by JC Szot
He really didn’t know a lot about Meg. That only made his guilt harder to ignore. Where did her mother live? Had she been ill, or was her death sudden? Why had he never asked her any questions? Her aroused words resonated in his ears. It’s all about you. But was it? He’d been so consumed by his illness. She’d been so tentative and caring. She made it all about him, and he’d taken everything she’d offered.
Then he went and threw Leslie in her face. I am an asshole. Joe’s haunting words collided with Meg’s. Don’t turn away from the obvious. It’s right in front of you. Zane’s ears hurt. Too many voices rang in them, his confusion a wrenching pain that was sucking the life he’d just struggled to recover out of him.
After an hour of walking and an overcooked hotdog that would’ve sent Meg into a twenty-minute lecture, he trudged home. On his way Zane stopped and bought her an aloe vera plant. He’d give it to her when she returned, hoping he didn’t kill it before then.
* * * *
“I’m not accepting that check, Meg.” Mr. Fenway frowned, waving her payment away. He fussed with his tie and moved around his desk. “We have a new program that assists individuals who are left alone after the death of their next of kin. You qualify.”
Meg stared at the beautiful urn. It was mother-of-pearl, the lid trimmed in silver. She tucked the check back in her purse. Mr. Fenway reached for her hand, his fingers warm.
“Your mother always fed my brother and never took a penny from him, unbeknownst to the owners of the Glenside Diner. I never forgot that.” Mr. Fenway’s brother suffered from mental illness. He’d chosen a life of drinking and had taken to wandering the streets. Her mother never turned him away.
“Thank you, thank you for everything…The urn’s beautiful.”
“You’re welcome, and if there’s anything I can ever do for you, please, just call.” His fingers left hers. Meg clutched the urn to her chest and walked through the red-and-gold-trimmed lobby. A pile of glossy flyers stacked on a table near the coat check caught her eye.
It was a picture of a dandelion bending in the wind, dispersing its seeds into a golden ray of sunshine. Meg tucked the flyer into her purse and left. She made the long drive home. There was no point in paying for a hotel. There was nothing else here for her.
Chapter Seventeen
“We certainly appreciate you coming in.” The nurse secured the third test tube and removed the band from Meg’s upper arm. “Any particular reason?” She smiled.
“I plan on getting a tattoo.” Her words echoed off the cold, sterile walls of the laboratory. “I know I won’t be able to donate for at least a year.” The friendly nurse glanced back at her.
“That’s right.” She nodded. “You’ve done your research well. Usually people don’t discover that until it’s too late.”
Meg couldn’t believe she was going to do this, but it was the only way. She needed the closure. She’d take the only piece of Zane she could have. At least she’d been able to help him, unlike her mother.
She was going to ask Sean to do it. She’d need to plan her strategy carefully. Meg would have to get the tattoo done while Zane wasn’t in the shop. The image of the dandelion was the perfect finish to an ending that Meg had no choice in. The tattoo resembled Zane. How it releases its seeds and is rebirthed, coming back anew, just as he had. The nurse’s soft voice pulled her back out of her reflective state.
“Just remember that it’s forever.” She smiled again.
“I know,” Meg said apprehensively. She really wanted the other forever, but she’d take what she could get. Nora was going to freak out.
* * * *
Meg could see the tall, green stalks from the end of the hall. She shifted her groceries to one hip and bent down to stroke the cool, smooth leaves. A tiny card was nestled between the three thick shoots. She fumbled with her keys and opened the door. After setting her bags on the counter, she went to retrieve that plant. She set it down near the sink and removed the card.
Meg,
I’m sorry for your loss.
Zane
Meg leaned against the counter. How had he found out? Did Nora tell him? Was this a ploy to send her running back? She’d already ended this in her mind. She was so in love with Zane Miller it was pathetic, but she wouldn’t give herself to him again. After the display of his lack of loyalty and respect, she just couldn’t. They hadn’t had a commitment, but she didn’t sleep with just anybody. Did he? Was she one of a slew of women? That thought plummeted her down into a new hole of darkness. What’s done is done.
