Inked Expressions

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Instead of heading home like he probably should, he went to her kitchen and got out a couple of mugs and packets for hot cocoa she kept around for the boys. This late, he knew Everly liked chocolate with extra marshmallows rather than coffee, and he wanted to get something warm in her before he left.

  By the time she came into the kitchen, he had two steaming mugs of hot cocoa on the counter and a can of tomato soup on the stove. It sounded like a gross combination, but it was the only soup he could find that didn’t have pasta shapes.

  “You didn’t have to do all of this,” Everly said, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “I know, but I wanted to.” He didn’t know what else to say, so he handed her a mug.

  “Thank you.” She took the hot cocoa from him and wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic. “I don’t think I’m fully processing yet.”

  “You don’t have to process yet. You need to get warm and get some sleep. You can deal with things and figure out what you need to do tomorrow.” He let out a breath. “I’m just so fucking sorry, Ev.”

  She met his gaze, her eyes filling with tears. “I hate to cry. I hate it. And yet all I seem to be doing lately is crying.”

  Storm cursed and set down his mug then pulled hers from her hands. He cupped her face, and she stiffened. “Your store just burned to the ground, and it looks like arson. Cry, Everly. That’s okay. You’re allowed to.”

  She pressed her lips together, a single tear falling down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb, and her eyes widened. When she took a step back, he knew it was for the best.

  Before he could say anything else, she frowned and picked up her purse from where she’d set it on the kitchen table. “There was a note.”

  He froze. “A note?”

  She pulled a piece of crumpled paper out of her bag. “I don’t know if I picked up the envelope since I just threw things in my bag as I ran out, but I got this letter today. It was addressed to Jackson, so it’s not connected to this I don’t think, but it’s still weird.”

  She handed it over to Storm, and he frowned.

  I’m still waiting.

  “Huh. We should show this to the cops just in case.”

  Everly blew out a breath. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

  He set the note down on the table and pulled her close. “You don’t have to know yet. But I’m not letting you do it alone.” He’d promised himself he’d always be there for her, and yet he hadn’t been enough. He still wasn’t enough.

  She wrapped her arms around his middle, and he slid his hand up and down her back, calming himself as much as her. When they pulled away from each other a few moments later, their faces were only a few short breaths apart.

  Almost as if he were someone else, as if he didn’t know the consequences, he lowered his head, brushing his mouth along hers. She froze for the barest moment before pressing her lips against his, the pressure a sweet agony he couldn’t comprehend until it was too late.

  When his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, she opened for him, their breaths mingling, their bodies pressed tightly together. He almost deepened the kiss until he realized what the fuck he was doing and pulled away, his body shaking.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, Ev. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She blinked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

  He didn’t let her speak, didn’t let him say another thing. Instead, he brushed past her, trying to get himself under control and fled from her house.

  He’d kissed his best friend’s wife.

  His dead best friend’s wife.

  There wasn’t a level in hell good enough for him. He’d burn, and he’d deserve it. And yet…and yet he knew he’d never forget the softness of her lips, the taste of her tongue.

  Yeah, he would burn.

  Chapter Seven

  Everly gripped her phone as she checked the time once again. It had been over an hour since the nurse had checked in on them in the waiting room, and she was about to crawl out of her skin.

  That had been a familiar feeling for the past three days.

  Since the fire that had taken her bookstore three days ago, she’d gone through what had happened countless times, had spoken to a dozen officials about what she could do, and now she could only wait and see what the next step would be. She hadn’t been able to walk inside to see the remnants of her place of business, but she did know that her place had been burned down on purpose.

  Arson, the fire marshal had said. Arson. And, thankfully, they believed someone other than she had done it, or she’d be an even worse wreck. They were still waiting on the report, and she still didn’t have a job or a place of business, but she couldn’t think about that.

  Because today was not about her or her store.

  It was about James.

  Her baby boy was in the middle of surgery, and she couldn’t be there for him. She could only sit or pace in the small waiting room with the lumpy couches and stiff chairs. Thankfully, though, she wasn’t alone. Nancy and Peter sat on the loveseat across from her, a book in Peter’s hand and a stern expression on Nancy’s face. And it was because of times like these that Everly never pushed Jackson’s parents away. They might make Everly feel unwanted or like a bad mother sometimes, but they loved their grandchildren with all their hearts.

  They weren’t the only ones who had shown up, though. Storm sat in the chair next to her, a sleeping Nathan in his lap. She hadn’t known if he’d come since they hadn’t spoken since the incident in her kitchen that night. But he’d known the time of the surgery and had arrived with coffee and sweets and had hung out with Nathan to keep her little boy entertained for most of the time he’d been there. Storm had only spoken a few words to Everly, and she was kind of glad for it. This wasn’t the time or place and, frankly, she had no idea what she’d say anyway.

