So, I did what I thought was for the best. I somehow got myself dressed and stumbled from the room. I liked to think it was somewhat elegant, but the reality of it was that I’d drank half a bottle of Macallan, so I probably bounced off each wall as I made my way toward the door.
I’m sure I must have woken him up in the process, but that he decided to keep his mouth shut. After all, it would stop him from having to deal with the awkwardness that was inevitable this morning when we woke and he thanked me for a great night before walking away without a second thought. Or even worse, him sneaking out before I woke.
I know what I was to him. A one-night stand. If he was interested in anything else then he wouldn’t have taken me straight to a hotel room. He’d have brought me home, given me a kiss to remember him by and asked me out on a date. But he didn’t. He got me to the closest bed and allowed me to dive headfirst into the perfect distraction. Alcohol and sex.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Harlow?” Bailey’s voice calls through the house seconds after the front door slams shut.
I wasn’t surprised to find it empty when the taxi dropped me off sometime before dawn. Bailey makes a hobby out of spending her weekends in anyone’s bed but her own.
Her footsteps thunder up the stairs as she calls out again, and I know my solitude is coming to an end.
I rush to wipe the tears from my cheeks, expecting her to come crashing in at any moment. I don’t think for a second that it’ll cover up the fact that I’ve been crying. I’m sure my red-rimmed eyes will tell her everything in a flash.
She gets closer before the door handle twists and she pokes her head inside.
“Here she is. Did you have a—Fuck, what’s wrong?” She races over, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her brows pulled together as she looks over my face, trying to find signs for why I’m so upset.
I blow out a breath as I try to figure out how to answer that question. Bailey has been by my side through everything, she knows all my dark and dirty secrets, but watching it is very different to actually experiencing it. She tries to understand, but it’s hard. She can tell me all she likes that things are different now, that I’m different, but it’s hard to believe it when I fall back into old habits like last night.
“N-nothing. I’m just regretting last night.”
“Do not tell me that he was bad in bed. That man screams sex god. If you tell me that my sex-o-meter is off, I’m going to be seriously pissed.”
“No, it’s not that. He was…” Her eyes widen in excitement. “Fine. I just shouldn’t have done it.”
She moves after a second and sits on the floor with her back against the wall.
“Why not? You deserve to have some fun. And it’s not like you did it with some random guy who was only interested in one thing.”
“Didn’t I? I feel like I’ve just taken five giant steps back.”
“Harlow, stop,” she begs. “This is nothing like that. You are not that person anymore.”
“I had a one-night stand in a hotel, B.”
“You’re making it sound like you did something seedy. You didn’t. Corey wasn’t just some random guy, and he clearly didn’t just want to get his leg over and move on.”
“How’d you figure that out?” I ask, interrupting her.
“Because he was at that bar thirty minutes after I messaged him. He wanted to see you again, even though you ran out on him the night before. If he only wanted a quick roll in the sheets, I’m sure there would have been some hussy he could have picked up without the threat of being kicked to the curb once again.”
“I guess.”
“There’s no ‘I guess’ here. He wanted you. He jumped at the opportunity of a second chance.”
“But he took me to the closest hotel with only one thing in mind.”
“So? There could be a million reasons why he didn’t take you elsewhere. He might live with his mother or something.” I raise a brow at her. “Okay, yeah, he doesn’t seem like a mommy’s boy, but you never know.”
“So what are you suggesting here exactly?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t write him off. Call him, see if he wants to meet up again.”
“No, I don’t think—”
“Don’t forget him before you have any solid evidence, H. He could be the one.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“You didn’t let me finish… he could be the one to help remind you how good men can be.”
I bark out a laugh and flick some bubbles at her when she stands and steps toward the door.
“I’m just saying, have an open mind. He might be the one, or he might not be. Everything happens for a reason. You fell into him for a reason.”
She slips from the room, leaving me with that little bit of advice to dwell on.
I sink back into the rapidly cooling water and close my eyes. My head spins with everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. I should be focusing on my aunt right now, not have my head in the clouds over some Brit with a body built for sin.
By the time I emerge from the bathtub, the bubbles have long disappeared, and the water is uncomfortably cold.
I remove what’s left of last night’s make-up and cover myself in my favorite body lotion in an attempt to perk myself up a little before making my way back to my room.
I pull on a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie with the intention of spending the day chilling out in front of the TV and hopefully catching up on some much-needed sleep.
As I descend the stairs, the familiar sizzle of frying bacon hits my ears seconds before the smell surrounds me. My mouth waters and I pick up my pace a little.
“Hungry?” she asks when I join her in the kitchen and pull out a bottle of orange juice from the fridge.
“Starved.”
“That would be all the exercise you had.” My cheeks heat despite the fact that she’s not looking at me.
“Hmm…” I mumble, pouring us both a drink and taking a seat at our table.
