Knockout (22 page)

By the time I got home that night I was done. I was gone. I collapsed on my bed in my clothes and swore I wasn’t moving until the sun rose the next day.

It almost happened. If only I had remembered to put my phone to silent again.

It rang beside my face at about 4 am. I groaned as I reached for it, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“What?” I demanded groggily.

“Wow. Good morning, sunshine.”

“Dammit, I’m sorry, Alexander,” I said, not really meaning it. I wasn’t sorry. It was four in the morning! “What’s up?”

“I was getting ready for work, thought I’d call and see how everything was.”

“You do know there’s a three hour time difference, right?”

He paused. “You do know you didn’t tell me you’d left New York yet, right?”

Fuck.

“Oh man,” I groaned.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, now I really am sorry.”

“You weren’t before?”

“No, but now I feel like a total bitch. That was awful. I thought I told you.”

“No. Last I heard was a text telling me you were making arrangements. I asked when you were leaving and I never got an answer.”

“It was chaos. I’m sorry.”

“You can stop saying it, I understand. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, but of course you’re being cool about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice to me, Alexander.”

He chuckled. “Not possible.”

“It is,” I said firmly, staring at the ceiling. “It really is.”

There was a brief silence on the line as he thought about that.

“Is that why we broke up?” he asked quietly.

I didn’t answer. I had no idea how. Maybe that was why? But no, not really. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a nice guy. Of course I did. I just didn’t want
this
guy. And how do you say that without saying there’s something wrong with them? Without saying their eyes are too shallow, too bright. Too earnest and open. How is that a bad thing? And that’s just it. It’s not a bad thing, but it is the wrong thing. At least for me.

“I should get to work,” he said, filling the silence I’d made. “I’m glad you’re home safe. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling like it wasn’t enough but it was all I had.

“Stop, it’s fine. Say hi to your family for me. Tell Kellen I’m pulling for him. Bye.”

“Bye.”

But he didn’t hear me. He’d already hung up.

The moment Kellen walked into the shop, the air was sucked out of my lungs. He’d never been there before. I’d never seen him standing tall and broad in the doorway surrounded by artwork on the wall, some of it mine, and looking like everything I’d ever hoped for. He was a virgin, a blank canvas, and I was about to mark him with something that was mine. I doubted he understood the intimacy that held for me. The trust and the honor that it was to be his first tattoo, but it cut me to the quick. I was on pins and needles all morning thinking about it, worrying over the sketch I’d done for him. For his mom.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at him from behind the desk. “Welcome to Black Ink.”

He grinned as he looked around. “How have I never been here before?”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Laney and mom haven’t either.”

“But your dad has?”

“Oh yeah. He and Bryce talk college football for hours.”

“Bryce is your boss?”

“And mentor, yeah,” Bryce said coming up behind me. He offered Kellen his hand. “Nice to meet you, man. Good to see you up and around. You had our girl worried for a while.”

“Thanks, good to meet you too. Sorry I stole her away from you for so long.”

“You needed her more than we did.”

“Yeah, I did. Still do, but she’s abandoned me.”

“It was one night and people made you delicious soup,” I told him impatiently. “I’m sure you’ll get over it someday.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll try.”

“Are you ready to get your first tattoo?” I asked, sliding out from behind the desk.

“Definitely.”

I led him back to my station and patted the chair for him to sit. Then I pulled out the sketch I’d done. When I laid it out for him he stared at it for a long time. Then he traced his fingertips over it, finding his mom’s initials in the middle immediately.

“Were these in the drawing you sent me?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t see them.”

“It was small.”

“You remembered her name.”

“Madeline, yeah. Of course I did.”

“I only ever told you the one time and that was years ago.”

“I know,” I said easily, giving him a small grin, “but when you talk, I listen.”

He smiled slightly, his eyes on my face.

“Alright, where do you want it?” I asked, turning to business. Trying to shake him off.

“Where do you think I should put it?”

“That’s up to you. It’s your tat, it’s your body.”

He didn’t hesitate. “My chest. Over my heart.”

I nodded in understanding, keeping my mouth shut. He wasn’t having it.

“That’s where you got your first, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Can I see it?”

I chuckled, arranging my equipment and avoiding his eyes. “You’ve seen it plenty of times.”

“Never up close. There’s never been a chance to really look at it.”

I sat forward and pulled slightly at the hem of my tank top until it dipped below the tattoo. Kellen leaned in close to examine it. His breath brushed against my skin giving me shivers and I silently begged him not to touch me. Not to trace it the way he had years ago. Luckily, he kept his hands to himself.

“It’s really good. Bryce did that?”

“Yeah,” I said, letting my shirt snap back into place. “He did it on my eighteenth birthday.”

“I should have come with you.”

I shrugged. “You were busy with Laney stuff.”

“Yeah, but it was your birthday. And a big one.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“It didn’t then,” I snapped, getting annoyed with the conversation.

“Yeah, it did,” he insisted. “But I was caught up in other shit and I couldn’t get out.”

“Other shit as in my sister.”

“Among other things. I was on a track—”

“On a bullet train,” I said, quoting him from the day in the park. The last day before the accident.