  Storm’s parents had even shown up, and she’d almost cried. Marie and Harry Montgomery were two of the most amazing people in the world. They’d also been to this hospital too many times to count recently with their grown children and their own issues, but she was so honored they’d come. The two elder Montgomerys had gone to the hospital cafeteria to get coffee for the rest of the group a few moments ago, and she missed their presence. They’d kept Jackson’s parents at bay, and now there were no blockers.

  “Jackson wouldn’t have let this happen,” Nancy said suddenly.

  Everly froze. “Excuse me?” she clipped.

  “The store. He wouldn’t have let you keep the store so long with the children at home. If he’d been here, you wouldn’t have let it burn to the ground. Now you have no income for his children, and you’re far too stressed to take proper care of the boys.”

  Everly couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Of all the far-fetched ideas Nancy could have come up with, this topped anything Everly could have imagined.

  “Nancy,” Storm growled out. “That’s ridiculous, and you know it.” He kept his voice low and rubbed his hand over Nathan’s back as if to keep him asleep. And while Everly was grateful, she did not need him defending her.

  “I’ve got this, Storm,” she said quietly, her voice calm. She stood up and walked over to Nancy, leaning forward so the woman could hear her as she whispered. “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re scared. I am, too. But—”

  She didn’t get to finish her statement because the door opened at that moment, and James’s doctor walked in, a calm expression on his face. She turned on her heel immediately and moved toward him.

  “How is James?”

  “He’s doing just fine,” the older man said softly.

  Jackson’s parents, as well as Storm’s, circled around her, and she saw Storm out of the corner of her eye stand up with a sleeping Nathan in his arms, rocking the boy even as he rose.

  “The surgery went well, and he’s in post-op. We’ll get him settled into his room in a moment, but you can come back with me now so we can talk. He’s waking up slowing from the anesthesia
, but he’s still groggy and will be in and out for a few hours. He’s calling for you and someone named Storm, though. I thought he was talking about a storm for a bit, but I think he wants a person or a stuffed animal or something along those lines. We can go over the details of the surgery and his recovery as we walk. Do you have a Storm?” the man asked, a gentle smile on his face.

  Everly stiffened, refusing to look behind her so she could gather her thoughts. Nancy huffed out a breath beside her, but Everly was not in the mood to deal with that woman and her attitude.

  “I’m Storm,” the man in question said softly. “Ev, you okay with me going with you? Just so he can go to sleep if that’s the problem.”

  She finally turned and nodded. “I think James would like that, even if he’s really groggy.”

  Storm nodded, and instead of laying Nathan down on the couch, he handed her son over to Marie, who cooed and rocked the baby boy. The older woman looked as if she held a three-year-old in her arms without looking strained every day. With how many Montgomerys there were, though, Everly figured that might be true.

  Everly continued to ignore Jackson’s parents, still hurt and annoyed about Nancy’s comments, and followed the doctor to James’s room, Storm by her side. Her nerves were shot, but when he reached out and gripped her hand, she tangled her fingers with his and calmed ever so slightly. She refused to even think about what any of that meant, instead focusing on what the doctor was saying. Everything had gone well during the procedure, and the implant had been inserted. They still had many hurdles to overcome, but the biggest part was done. She felt like she wanted to break down in tears from relief, but held it in. She’d done far too much crying lately and couldn’t focus on her kids if she was a blubbering mess.

  The fact that she held Storm’s hand during it all was not lost on her. The fact that it steadied her, however, worried her.

  When they made it to James’s room, her little baby looked so small on the bed, tubes running in and out of his body. They’d decided to shave his entire head, instead of just the side because he’d wanted to look cool. Nathan had also wanted to buzz-cut his hair, but there had only been so much Everly could take, and she’d talked him out of it.

  Nathan had been quiet and still in his hospital bed less than a month ago, and here she was, once again, looking at one of her babies in pain.

  How much more could her soul take?

  “You can stay here for as long as you need,” her doctor said softly. “We’re in the wing where we can bring in a cot for you to sleep if needed, as well.”

  She nodded, her voice not quite strong enough to speak.

  “Thank you,” Storm said quietly. “We appreciate it.”

  The doctor left, and Everly went to James’s side. He had an IV in his hand, so she gripped his tiny wrist, holding back tears. This wasn’t his first surgery, but that didn’t make it any easier. And she never wanted seeing her children in pain to become rote.

  “Hey, buddy,” Storm said softly as James’s eyes fluttered open.

  James smiled but didn’t say anything. Everly figured he wasn’t really awake and wouldn’t remember this, but she’d talk to him just like Storm was.

  “You’re such a strong boy,” Everly said softly. “I love you, baby.”

  She and Storm talked to him for a few more minutes before he went back to sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily in his slumber. She let out a shaky breath and stood up, needing to collect her thoughts.

  Storm followed her out toward the waiting room and stood like a silent protector at her side. Before they made it though, they stopped in the hallway, as if both of them needed a moment to collect themselves before seeing the others.

  “Thank you,” she said after a moment. “I’ve been saying that often recently, but thank you.”

  “They’re Jackson’s kids, Ev. Of course, I’m going to be here.”

