Sated in Ink

by Carrie Ann Ryan

She hated that she was hurting. Loathed the fact that she resented that Lincoln had left her, too. But she couldn’t focus on that, she could only focus on Ethan. Because he was the one who was actually hurting physically, and he could fix things with Lincoln. They had so much history. They had been through so much together. She was only the hanger-on.

  She pulled into her driveway, and it took her a moment to realize that there was another car parked in front of her house.

  She looked at it, her mouth going dry. But she figured…why the fuck not? Why the fuck wouldn’t this be happening right now?

  She got out of her car and closed the door gently, mostly because she wanted to slam it. She wanted to scream at the world and ask the universe why this was happening, but there was no point in that.

  “Holland,” her sister said as she got out of her car.

  Holland hadn’t seen her sister since she was down on her knees, sucking off Holland’s fiancé on Holland’s wedding day.

  Because…why the fuck not?

  It seemed like so long ago. She felt like a different person.

  She had thought she was going to be married and happy with Dustin until the end of her days. But, in reality, she had just been in stasis, doing what she thought she needed to do. Dustin wasn’t it for her. She didn’t even think about him anymore.

  Oh, she was still smarting from the hurt of knowing that he had cheated on her with her sister, but he wasn’t her be-all-end-all.

  And as Holland looked at Dakota now, at those wide eyes and her sibling’s look of complete innocence, Holland couldn’t hate her sister either.

  Because without everything happening, she wouldn’t have met Ethan and Lincoln.

  She wouldn’t have been on that park bench, feeling sorry for herself because her world had fallen apart. But she had been wrong about what real pain felt like. Because watching her sister go down on Dustin was only the tip of the iceberg of what pain could actually be. The idea that Ethan could have died hurt more. The idea that Lincoln was gone, had walked out on them without a true explanation, hurt more.

  The fact that she had done the same to Ethan because she was scared? That hurt the worst.

  She didn’t turn her back, didn’t walk away from Dakota.

  Because she knew what true pain felt like. And what Dakota and Dustin had done to her paled in comparison.

  “Hey,” she said again.

  “You never answered my calls.” Her little sister looked down at her hands, and Holland tried to remember the last time she had really spoken to Dakota about anything important. High school maybe? Middle school? She wasn’t sure, and perhaps that was on her. But then again, her family had never really understood her. Hadn’t kept her close. Her entire life had been about making Dakota happy. And once she attempted to find some happiness of her own, Dakota had tried to take it. Holland’s family didn’t know about Ethan and Lincoln. Didn’t know how much her job meant to her. But that was fine. She had been doing just fine on her own. But then she had tried to find happiness again, and figured out too late that it wasn’t for her.

  “I didn’t really know we had anything to say,” Holland said honestly.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  The snarky comeback that had surged to her tongue before didn’t come this time. Because Holland honestly didn’t feel anything.

  “Okay. I believe you. Is there anything else?”

  “Oh,” Dakota said, her eyes widening even more. She looked like a little cartoon deer caught in headlights. But Holland didn’t care.

  She was better off alone. It was something she had learned long ago.

  She shouldn’t have tried to change that.

  “You guys are probably better suited for each other anyway, Dakota.” Her little sister’s eyes widened at Holland’s honesty, but she shrugged. “Seriously. I just wish you would’ve come to me. I really wish he would have broken up with me so you could have found each other another way. I hate the fact that I had to find out the way that I did, but it’s over and done with. And I honestly don’t care anymore.”

  “I’m so sorry. I knew I should’ve figured out something else, but I just didn’t know any other way to tell you.”

  Holland wasn’t even surprised that Dakota had done what she did on purpose. Oh, yes, she had wanted her big sister to find them exactly as she had, because why have an actual discussion when you could make a big dramatic splash about it instead?

  Considering she had run from the wedding in a dramatic way, and had just run from Ethan in a very similar fashion, it apparently ran in the family.

  “I’m never going to trust you,” Holland said honestly, and her sister gave a tight nod. “And I’m not going to the wedding. I don’t even know if I want to be a part of the family the same way I was. But that’s mostly because of Mom.”

  “Well, Dad’s not much better.”

  Holland nodded. “No, he’s really not. Just be happy. Be happy because, once you find it, it’s really hard to hold on to.”

  “You’re talking about Dustin, right?”

  Holland just shrugged, not wanting to talk about Ethan or Lincoln with her sister. She didn’t want to talk about them with anyone.

  And while Holland stood there not saying anything else, Dakota nodded a bit and then got back into her car, started it, and drove off.

  Her sister had gotten the forgiveness she’d come searching for. In a way that was needed. She’d be able to move on with her life, and once again, Holland would be left alone.

  She wouldn’t have family, and she wouldn’t have her friends either. Because the friendships she had started to make with Bristol and Arden and Madison couldn’t last. The three would stay with the men. As they should.

  And Holland would be alone. Again. But that’s what she deserved. She couldn’t figure out what she wanted. She had trouble allowing herself to be safe enough to be loved. But she had to be all right on her own.