She needed to avoid him at all costs. She didn’t trust herself. The only man who’d ever satisfied her was hard to refuse, but she needed and wanted more now. There hadn’t been many men, but she knew Zane was it. He excited her. He had made her want to love him. Did he realize that was what he’d done? Her heart had gotten greedy, right along with her libido.
Before her mother had gotten sick and reality had been extracted from her mind, she’d always told Meg, “There’s a fine line between being giving and being a doormat.” Meg was in survivor mode now. The tattoo would have to suffice. She reached for the vibrantly colored card and called The Ink Well. Sean answered on the third ring.
“He’s not here, Meg.” Heavy metal music roared through the line.
“I was looking for you actually.” Her anxious laughter spilled over the line. “I’d like to come in, but…I have to come when Zane’s not there.”
The line went quiet for a moment. “He’s gone for the day. What’s your schedule look like?”
“It’s wide open.” She gripped the picture in her hand.
“Why don’t you head on down.”
* * * *
“Meg.” Sean turned the music down so Pearl Jam was just a faint, whiny drone. She walked through the shop, her head angled, soaking up the decorated walls. “What’s up?” He extended his hand. Her slender fingers tightened around his.
Sean’s eyes took a visual excursion from her radiant eyes down to her feet buckled into a pair of leather Birkenstocks. Her legs were perfection, as if he’d drawn her himself. Unruly curls framed her thin face, resting against her jaw, the strands swept over to the side. They kept falling back over her eyes. Each sweep of her hand had his body in an uproar. She had a gorgeous collarbone. Zane is most certainly an asshole.
“What can I do for you?” He gulped his coffee. It burned down his throat, punishing him for his thoughts.
“I’d like you to do my tattoo.” Her cheeks flooded with a rosy heat. Sean almost choked on his coffee, his eyes bulging. He cleared his throat.
“Excuse me?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know I offered you a discount, but…” He laughed. He noticed the piece of paper she had clutched in her hand. “I take it you have something in mind?” Sean gestured to the glossy paper.
“I do.” She handed the picture to him. Sean could see why she’d chosen the image. It suited her. “Can you do it?” Her voice lowered. His eyes met hers, the green dark like a shaded forest.
“Um…” He dug at his eyes. Zane barged into his conscience. Hell! It was business. “Sure I can. I’ll just need a day or so to sketch out the transfer, and then we’ll be good to go. You’re sure?” She buried her hands into the pockets of a short denim skirt. Her chest rose and fell with each frightened breath. A beautiful pink bloomed through her skin, her breasts a perfect fit to any guy’s palm. Has Zane ever had the pleasure of touching her?
“I am.” Her teeth caught her lower lip. “Will it hurt?” Her cute nose twitched. Sean laughed, patting her shoulder, her body delicately boned.
“The outline is the hardest part of the process. Once I move on to the filler and coloring, it’s a piece of cake.” He felt his face pull into a grin.
She sighed, her brows pulling together. Her determination was endearing. She shrugged. “Okay then, when should I come back?”
“Well.” Sean walked over to the appointment book, leafing through the pages. “If you want
it to just be us?”
“Yes.” Her tiny voice reverberated off the walls.
“That’s no problem, Meg.” Sean saw a block of open time on Friday night. He knew Zane had two medical appointments and wouldn’t be in. She moved closer to him, her scent enveloping him. He jotted down a note, burying her name in the book just in case Zane was to look through his schedule. He asked her to shave the area before she came in. Her hushed voice stroked over him like the artful touch of a woman’s fingers.
“Did Zane do your sleeve?” He connected with her gaze, her eyes wandering over his arm.
“He did.” Sean paused. Something unfavorable coated her face. “Meg.” Sean closed the appointment book. “If you want to wait until Zane gets medical clearance, he can—”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I want you to do it.”