Bailey finishes up our sandwiches before placing a plate down in front of me.
“You do know that you’re not getting away with it, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say with a mouthful of delicious salty, smoked bacon.
“I want all the details from last night.”
“I already told you, it was good. Fun… while it lasted.”
“Oh come on, you need to give me more than that.”
“He was…” I pause to think of the right word. “Mind-blowing.”
She stares at me for a beat, and I can almost see the excitement building behind her eyes.
“You rode him all night long, didn’t you?”
My face flames red. I already know the answer is written all over it, however that doesn’t stop me from muttering a response. “Might have.”
“Yes, get in there, girl!”
“What about you?” I ask, turning this on her, not wanting to give her a play by play of my regretful evening. “You’ve only just got in, how was your night?”
“It was fine.” I narrow my eyes at her. It’s so unlike her to withhold any details about her conquests.
“It was fine? Wow, he must have really rocked your world. Was it the guy you were dancing with?”
“No, he disappeared not long after you left. It was just some guy. There won’t be a repeat.”
“When is there?” I ask, pushing my now empty plate away from me.
She shrugs, totally unfazed by her behavior.
“So have you decided if you’re going to call him?”
I open my mouth to respond but soon discover that I don’t have the answer, at least not the one she wants to hear.
“I’m going to lie down. Leave the washing up, I’ll do it later.”
“That’s it,” she says as I leave the room. “Run away.” Her voice is light, but I can’t help wondering how true her words are.
She ignores my parting words, because
by the time I get to the top of the stairs, she’s crashing around in the kitchen, tidying up.
I don’t make it to my bed. Instead, I come to a stop at my dressing table and fall down onto my stool as I stare at the photograph of me standing with my parents and little sister when I was a kid.
Reaching out, I run my fingertip over each of them. I desperately try to remember what it was actually like to touch them, how warm their skin was, how they smelled, what their voices sounded like. Some days it feels like only yesterday they were taken from me, but others I almost feel like I’ve lived my entire life without them.
My eyes drift to the frame slightly behind them of my aunt and me the day I graduated college—something I never thought I’d be able achieve during my last few years at high school. She was the only one who was able to break through the dark haze I was drowning in and make me look forward. I’ll forever be grateful for what she gave me.
I blow out a breath, making the piece of paper stuck to my mirror flutter. I stare at the drawing I did so long ago.
“Today could be the day, you know.” I didn’t hear her join me, so the sound of Bailey’s voice startles me.
I look over at her to find her resting her hip against the doorframe with her arms over her chest.
“Maybe,” I say, but it’s sarcastic at best.
“You should go and see Sledge.”
“Who the fuck is Sledge?”
“The guy who inked Colton and Rylee.”
“You are aware that they’re going to take a restraining order out on you soon, right?”
“Ha ha, you’re funny. I wasn’t at the window watching or anything. Rylee was telling me about it at work one day. I’ll message you the address in case you get brave.”
“Thank you.” I’m not sure if I’m actually grateful or not. I know that I should either pluck up the courage and do it or forget about it. Maybe having this address sitting on my cell will be the kick up the ass I need.
Deciding against lazing in bed all day, I pull my hoodie off, remove my leggings and open my closet. I grab the first thing I put my hand on, a black t-shirt dress, and pull it over my head.
After running my fingers through my now dry hair, I grab my purse from the dresser and slip my feet into my flip-flops. At the last minute, I turn and pull my sketch from the mirror, just in case Bailey is right.
“I’m going out,” I say as I pass Bailey’s door.
“Do you want company?”
“No, I need to clear my head.”
“Okay, have fun.”
I climb into my car and sync my cell the second the engine comes to life. The music is still on low after my devastating drive home from my aunt’s yesterday.
Jesus, how was that only yesterday?
Grabbing my cell, I quickly shoot my aunt a text to check in with her before turning the volume up. I back off the driveway and press my foot on the accelerator.
I don’t have a destination in mind, I just intend to drive until I feel the need to return home once again, but I’m not surprised when I pull up to a parking lot that I’ve become very familiar with over the years.
Ignoring the benches, I walk up to the top of the hill and drop onto the grass.
This is my happy place. The spot I come to when things in the town below get too much. All I can hear is the sound of birdsong and the very faint crashing of waves in the distance.
Lying back, I close my eyes and allow the afternoon sun to warm my skin.
I think back to last night and how easily I followed Corey to that hotel and cringe at my behavior. Here I am, trying to prove that I left that kind of life behind me, yet one suggestion of a good night and I follow his lead like he’s the fucking pied piper.
My stomach clenches uncomfortably. I’ve spent years finding other outlets to help me deal with everything that happened, but one threat of losing another person I love, and I fall straight back into old ways.
I hate myself for it. It doesn’t matter how many times Bailey tells me that it’s different, that I’m different. I still feel the same as I used to back then after making yet another bad decision.
