear it. “I haven’t slept in days. Are you even real?” He reaches for my hand but I yank my arm away. “Am I dreaming, Rain? Are you really in my living room?”
“Becca’s going to come get me.”
“Let her!” he snaps. “Let her come. This time I’m not allowing her to take you.”
“What if I don’t want to stay?”
He rubs his eyes again hectically and then points at me. “Ask me again. Ask me again if I love you.”
“No.” I cover my ears. “Don’t do it.”
“Ask me again!” he shouts, his eyes burning. “Please, baby. Ask me.”
“No.” I drop to my knees and cover my head with my hands. “Kent,” I beg. I am begging him.
“What, baby?” He slowly sinks to his knees and crawls to me. “Can I hug you? I’ve never wanted to hold someone so much in my life. Let me hold you. Let me have you.”
My Sweet Demise (Demise #1) Page 26