“Consider it done.” He reached for her hand again.
“Oh, the cost.” She dug through her purse. “Do you need a deposit?”
“It’s not a complex tattoo, Meg. We’re talking seventy bucks with the discount.”
“Great.” Her smile returned, seizing Sean’s heart. Zane really is an idiot.
Chapter Eighteen
“I can’t believe you’re going to go through with it.” Nora’s mouth hung open, her face still with shock.
“It’s all I’ll ever have of him. It’s a symbol of my completed mission.” Her throat tightened around her words.
“It’s just so…” Nora paused, her fingers on her chin. “Intense.” Her lips were a tight line.
“I can’t help it. Being with Zane, for me, was intense. I gave blood the other day,” Meg reassured her. Nora smiled.
“Good girl. You know,” she said cautiously, “he was here.”
“When?” Her body stiffened. “He did leave a nice aloe plant on my doormat.”
“The day you went to see to your mother’s arrangements. I did tell him what happened.”
It seemed too little too late. Her mind was set. She’d stay on her path, though it was an emotionally draining one. Meg had dreamt of the tattoo shop, waking up soaked in sweat. Vivid swirls of color whirled around behind her lids. Between Sean’s inked sleeve and the mental resurrection of Zane’s tree of life, her entire night had been one colossal tattoo.
Before leaving, Sean had sat her down at his work station, showing her all the different needles and which ones would be used for certain areas of her tattoo. They had looked at all the tubes of ink, Sean asking what her color preferences were.
Tomorrow night was her appointment. Thank God she hadn’t run into Zane. She missed him, his surly smile and candid talk, his hands on her body, his warm breath in her ear. She hoped his appointment at the doctor’s went well. Though her heart felt trampled, she wished him all the best. When she thought of him, which was most of the time, her stomach curled into a tight fist.
“I hope I’m over him before he finds someone else.”
Nora stopped counting the till, glancing back at her, her eyes startled.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle all the dating traffic, being only a few doors down, you know what I mean?” Meg sighed.
“Oh, honey.” Nora shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
* * * *
Zane sat in Dr. Reed’s office. He tipped his head back, his body slouching in the chair. His eyes wandered across the white ceiling, his mind vacant of any answers. The last time he’d been in here, his life was crumbling around him. His clock had stopped. He’d just about conquered a potentially terminal disease and somehow felt no jubilation. The clock on his wall was ticking, keeping time to the passing hours of each day, but he felt empty, weak, and beaten down. Why? The door opened behind him.
“Zane.” Dr. Reed patted him in the back. Zane stood, his legs burning, folding beneath him. His gut ached, a gnawing, burning hole that was eroding him from the inside out.
“Hey, Doc.” Dr. Reed waved him back down into his chair and sat behind his desk.
“Congratulations.” He beamed. A neat row of teeth gleamed back at Zane. The elation once again didn’t come. Where was it? “This lab work is impeccable.” Dr. Reed skimmed through his chart. “Your cell count is perfect.” Dr. Reed obviously was troubled by Zane’s lack of enthusiasm. He set the chart down and stood, moving around to the front of his desk, leaning on the edge, his brows knitted.
“You’re in perfect health, Zane.”
“I feel like shit,” Zane grumbled.
“Tell me what’s happening.” Dr. Reed crossed his arms in front of his chest. A gray, pinstriped shirt and navy tie peeked out of the flaps of his white lab coat. Zane sank his head into his hands, avoiding his probing eyes. “Does this have anything to do with the tattooing?”
Zane shook his head. “Nah, I’ve accepted that.” He sat up. Dr. Reed’s eyes had him pinned down, demanding answers.
“It’s not a dead issue, Zane. I just think we should wait until your body’s a bit stronger before we expose you to those compounds.”
“My gut hurts all the time. I’m so fucking tired. Why do I feel so empty.”
“Tell me what’s really going on, because there’s nothing wrong with you, medically speaking.”