Children playing somewhere in the distance force me to sit up. I look down the hill slightly to see them running around and laughing. The sight is like a baseball bat to the chest.
This place is where my parents used to bring us to play. We learned to ride our bikes without training wheels here, we flew our kites, and it was where we’d spend hours chasing butterflies.
I sigh as tears burn the back of my eyes. There are so many memories of them in this town that I’ve often wondered if I should have left, if it would have made it any easier. But then I think of Bailey and her parents, and my aunt. I could never leave them.
Without any family to take me in, I found myself being bounced around foster families and group homes after I lost them.
Each one was worse than the last. I assumed it was karma. It was my fault they’d died that day, so it was the universe punishing me for being so selfish.
My final family were totally different to any I’d experienced before, and I had no idea how to handle it. I’d left behind the ones who only cared about the money they got for taking in an orphan and found myself inside a loving one, which, for some fucked up reason, genuinely wanted me there.
I couldn’t believe it the day I was dropped off to find this lovely house with seemingly happy and normal parents. There had to be a catch. I’d spent the past few years in Hell—there was always a catch.
But I was welcomed into their family as if I were their own and shown to a bedroom bigger than I’d experienced in a lot of years. It was unbelievable, but I couldn’t handle it.
To this day, I’ve no idea why they put up with me. They did everything they could for me, but I pushed back at every opportunity. I’d skip school and end up being returned by the police when they found me off my ass drunk somewhere. I’d climb from my bedroom window to escape to find a distraction I so desperately craved. I was the teenager from Hell, I know that, but they stood by me, and Bailey and I struck up a sisterly bond that to this day hasn’t been broken. We are the most unlikely of friends, but she’s seen me at my darkest, and, just like her parents, she never let me go. For that I’ll forever be grateful.
The light wind blows and movement at my feet catches my eye. Reaching out, I pull the dandelion from the ground and hold it up in front of me, inspecting the seeds.
Sucking in a deep breath, I purse my lips and blow. The seeds are immediately released and dance off into the warm afternoon air, floating away to find a new life elsewhere.
My heart clenches at the same time my cell pings.
Pulling it from my purse, I find Bailey’s name staring back at me. How does she always know?
If you need me, call me x
Scrolling up slightly, I find the address she promised to send me.
Could I?
Her words from earlier come back to me. “Today could be the day, you know.”
Placing my cell back into my purse, I stand. After taking one last look around and breathing in the fresh air, I head back to my car.
The address is for the other side of town. I’ve no idea if they’re open or where exactly it is, so I decide that while I’ve got nothing better to do, I’ll have a little road trip before going home and getting another grilling from Bailey.
I stop off at a coffee place and grab myself an afternoon snack and one very strong cappuccino that will hopefully help keep me awake before I carry on.
When I get closer, I put the address into the GPS and allow it to guide me to my destination.
It has me pulling into a dark and dingy parking lot which looks less than appealing, but as I drive around, I spot the neon light from the studio in the distance.
Something flutters in my stomach, but I’ve no idea if it’s nerves or excitement.
After killing the engine, I sit there staring at the tattoo parlor for the longest time. I know where it is now—I could leave, k
nowing that one day when I feel ready I could return.
But that isn’t what happens. Instead I find myself pushing the door open and stepping out. I look around, feeling a little uneasy about the parking lot, before making my way toward the glowing sign. It looks familiar somehow, but I’ve no idea where I might have seen it before.
A few doors down there’s a bar. The temptation to go and get a drink to give me a little courage is strong. That’s exactly what the old me would have done.
I tell myself that I’m stronger, that all I’m going to do is go in and ask about the possibility of getting an appointment.
As I get closer, a pink Open sign glows, putting an end to any chance I had of not being able to go inside.
Sucking in a huge breath, I push the heavy door open. A bell chimes, alerting whoever is here that I’ve joined them.
As nerves assault me, I glance around the space. There are huge black couches in the center of the room with an elaborate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the light casting unique shadows around the walls that are covered in ink designs. But they’re not like the ones I’ve seen before. There are no simple love hearts, or images of Tigger. It’s artwork. I take a step toward one of the walls, my eyes not knowing which bit to focus on first as a heavy pair of footsteps approaches me.
When I turn around, I find a middle-aged man with close-cropped hair and quite possibly the biggest beard I’ve ever seen.
“Afternoon, how can I help you?” There’s something in his voice that relaxes me immediately.
“Um… I’d like to see about getting a tattoo.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” He winks at me, and the twinkle in his eye makes me smile.
“I’ve got a little time now if you’d like to discuss your plans.”
I start to believe that I can do this, that he’ll be able to keep me relaxed enough to go through with something I’ve spent years dreaming about.
But then everything changes.
“Don’t even think about taking her back to your room, Sledge.” I can’t see him, but that doesn’t mean that my body doesn’t immediately know who the voice belongs to.
Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Page 8
