Wicked Ink (11 page)

But Dory was standing over him, waiting for him to make some comment. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t, and you won’t. You’re going to sit there until I either talk myself dry, or you finally get it through your thick skull that we all deserve a second chance. It’s time for you to give yourself a break. What more do you need to punish yourself over? Morgan didn’t die all those years ago, and she killed herself…you didn’t do it for her.”

“I made her what she was.” The sight of her sticking that knife into herself would never leave him, nor would the image of Dory hanging in an abandoned back room. How could she think he had nothing to atone for?

“No, you didn’t. God, Garrett, give yourself a break. You think I don’t have regrets? I did stuff I’m not proud of. And all I’ve done to make up for it is some pro bono tax work. Is that enough? Maybe not. But I owe it to myself and the people in my life to move forward without drowning in the past.”

“I can’t…”

She held up her hand. “I’m going to fix you, and then you need to fix yourself. I’d like to be around when you do.”

Her hands on his chest were like a balm to his soul. The first time she’d done this for him, he’d lost too much blood to really feel it. The second time, he’d been too far gone to appreciate it. But now he was truly present as she sat on the floor next to him, her hands on his chest, her head bent over them. She murmured nonsensical things, phrases he would expect to find in some self-help book. But all of it cleansed him. He felt the darkness drain out of him, leaving behind not even an echo.

When she was done, he raised her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d kissed someone. A vague notion that he’d kissed Dory before niggled at his brain, but he would have remembered that in Technicolor, so there was no way.

Peering at her, he sniffed to see if he could detect any darkness around or in her. Where was the evil going when it left his body? He’d never known when he’d sat in the chair, but there, the worst that could happen was that it went into the wood. Here, it could go into her and damage her. “Are you sure you don’t feel any angrier or heavier?”

She laughed, a carefree sound that was more than a balm to his soul. It was restoration of everything he’d thought he’d damaged.

She brushed her hand against his cheek. “You must know you are never supposed to ask a woman if she’s heavier, Garrett. That’s like telling me my butt looks big in a pair of pants.”

This time his laughter felt more natural. “I’ll put that on the list.”

“I like to hear your laugh.”

He’d kept her hands in his after kissing her knuckles. Now he lifted them to his chest and placed them over his heart. “What did you mean about wanting to be here when I fixed myself?”

She rested her forehead against his, her breath coming out sweet and soft. “I like you, Garrett. I think you have so much good in you that you haven’t nurtured. I want to be here when you figure out you do deserve happiness.”

Taking her face into his hands, he stared into her eyes as he brought her closer and closer. When he laid his lips on hers, something zipped through him that felt like the old current yet so different. This was beautiful and comfortable, energizing and enlivening.

“Do that again,” she whispered.

He obliged her and took it a step further by probing the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened for him in a way that stole his breath away.

When they broke apart, he was panting, but not because he couldn’t control himself.

“Please don’t run,” she said quietly. “Don’t leave now that I finally have a chance with you.”

“What do you mean finally?”

Her laughter this time was tinged with embarrassment. “I wasn’t supposed to say that last part out loud.”

“But you did.”

After clearing her throat, she said, “Well, um, I’ve been, uh, admiring you from across the doorway for a while, but since you’re so far out of my league, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. It didn’t change anything when you kissed me earlier since you were out of your mind with pain.”

“Wait? I kissed you? I’d remember that.”

“Hmm, actually you passed out right after that. I must have packed quite a wallop.” She shrugged her shoulders, an endearing and adorable gesture.

Tipping her chin up with two fingers, he looked into her blue eyes. “Now I’m the one who’s trying not to get his hopes up.”

“We’re quite the pair.”

“We could be.” He pulled her into his lap.

“So, are you going to close up the apartment upstairs?” she asked. “Maybe you could let Lester rent it out instead of draining your bank account for something you no longer need. I think your apartment down here could use some new things, too. You hardly have any personal possessions or decorations. I can help you with that. Oh, and now I can cook for you every day. I’ll keep you healthy and fit while you’re out doing all your super hero stuff. I even promise not to use a ton of spices. Then you can come home to me. It will be perfect.” She grinned. “I’m babbling. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I assume you’re the one who threw out the food. Sorry about that…we must just have very different tastes.” He grinned and she returned it. “You make me feel happy.” And possibly believe in love, especially if it was with her. They would sort out the whole food thing later.

The feeling that he could leap over tall buildings with a single bound as long as she was by his side made him smile even more. He had a lot to learn about letting other people into his life, but it all seemed possible with her. She had made it through so much, yet came out the other side as this wonderful person. For the first time since he’d turned himself around, he had hope that he could do the same.

Garrett was done with trying to atone for the past that was far behind him. Now he could fight for peace and security, knowing he would be coming home from the shadowy world to Dory’s light.

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Misty Simon loves a good story and decided one day that she would try her hand at it. Eventually she got it right. She lives with her husband, daughter and two insane dogs in central Pennsylvania, where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers, so drop her a line at
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eISBN-13: 978-1-4603-3079-1

WICKED INK

Copyright © 2014 by Misty Simon

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