Kian swallowed hard past the painful lump in his throat. His heart felt like a rock, slamming in his chest, pummeling his ribs over and over. “You need someone.” His voice was strained. He knew that someone couldn’t be him. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk tainting her life. Right now, when she was vulnerable, she didn’t know what she truly meant…
He was surprised when she pulled away and shook her head violently. Her eyes widened and some of that light that used to be there appeared. “No. No, don’t you say that! Don’t try that! Don’t back out on me now. I don’t care how fucked up you are. I don’t care what you might have done in the past. We’re here now. You and me. We’ve been here since we met each other. You’re not leaving my head or my heart. I don’t need someone. I need you. No more running. No more trying to justify it or make sense of it. I just- accept it. I’m not trying to fix you. I don’t want to be just friends or fuck buddies. I want you. All of you. All your painful parts too. Everything that you think I can’t accept. Because, guess what? I’m heading down the same road. The same road you were walking and I sure as hell need you to pull me off it. Pull me off and start a new path. A path where happiness and love still exist. You need it too. You need it just as badly. So instead of walking our own shitty, pothole filled roads, let’s just pick each other up and find a better path. Together. I’m ready. I’ll be anything you need, when you need it.”
Wow. My angel. My angel is a damn fighter. Katelyn had gone from looking lost and afraid, scared and so very uncertain, to utterly determined. She was the kind of person who didn’t hide from life, even when she wanted to. Even when it hurt a hell of a lot less to do so. She wasn’t going to let this break her. This monumental loss.
The next words out of his mouth were even more shocking. “I’ll go back to London with you. I’ll support you in anything you need.” God, those words were a promise, a promise that they both needed so very badly. He hadn’t meant to say it, but once he did, he wasn’t taking it back. There was no going back. He wanted to move forward. “I don’t believe in fate. I don’t think there’s much I do actually believe in any more, but I believe in this. You were sent to me that night. I remember opening my eyes and staring up at you, thinking you were an angel. I’ve always thought that. That’s what I call you in my head, my angel. You are everything I didn’t know I needed, exactly when I needed it.”
He waited. She blinked. The moments ticked by in hard, awkward, pain filled silence. He braced for rejection. He’d gone and shocked even himself, laid it all out there, every hope and dream he never had the courage to even think of, let alone reach out and grab.
Kian watched Katelyn’s face. His heart leapt when that light in her eyes grew even stronger. She didn’t smile and her eyes filled up with fresh tears, but he knew exactly what it was she was feeling. Or at least, he thought he did. This was so different than his experience. He’d made sure he hadn’t had anyone at all. In the process of walling himself up so tight, he’d shut everyone out. Shut out his own healing.
“You know, it’s crazy, but so is life. You can never have anything figured out. I’ve had enough bends in my roads, hurtful things, painful things, things that have taught me lessons I suppose I needed to learn. Please, if you’re going to offer this now, please let it be different. If we do this, we have to do it together. There is no bailing. We are going to have a child involved. A child, Kian. I need you to walk by my side. I need you to talk together with me and not pull away when it gets hard. God, it’s already hard. I need you, but I’ll only accept your offer if it’s true and if it’s real. I know you’re sincere, I don’t doubt that, but I need to know you’re not going to bail on me when we have a fight or when you’d rather be alone or when the hurt is too much to bear. I need to know you’ll lean on me, not rip away from me.”
Jesus. “I… Katelyn…” He scrubbed a hand hard, over his cheeks, over his own misty eyes and down again, smoothing the length of his thick black beard. “You’re right. The rest of the world might not believe it, or believe in us, but the rest of the world doesn’t usually get it. What we have is special. It means everything to both of us. I never thought I’d get a second chance. At life. At love. At a family. At anything, and here I am, an angel in my arms. It’s not going to be easy. Nothing ever is. You were right when you said this is the worst time in your life. Grief takes so much energy and time, but it does heal. You can come out on the other side of it. It’s taken me a long time to learn that it’s okay to walk with it hand in hand. That the pain doesn’t ever leave, but it does dim. The love you had for the ones you lost doesn’t ever fade. That’s what is so important to hang onto. All the good memories. Since I met you, I can actually focus on that. You are the light in my life. I swear to you, if you take this leap with me, this journey, I will stand with you. I’ll be your rock, even if you wish sometimes that I’d just get the hell out of your way and out of your hair and leave you alone.”
She blinked and those tears ripening in her eyes spilled down her pale cheeks. “I would never wish that. Ever. I… don’t know if it makes sense to say I love you, but I do. You’re right. No one will understand, but they don’t need to. Only we do. If we promise each other we’ll work at it until we either get there or it becomes so apparent that we can’t-”
“We’ll get there, Katelyn. We’ll fucking get there.” Kian couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled her into his arms, all hard, masculine strength. He slammed a hot kiss down on her mouth, not because he wanted her physically, though he did, but because he needed to seal the vow he’d just made with something. He needed to give her his everything, his body, his life, his soul. She’d have it. He pulled away, breathing heavily. “I don’t do anything halfway. We’ll make it. We’ll make it through and we’ll become a family, somehow. One day, when we’re ancient we’ll look back on this moment and we’ll wonder at the fact that we could have doubted.”