Zane felt like a schoolboy at the principal’s office. He stood and walked over to the window. The mountains were filling in with plush green growth. Summer was coming, and he was all screwed up. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Dr. Reed’s voice reached through the thick silence.
“Do you feel comfortable with me, Zane?”
“I do, Doc. It’s just that…” He let out an anxious breath. Dr. Reed cleverly filled in the blanks.
“This is a matter of the heart, is it not?” Zane faced him. The guy was cool. Christ, he just saved his fucking life.
Dr. Reed crawled inside his head, his quick assessment making Zane shudder. “We just saved your life, Zane. Make it worth our while.”
“You wanna hear something messed up?” Zane caught his concerned eyes.
“Please.” Dr. Reed smiled.
“While I was sick, I met this girl,” Zane began. “At first I thought she was kooky, with all her health food, vitamins, and ginger cookies.” Zane laughed at the thought of Meg, shaking his head. “I felt like shit. I acted like an ass some of the time, but you know what? She helped me. It didn’t matter what I did or what I said. She was always there.” Zane rubbed his eyes, looking away, concealing the shine that was jabbing through. Remorse wormed through him. Through his entire ordeal, he’d never let loose and bawled. He pinched his eyes shut.
“Are we talking about the young lady who brought you in to the ER?”
“That’s her.” Zane fell back into his chair. His legs were suddenly turning to water. “Her name is Meg.” Zane let her name rest on his lips.
“Nice woman,” Dr. Reed said softly. “Sounds like she’s got you a bit rattled.” Dr. Reed cleared his throat. “I think your sickness has indeed come back.” Zane’s eyes snapped up to his. Dr. Reed raised a hand, halting his rebuttal. “I’m afraid that this sickness you are feeling is in your head and heart. Again, you’re in perfect physical health. I think this sense of completeness that this woman has you feeling, has you petrified. For a man, or anyone for that matter”—Dr. Reed patted his shoulder—“a little love does wonders for your health. I’d give it a try. We only get one life. We just saved yours. Get off your ass and start living it.” Dr. Reed’s hard tone had Zane glancing up at him. Dr. Reed grinned, shaking his head. “You don’t have any use for me anymore. I can’t fix this one for you.” He chuckled dryly. “It’s all about you and her now.”
* * * *
Meg walked into The Ink Well and set her purse up on the shelf above the coat rack. Sean strolled out from behind the counter, a large grin tugging on his lips.
“You ready to roll, Meg?” He rubbed his hands together. Meg laughed nervously, recalling the day they’d first met and how Sean had confessed his urge to ink her virgin skin.
<
br /> “I’m ready.” She swallowed. Her palms dampened. She wiped them down the front of her jeans.
“Come on back.” Sean waved her to his work station. He helped her up into the large chair, the black leather cool and slippery. He slowly reclined her back as if he was going to clean her teeth. “I’ll show you the transfer and the colors that I think will suit the tat. If you have any questions or want to make any changes, please speak now”—he grinned—“or forever hold your peace.”
Sean held up her transfer that was taped to a small board. The stalk of the dandelion was a lush, mossy green. The stem had a graceful arc to it, as if bending in a forceful wind. The small leaves were wispy and delicate. The head of the flower was releasing its seeds like a rain shower. She stared at it in wonder.
“Is it okay?” Sean asked, his voice low and hesitant.
“It’s beautiful.” She released a tense breath.
“I think we should do the seeds in either a light yellow or neutral amber color. White usually doesn’t work well, especially on Caucasian skin.”
“Let’s do it.” Meg fidgeted in the seat.
“Where we putting this baby?”
Meg unzipped her jeans, pulling them down over one hip.
“I want it right here.” Her finger traced the clean, bare skin between her hip bone and navel.
“It’s gonna look great, Meg.” Sean snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “The outline is the hardest.” His eyes went dark with warning. Meg’s mouth dried. I’m doing this!