  She refused to let the hurt in at that statement, but before she could say anything, he mumbled a curse under his breath.

  “That’s a lie. I’m not here because of Jackson. That’s part of it, but not all of it. I love those kids, Ev. And I’m here because of you, too.” He let out a breath. “I’m not sure what that means, but I’m still here.” He reached up to cup her face, but stopped, lowering his hand before he touched her.

  She had no idea what was going on, but she knew something had changed.

  His phone rang at that instant, and the nurse at the counter glared. “You’re going to have to take that outside in the waiting room. No phones in here.”

  Everly frowned at him as his face closed off. He turned off the ringer, a new tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. “I have to leave anyway,” he said after a moment, his voice gruff. “Tell the kid I’ll be back.”

  “What’s going on?” His attitude had changed in a blink, and she couldn’t keep up with it all.

  “I need to go. I’m glad he’s out of surgery, and hell, I’m just happy to see him awake for even those few minutes. Do you want me to send Nancy and Peter back? I’m sure my parents can watch Nathan while they’re back here so you three can be with him. You said Nathan was staying with Jackson’s parents tonight anyway, so you three probably need to talk.”

  He was rambling, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t seem to know anything these days.

  “I…yes, send them back.” She paused, concern filling her. “What’s wrong, Storm?”

  His jaw tightened. “Nothing new. I’ve just got to go.”

  And with that, he turned and left her standing like a fool in the hallway, confused, a little hurt, and knowing that she needed to put that all away and put her children first.

  Because that was what she always did. She was a mom first, Everly second.

  And that was the only way she knew how to be. The only way she should be.

  Chapter Eight

  “Where does this go?” Storm asked, the light box in his hand almost too heavy after so much lifting that day. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t lift more than a pen for the next week after everything he’d done to himself recently.

  “Over in the living room,” Clay said, a frown on his face. “Wait. No, the family room.” The kid ran a hand through his hair and gave Storm an embarrassed smile. “I keep forgetting what I’m calling each room in the house. I’ve never had so much space, you know?”

  Storm just shook his head, a smile playing on his face. “You’ve earned the space, though, kid. So call the rooms what you want. Just stick to it.”

  Clay rolled his eyes and lifted a much heavier box. He was almost fifteen years younger than Storm and didn’t have back issues so he could do all the heavy lifting he wanted.

  “You know, I’m twenty-four now. Not so much a kid.”

  Storm set the box down with the others and rubbed his lower back. “I’m looking at forty, Clay. Pretty sure you’ll always be a kid to me.”

  The younger man snorted. “Okay, old and wise one. Whatever you say. You want to take a break? Your back has got to be killing you after all that lifting.”

  Storm shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s finish up,” Storm interrupted, not in the mood to rehash the past. Of course, that was an inevitability since that was what they’d always done. The only reason he was even at Clay’s new home helping him out was because their pasts had crossed that fateful night twenty years ago.

  Shit, had it really been twenty years?

  Two decades of secrets, pain, and nightmares. And yet he was sure that it wouldn’t end anytime soon. Clay would always be on the periphery of Storm’s life. Always a symbol of everything that had been lost. A reminder of his penance.

  Storm had been helping out Clay and the kid’s grandparents for the past two decades. They’d formed a bond on a rainy night when the world had gone to hell and the sound of screeching metal echoed…a memory that still kept him up at night.

  Clay blew out a breath. “Fine, old m
an. But then you’re sitting down and helping me unpack a few boxes instead of lugging everything around. It’s been a couple hours already. I didn’t figure you’d be helping me for so long.”

  Storm shrugged. “You’re moving into your first home. One that you own rather than rent, and you’re only twenty-four. I’m proud of you and wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

  Clay smiled, looking more like the kid he’d been rather than the man he’d become. “I’m just glad the loan assist went through. Rent around here is even more expensive than a mortgage.”

  Storm nodded. “The market right now is off-kilter for sure. We’re doing more rehabs than new builds these days. Though I have a feeling that’s going to change soon. It’s all cyclical.”

  Clay picked up another box. “Do you like doing rehabs? I know you’re the architect of the company. Wouldn’t you rather work on something from scratch?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  The two of them set down their boxes in the kitchen before moving to the living room and taking a seat on the couch. His back thanked him, and he let out a slow breath before cutting open the top of a box to start making piles for Clay.

  “What does that mean?” Clay asked, working on his own box.

  He thought about how to answer since he hadn’t really thought about it before. He just loved what he did, even if it stressed him out most days. Though that might come from working with family day in and day out. “Both aspects of what I do appeal to different parts of my creativity, I guess. It’s not always about making something new. Sometimes, I get more out of seeing what I can do with something already there. Time takes its toll on homes and buildings, even if we do everything in our power to make sure it doesn’t do too much. I like going into what’s already there and seeing how I can make it work for what’s needed now. There’s something interesting in finding a layout and design that not only brings in part of the past but blends it into what’s happening around us. Function and features.”