“And I didn’t know how to get off.”

I looked at him long and hard. “What about now? Now where are you?”

He met my eyes unflinching. “Now I’m pulling the e-brake.”

The air had that thick feeling it got when he was around. Whenever he got close or his eyes were on me for too long. I felt like I was breathing thin air, too high up to function right or think straight. The world slowed and blurred around the edges, going soft focus and strange.

“Kellen,” I said slowly, taking a deep breath, “what are we talking about here?”

“Tattoos and trains. That’s it.”

“Really? Cause it seems like a lot more.”

“Judging from the look on your face you can’t handle more, so for now it’s tattoos and trains.”

“What look on my face?”

“The one that says you’re scared as shit of what I’m saying to you.”

I shook my head faintly. “I’m not scared. I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going through a lot right now. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Maybe now is not a great time for big decisions or canceling plans.”

“Better now than when it’s too late.”

“Kel—“

He leaned forward in the seat until our faces were nearly touching. Until his breath was mine and his eyes were indigo blue darkness pulling me forward and dragging me into him.

“Jenna, I’ve never been so clear in all my life. I’ve never been so sure about the things I want than I am right now.”

I blinked, telling myself to pull away. What I did was lean closer.

“What do you want?”

His eyes roamed my face, taking in every inch of my skin, hair and bones. He saw me down to the blood in my veins as it beat through my heart. He saw it clench and ache. Shutter with fear and anticipation.

He leaned back, sitting fully laid out in the chair, his eyes still with me. “For now, I want a tattoo.”

I sat back slowly, nodding my head.

“You got it.”

I didn’t know what was on his mind, but I had an idea. I also knew it wasn’t my business and it wasn’t anything I could handle at the moment. What I needed to do was get into this tattoo. To get lost in the focus of it the way I always did. I would find that center where I was me and strong and sure, unwavering in everything I did. It didn’t matter that it was Kellen and I repeated that to myself in my head five times when he took off his shirt and I stared down at the smooth planes of his body. He was smaller than usual, but he was still a man. He was still larger than the average bear and as I pressed the drawing over his soft, brown skin, I reminded myself five more times that it didn’t matter that this was Kellen. It was just another tattoo.

“Put your arm out here,” I said, pulling his arm away from his body so I could get closer to his torso. “Not too far. You don’t want to stretch your skin weird because the tattoo will follow it.”

“Around you waist like this?”

His arm went around me and pinned my body in tight against his side. I nodded in agreement, avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah, perfect.”

He looked at the ceiling as I started to work. He didn’t speak to me and I didn’t feel the need to speak to him either. I pinpointed my world to that section of his body that was perfect skin and hard muscle. I ignored the feel of being tucked in close to his side. I ignored his breathes as they rose and fell inside his chest under my fingers. I ignored the sound of the machine and the feel of my shirt rising in the back when I leaned forward over my work.

I tried to ignore his hand on the arm wrapped around me as his fingers brushed that bare skin. I tried to ignore the surprised tremor it sent through me. The firmer press of his hand in response. The claiming of more of my flesh under his, his heat pressing into my spine through his palm. I wanted to ignore the slow circles he drew on my skin with his fingertips.

I never looked away from the tattoo and I never felt the weight of his eyes on me. Only his palm on my skin and the hum of the machine in my hand. It went on that way for hours.

When I was done, I pulled away slowly.

“It’s finished.”

He sat up, releasing me as he went to the mirror nearby. I stood beside him, feeling a little shaky but eagerly watching his expression through the reflection. I felt like I did the day I’d I gave him that painting only a million times worse. I thought I’d vomit then. I was about to pee my pants now.

“Whoa.” He turned to look at me, his depthless eyes full of emotion. “Jen, it’s better than I expected. I knew you had skills but holy shit. This is…” he looked back in the mirror, “this is just, it’s beyond what I expected. It’s alive.”

I looked in the mirror with him, grinning as I admired my work. “I wanted it to have a somber feel but also sections bathed in light. I kind of got the feeling that that’s how you see her. Your mom. There were dark corners, ones you didn’t understand and parts that still hurt, but mostly when you think of her it’s her life and light. It’s her being your mom and she was good at that. That part makes you happy.”

“How do you know all of that?” he murmured. His eyes were fixed on mine in the mirror.

I met his stare head on. “Because, Kel, even when you don’t talk, I still listen.”

He shook his head, his eyes shining as he looked back to the cross on his chest. He looked sturdier to me now. He looked stronger than he had in days and I don’t know if the tattoo made him seem that way or if the feel of his hands on my skin had made me weaker and he was strong in comparison. Either way, he looked more like Kellen than he had in weeks and I was grateful to be standing beside him seeing it. I was happy to help build my friend back.

“So, here’s a sheet on taking care of it,” I said as I handed him a print off of instructions.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. My treat. I was happy to pop your cherry.”

“No way. I’m paying you for this. This is too good for a freebie.”

“You wouldn’t charge me for legal advice. This is no different.”

“It’s completely different. If you ask me legal advice, you pick my brain. That’s it. You used ink and equipment. At least let me pay for that.”