  And that was fine. She had her job, and she could call Steven a friend. She had that much. And Steven’s husband was really sweet, too. She could find new friends eventually, ones she didn’t make through people she dated.

  She would be just fine.

  She walked back into her house, closed the door behind her, and sat on the bench near her front door. She put her hands on her face and finally let the tears out.

  She’d left the guys before they could leave her. She understood that. Or at least she had with Ethan. Because Lincoln had left her. He’d left before she could, and that hurt. More tears stung her eyes. It felt as if she were going to throw up, her heart was racing, and her body shook.

  Why wasn’t she good enough? Why didn’t anyone think she was good enough?

  And as she cried, and wished she could take it back, wished she could go back to Ethan’s and tell him they could work it out and get Lincoln back, she knew she needed to work on herself first.

  Because she wasn’t doing this right. She never did.

  She had been a distraction all right, a distraction for herself. And she couldn’t do that again.

  She wouldn’t.

  Chapter 18

  Lincoln tossed himself into his work, tired of looking at a blank canvas, weary of looking at the art that he’d almost destroyed.

  He took another swig from the bottle of Jack and just painted.

  He wasn’t drunk, but he was past buzzed. And if he kept drinking, he’d slide right into inebriated. And he didn’t want to be that artist. Didn’t want to have to rely on alcohol. But for today, he would pretend.

  Because it had been four fucking days since he’d seen them. Since he had walked out and pretended that he was fine.

  But he was a mess. If Damien hadn’t been in Lincoln’s life, then Ethan would be okay. Holland wouldn’t have been threatened. But she had been, maybe not to her face, but she had been, and Ethan had ended up in the fucking hospital.

  Lincoln was going to blame himself. Damien was behind bars and facing God only knew what charges
because of his obsession with Lincoln. And Lincoln was in the middle of it all with everyone. If he pulled himself out of the situation, then things would be better. But he had to work. He had to focus on his art.

  Because before, he’d been able to blame the fact that he couldn’t create on his love for Ethan and how he couldn’t do anything about it. Now? Well, he had done something about it. And it hadn’t been enough. He had tried—tried so fucking hard—and it hadn’t been enough.

  Because Damien had ruined it all.

  And Lincoln had been there to light the whole thing on fire at the end of Damien’s fall from grace.

  He just needed to work. Needed to focus on his art because, apparently, having Ethan in his life the way he had always dreamed of hadn’t been enough for him to break through his block. Having Holland, someone that completed him in a way he never thought possible hadn’t been it either.

  No, it was him. He was the one blocking his art. He was the one standing in his way. He was the one who had to fix it. He needed to remember why he did this, and it wasn’t Damien. It wasn’t selling his art. It wasn’t doing anything for Holland’s shop like he’d promised. Because he wasn’t going to be able to do that now, was he?

  He wouldn’t be working on that piece for Francine like he wanted to for her birthday. He’d be doing none of that. But he needed to focus on why he wanted to paint, why he liked drawing, why he enjoyed being an artist. Because, in the end, it would be the only thing he had left.

  If he couldn’t have the people that he loved, he needed to at least have something.

  Though maybe he didn’t deserve it.

  He added more paint to the canvas, filling in curves and lines. Adding more until a shape began to manifest, and he saw her eyes.

  It was Holland, the side of her, lying on a bed. But not a realistic portrait. More abstract, where you could tell it was a woman, but only he could tell it was Holland. His client wouldn’t know.

  They wouldn’t know that look was for him and Ethan. Wouldn’t know that it meant everything in the world to Lincoln.

  They wouldn’t know that he had walked away from that look because he had been too chickenshit about everything else that had happened.

  But there was no going back now. And he knew that.

  There was a knock on the door, and he froze, swallowing hard.

  He had changed the locks the day after Damien showed up, but he still felt like he needed to do it again, even though that wasn’t realistic at all.

  And then there was a click in the lock and the turning of a key, and he knew who was there. The only person who had access. And it wasn’t Ethan. Not anymore. Because Lincoln had ruined that, just like he wrecked everything else.

  No, he knew who it was. And he knew damn well it was the only person he had left.

  Because he’d walked away from everyone else.

  “I didn’t want to use the key, but I didn’t think you were going to let me in.” Lincoln turned to face Madison as she walked in, closing the door behind her before locking it.

  “I’m just checking on you.”

  “I’m fine.” He knew the words were gruff, knew he was being an asshole, but he didn’t care. He needed to work.

  “And I hate interrupting you when you’re working but I’m so worried about you, Lincoln. You’re like my brother, and I don’t like seeing you in pain. How can I help?”

  “You can go away.”

  “And you can stop being an asshole and talk to somebody.”

  “I’m finally painting, Madison.” He tossed his paintbrush in the cleaner, knowing he needed to soak it first before dealing with the next step. He was at a place where he could pause, and that was good, so he turned to his cousin and glared. “What? What the hell do you want from me?”

  She just stared at him, her chin raised. Then she took a few steps forward.