“I don’t doubt. Sometimes you just know, through everything, that you’re with the one your heart truly belongs with. You are mine, Kian. We’ll figure out what that means together.”
“Together,” he promised. He ran his hand over Katelyn’s delicate, honey hair as she leaned into him, drawing at last, on the strength he had to offer.
Their words, their vow of sorts, hung in the air between them. Together.
He’d never believed redemption was possible. Even at this point in her life, one of her most pain filled, lowest, hardest moments to walk through, she redeemed him. If that didn’t make her an angel, he didn’t know what did. She was his angel, his, and he knew that he wouldn’t let go of her ever again.
The End
TATTOOED HEARTS
Chapter 1
The Ending
Mike
“I’m sorry, Christine, I just don’t love you.” Mike Arman watched Christine Sorenson’s face change. His girlfriend’s- no, correction, ex-girlfriend’s petite, beautiful features cinched together. Her pale cheeks glowed an angry red. She blinked long, dark eyelashes, as though trying to comprehend what he’d just said. He gave his words a moment to sink in and when they did, he knew he was in for a bad scene.
“It’s a fine time to tell me that now, after we’ve been together for eight months!”
“I’m sorry! I wanted to give it a shot. A real, honest shot, but I just can’t do it.”
“Because you’re still in love with her? A woman you dated for six months? What does she have that I don’t? What did she do for you that I couldn’t do? Oh wait. I forgot. I never tore out your heart and stomped all over it. I never refused to answer your calls. I never cut you out of my life. Maybe I should. Maybe it would have made you as desperate as you are for her.”
“Christine…” His voice held a warning edge, but she charged right on ahead. She stood, shoving her chair back. It scraped across the stone tile of her kitchen floor with a high pitched whine that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t his finest moment, breaking up with a woman in
her kitchen.
“No! Don’t Christine me, you son of a bitch! We’ve been going out for eight months! Eight months of my life that I can never get back. Eight months that I threw away hoping that you’d come around and realize what was right in front of you.”
“I do appreciate you. It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s me-”
“Of fucking course it’s you! God! You’re pathetic, Mike. You’ve always been pathetic. I can’t believe I wasted my time on a loser. Who waits around, pining for someone who never appreciated them? You’re pathetic. Savannah Fiacco has probably been spreading her legs for every single person who wanted to get between them for the past year.”
Mike waited. He counted to ten. He fucking did it again. What he really wanted to do was get up and punch a hole right through the drywall. It was orange. Actual orange. Who painted their damn kitchen and dining room orange? He’d always hated the color and at the moment, his fingers itched to give the damn wall a reason to get a new paint job. He’d be doing it a favor really… he controlled himself. Barely.
Christine’s dainty shoulders heaved with anger. Her face, a face that he’d once thought was pretty, but really couldn’t muster up the attraction to think so any longer, screwed up with rage. With her features twisted like that, she almost resembled some kind of bad Sci-Fi monster. He repressed a shudder.
“Good to see your truly colors finally coming out. It makes this a hell of a lot easier.”
“Yah! My true colors huh? Try dating a single woman, Mike, that doesn’t react like this when you up and dump them, just because you still have a hard on for a ghost.”
“She’s not a ghost.”
“No? Well, she’s too good for even you.”
“You’ve never met her.”
“I know she’s never coming back. There was a reason she left, which I fully understand now. No one wants to date a child.”
Her words rankled, since it was almost exactly what Savannah had accused him of being over a year ago, when she broke up with him out of nowhere. He was almost sure she was with him, just to get with his best friend anyway, but it still hurt like hell. It hurt far worse than it should have. He’d dated a hell of a lot of women. No, dated wasn’t really the right word. More like, hooked up. But the ones he had gone out with, it didn’t ever really mean anything. It was different with Savannah. Even though she was way younger than he was, even though she was spoiled and a daddy’s girl, little more than a rich brat, she got him. Just got him. Right away. It was that instant connection that he’d never shared with anyone else and after she’d left him, she sure as hell had crushed him.
Nothing in his world had been right after she left. Not even his art, which usually got him through the worst of times.
“Goodbye, Christine. Thank you for making this easy.”
“Fuck you, Mike.”
“Not anymore, thanks.”
“It was never that good. I faked it. Every time.”
He knew that was a lie, but he wasn’t going to get into that. He’d never seen this side of Christine before. They’d met when she’d come in for a tattoo. She was pretty. Very pretty. She left her number without him asking. He had a hole in his tattered heart a mile wide and she’d filled it, like a poorly fitted plug. It hadn’t lasted for him. He’d actually never felt it. He’d just stuck it out because he was lonely. He always hoped, like he told her, that he’d come around. That things would change for him and that he wouldn’t see Savannah’s face in his dreams. He wouldn’t sketch her, late at night, when he gave in to the temptation of taking the aching memories from his mind and laying them out on paper. It never happened and he knew he was done. He had to end it, if only to spare Christine. He could understand her anger, even if it was ugly.
“I’ll show myself out.”
“Good. Do me a favor and don’t call.”