  “I want you to talk to me. Or someone. Damien came into your home and hurt you. Just like he hurt Ethan. But you’re not talking about it. Nobody is. Nobody’s talking about the fact that you had a black eye and bruises on your face and a cut-up lip. No one’s talking about the fact that he hurt you in more ways than one, or that we can’t get to you. You won’t even let your parents come. I know they said they were going to come out here for you, but you yelled at them and said you didn’t need them.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You’re lying. You’re lying to yourself and to everyone else. Talk to Ethan. He’s up and about now.”

  “You’ve seen him?”

  “His brother Aaron called me. Apparently, Ethan makes sure everyone in his circle has everyone’s numbers for emergencies.”

  “You know Aaron. You’ve met him a few times.”

  “Yes, but we weren’t friends before this. Though we’re becoming so now. Because our family is hurting, and we can’t fix it. Help us fix it. Talk to Ethan. This wasn’t your fault, wasn’t his either. This was Damien. You two and Holland were so good together, and I don’t know why you’re not still together. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense to you. You’re not part of it.”

  “I know that. But you are my family. Therefore, I get to be the one who tells you to get up off your ass and talk to the man you love. Talk to the woman you love. You walked out on Holland, too. You thrust that woman into a relationship that was so unlike anything she’d ever been in before, and then you just left her. You let those cops and those nurses look at her with disdain and judge her, and you didn’t help her. Weren’t there for her.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that? That’s why I’m gone. The two of them can be together, and they can figure shit out. Then maybe, one day, they’ll forgive me enough to be friends with me again. I never want to see that look on Ethan’s face again, the one where he’s scared and pissed off. And I never want to see that look on Holland’s face, when someone’s judging her for who she’s with or who she is.”

  “First off, you knew that going into this. And the rest of that’s on everybody else. Fuck them and their opinions.”

  “It’s easy to say when you’re not part of it.”

  “Yes, I guess it is. But you have never been alone in this. We have all supported you. Yes, any unconventional relationship’s going to be hard, but you just need to communicate. And you’re not doing that. And secondly? Why the hell do you think Holland and Ethan are still together?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Holland left right after you did, and Ethan couldn’t run after her because he was still on the damn couch. That’s what Aaron said anyway.”

  Lincoln swallowed hard.

  “She’s gone?”

  “Yep, she blamed herself or some shit, thought she was getting in the middle of you two and ruining things. You need to fix this, Lincoln. Because Holland’s an amazing person, and she’s alone now. And you are pushing everyone away so you can be alone, too.”

  “I just need to focus.”

  “Focus on your art, sure, I get that. It’s your craft, your passion, your job. But don’t lose everything else because of it. Don’t lose yourself. Don’t lose your happiness. What you had with those two only comes around once in a lifetime. And sometimes never. Don’t lose it.”

  “I don’t know if I ever really had it.”

  “Then you’re far more idiotic than I ever gave you credit for.”

  “Nice,” he barked.

  “I love you, Lincoln. You’re my favorite family member, and you know it. But right now, I don’t really like you much.”

  “I don’t like myself either.”

  “Then fix it. You can fix this.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because every time I close my eyes, I picture Ethan dying. I picture Damien coming after Holland like he promised. All to get them out of the way. For me. And what am I? Not fucking worth it, that’s what.”

  “Lincoln.”

  “No. I don’t want to talk about
this anymore. I just want it to be over. They’ll figure things out. I know they will. Holland will always want to run. Now, she only has to run from one of us.”

  “Lincoln, you know that’s not the case.”

  “Just go. I can’t do this. I don’t have anything left. I have nothing for them. I am the reason they were hurt. They can figure it out together. Because I don’t deserve what I had.”

  As Madison just stared at him, Lincoln wasn’t sure there was anything else to say. His cousin swallowed hard, grabbed her bag, and then walked away.

  And he honestly didn’t know if she would be back. Apparently, he was good at pushing everybody out of his life.

  And he didn’t know how to fix that. Didn’t know if he should.

  He went back to his work. Hours passed, and he switched to water, figuring that getting drunk wouldn’t fix anything. Maybe, just maybe he had his art worked out, though.

  He was still working on that commission piece, but it meant nothing.

  Because he didn’t even have the contact information for the client.

  Damien had set it up, and now he’d have to figure it out on his own.

  He had a scheduled art show coming up, and that was probably gone, too. All because he had let Damien handle it for him, and now he was fucked.

  But, he probably deserved it. And more.

  His phone buzzed on the table, and he almost ignored it, except for the fact that he didn’t recognize the number. It wasn’t anybody he knew.

  He tapped his brush against his thigh as he stared at his artwork, then picked up the phone.

  “Is this Lincoln McClard?”

  Lincoln frowned. “Yes? Can I ask who I’m speaking with?”

  “Oh, good, I’m so glad this is your number. This is Frank Statham from the Statham Projects.”

  Jesus Christ, the client.

  Lincoln sat down on his rickety stool and licked his lips. “Oh, I remember you guys. Shit. Um, sorry for cursing. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’d assume so.” There was a pause. “I heard about what happened with Damien. I’m really sorry you and your partners were hurt in that. Well, that Ethan was hurt and Holland almost was.”