He heard the desperation in her voice, underlying her tone, contradicting her spiteful words. He refused to answer as he stalked through the house, to the entrance. He slammed into his shoes and pulled open the door. He shut it quietly, just because he was feeling a little spiteful himself and knew the controlled move would deny Christine the satisfaction that a slam would have given her.
And just like that, his relationship was over.
He got in his classic car, a whole lot of dark green sixties muscle, a project he’d spent years restoring and roared down the driveway. He made it out onto an open stretch of road before he cranked the window open and let the rushing air soar through the cab. The droplets of sweat that stood out at his hairline and the base of his neck cooled and he shivered.
He didn’t know where he was driving. He didn’t truly care. His relationship was over and he felt nothing. None of the required pain, though he had truly liked Christine. She was alright. It wasn’t her fault that he was damaged. Or haunted. Perhaps that was a more apt term.
It made perfect sense, the fact that he couldn’t feel. He was so worn down, so exhausted, so past trying to fix himself. He cast his eyes back to the open road, eating the miles up one after another. So he was broken. So he was pretty sure he’d only love one woman for the rest of his life and she was long gone. At least he’d bothered, given the whole love thing a try. It wasn’t for him. None of it was. The sooner he got that through his head, the fast he could actually try and move on with his life.
Chapter 2
Motherhood
Savannah
“Are you ready to go, Savannah? If we don’t leave within five minutes we’re going to be late.”
Savannah Fiacco barely resisted the urge to roll her tired, red rimmed eyes. Her mother, born in Italy, still had a thick accent. She loved her mom to death, but when she was stressed or irritated, that accent got mighty thick and her voice became a little shrill. It grated on Savannah’s already raw nerves.
“Coming,” she called down the stairs. She knew her voice would travel out of her room, through the hall and down the stairs to where her mother was clearly waiting. She’d done the same thing ever since Savannah was a kid. Always calling, calling calling, from the bottom of those damn stairs.
“Three minutes.”
Savannah ground her teeth together in an effort to keep her patience. It was already shredded, seeing as Carter saw fit to remain awake, screaming, most of the night. It wouldn’t have been so bad, had he not pulled the same act for the past six nights in a row. Or was it seven? Eight? She’d lost count.
“There you go, baby boy.” Savannah’s irritation vanished when she stared into her son’s deep brown eyes. He had the rich dark skin she had, always bronzed, with an olive undertone. His hair was jet black, like hers. She’d nearly destroyed it by dying it blonde. She’d probably lost at least six inches to breakage after she dyed it back to her natural color, but it grew out nicely, one of the only bonus side effects of pregnancy.
At the moment, her usually glossy hair hung almost to her waist in unbrushed clumps. The roots were oily, a fact which she could do nothing about at the moment. She had about five minutes for a shower or quick bath lately and that didn’t include the luxury of actually washing her hair.
Carter Fiacco smiled up at her, waving a pudgy hand in the air. He cooed something, some baby language, which melted her heart.
“Next time we’re just about out the door, promise mommy you’re not going to poop your pants. No doctor wants to give you a checkup when you smell like something died in there.”
She received another huge, drool filled smile in response. Because she knew her mother would literally be pacing by now, likely in the same one foot square at the bottom of the staircase, she reached down, grabbed up her son and hoisted him onto her shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have your days and nights mixed up. We have to get ourselves on a schedule, me and you. No more keeping mommy up all night. It’s just about killing me.”
Carter babbled away in her ear, clearly uncaring that she was dead tired. Didn’t all babies though? She was sure she wasn’t the only underfed, overt
ired, unkempt mother out there. To think that a year ago she was going out to clubs and parties, living up her freshly found freedom after graduating high school. She had long, fake blonde hair, manicured nails, high heels, skin tight jeans, too short shirts, and a fake ID. Now, now what did she have?
Everything. I have everything.
Her smile was wide and genuine as she picked her way carefully down the stairs. Her mother, spotting her, let out an exasperated sigh. “How long does it take to change one simple diaper?”
“It wasn’t simple, I promise you that.” She handed Carter over to her mother. Gianna took him, bouncing him happily, naturally, onto her shoulder. She’d always wanted more than one child. Savannah heard that enough throughout her lifetime, though she’d never fully been told why she was an only child. She’d never fully comprehended the pain of that until she became a mother herself. Gianna, though she often pretended otherwise, was very happy Carter was a member of the family.
“I’ll put him in his car seat and then we’ll go, yes?”
“Yes. I just have to grab the diaper bag out of the kitchen.”
“I filled up the formula bottles with water. Don’t worry, I sterilized them all. The formula is packed, extra diapers, wipes, soother.” Gianna rattled off the checklist and Savannah sighed in relief.
“Thanks, mom.”
Her mother nodded, all the usual judgment and condemnation filling up her dark eyes. Savannah walked off towards the kitchen, pretending not to notice. It wasn’t that her mother and father didn’t love Carter. They adored their grandson. It had everything to do with the fact that no Italian parents, hell, no parents in general, wanted their daughter to tell them that she was pregnant at twenty years old. Worse, she was unmarried and refused to tell them who the father was. She’d said she didn’t know. She’d lied.
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