His eyes bored into mine.
“I want that shit for myself. And I want that shit with you.” He was utterly still, and that stillness, the quiet intensity in his deep voice made his words hit me all the harder, like a comet smashing into earth. “I want that shit with you, and I am willin’ to do whatever the fuck it takes to be the man you deserve. To be good. For you, for us. So I can fulfill you. I’ll do that shit, Cass.”
Tears, fucking tears. Lump in my throat. Ache in my chest. Can’t breathe. Can’t swallow. Can’t make my limbs or fingers or brain or mouth or anything work. Just paralyzed.
“I don’t believe in falling in love, Cassandra.” A pause, fraught and significant. “I ain’t fallen in love with you.”
Another pause. I tried to digest what he was saying. “Ink…” a broken whisper.
“I believe love grows. It’s built. It ain’t a fuckin’ accident. What is it my cousin’s teenage kids say all the time? I caught feelings for you. That was an accident. I didn’t mean for that shit to happen. Feelings come and go, though. I coulda stayed shut down, coulda taken the progress you helped me make and walked. I got offers from tattoo parlors all over the world. I could move to Tahiti and do tattoos full-time. Anywhere. I don’t gotta be here.” A shake of his head. “But I am here. I’m with you. I’m facin’ my shit and saying the hard things, the hard fuckin’ truths, scared out of my mind you won’t get it, you won’t agree. Because I choose—I choose—to build a love with you. To grow a love with you.”
“Fucking hell, Ink.” The world was blurred through a screen of tears.
“All that bein’ said, babe.” Big rough fingers brushed my tears away. “What do you want?”
I shook my head. “I don’t fucking know!”
“I ain’t askin’ you to have all the answers now, Cass. I’m just asking you to be willing to actually look.”
My leg ached. Throbbed. Burned.
So did my heart.
I felt anger. Unreasoning anger, unrealistic, irrational. At him. At myself. At life. At god or fate, or luck. At Rick. At the lorry driver who ran the light. At him. At Ink. Because he was saying shit that scared me into the kind of irrational fear that became anger.
I was ready for hot sex, with feelings.
I was okay having caught some feelings for this man.
That’s fine.
But love?
I wasn’t ready for love. It’s too soon for love. Because love requires commitment. Honesty. Vulnerability…
God, all the shit he said.
I was not ready for that.
I wanted to be.
I wanted him.
If I was going to have that, I wanted it with him.
But I was too scared. Too paralyzed by fear of…
See, I can’t go there. My head shuts down. What am I so afraid of? I can’t even face that.
So, instead of handling it like a grown-up, like a mature woman, I watched myself act like an idiot child. Like a hormonal teenager.
Lashing out. At Ink. The one who least deserved it.
“Go to hell, Ink.”
I heard the words. And I immediately realized the stupidity in them, the unfairness in them. I heard the bitterness in my own voice. Heard the irrational panic, felt it, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he saw it and heard it, too.
He understood exactly what was going on with me.
He probably knew this is how I’d react.
Damned insightful motherfucker.
He knew.
And he still had the balls to speak his truth.
Instead of taking a moment—a rational, quiet moment—my sad, confused broken heart had taken over, and I was unable to stop myself from acting the way I was acting. And, believe me, I tried. I tried to tell myself to turn around and say sorry and kiss him and tell him I’d figure it out. I wanted to promise him that I would do what I needed to do, because I wanted to grow a love with him, too.
But I didn’t do any of that.
I just couldn’t.
My brain knew better. My body sure as hell knew better.
But my heart? No way.
My heart told me to get off the bed, go down the ladder, and out the door.
Ink
I watched her leave, again, and my heart broke.
Not for me.
For her.
I’d known, deep down, that she wasn’t going to take my honesty well, yet I still said what was in my heart.
I’m upset and hurt.
I’m hurting for me.
Because that—that was rejection.
I slid out of bed, knowing I couldn’t sleep anymore.
I had to get out of this place for a bit.
I wasn’t sure where I was going. My feet wanted to take me to where I knew she was, but I couldn’t do that. She had to figure herself out. I couldn’t do it for her. I knew I was right. I knew she was avoiding figuring herself out, and if I let her use me as a distraction, she never would. And it would fester. And, eventually, she’d resent me.
I knew, deep in my heart, that I had to put the truth out there, and accept the consequences.
And consequences can really suck.
A few minutes later I found myself at the door of the apartment building where Juneau and Remington lived. I knew it was late but I pressed the buzzer anyway.
A pause.
“It’s one thirty in the goddamn morning.” I heard Remington’s sleepy, irritated growl. “Who the fuck is it and what the fuck do you want?”
“Sorry, Rem,” I murmured. “It’s Ink. I—”
“Shit, sorry brother,” he cut in the moment he heard my voice. “Come on up.”
The door buzzed and I padded up the stairs to the third floor, and saw Juneau standing in their open apartment door, waiting for me. She was dressed in a short black silk robe. Barely covering anything. But she was my cousin, and I wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest.
I leaned down to hug her. “June Bug.”
She breathed me in, rubbed my back. “Ink.” She pulled back, grabbed my hand, and led me inside. She closed the door and pushed me toward the couch. “What’s wrong?”
Rem was leaning a shoulder against the hallway wall, watching, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers—all muscle and tattoos, a ripped IG model/trainer physique covered in gorgeous ink. “Sorry about the shitty welcome, Ink. Don’t like getting woke up.”
I waved at him, dismissing his apology. “I wouldn’t be here like this but I’m just…”
Juneau was bustling in the kitchen. Pulling something out of the fridge, stuffing it into the microwave, beeping it into humming life, waiting—when it dinged, she brought me a glass container full of my aunt’s incredible elk stew. “Here. Talk and eat.”
I laughed. “You know me too well, June Bug.” I took a few bites, savoring the flavors. “Thanks, cuz.”
A few more bites.
Juneau sighed. “It’s Lucas’s girlfriend’s daughter, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Cassie.”
Juneau sat beside me, tugging futilely at the hem of her stupid little robe. “Did she hurt you?”
I laughed, bitterly. “It’s complicated.”
“If she hurt you, I’ll kill her. You know I’m not a violent person, but you’ve been through enough.”
I reached up behind me and grabbed the knitted throw blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over Juneau’s lap. “I must’ve interrupted somethin’,” I muttered, “you dressed like that.”
She ducked her head, but was grinning like a fox leaving an unguarded henhouse. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Nah,” Remington said. Then chuckled. “We were between rounds.”
Juneau threw a pillow at him. “Remington Badd! Don’t be gross.”
I just laughed. “You’re in love. It ain’t gross. You’re my cousin, so I don’t need details, but it don’t bother me. Just glad I didn’t interrupt you in the middle of something.”
Another l
augh from Rem. “Don’t worry, bub. I wouldn’t have stopped.”
Juneau watched me eat. “What’s going on, Ink?”
“It’s kind of a long story, and I hate bothering you guys with it.”
Remington sat on the arm of the couch, rested a hand on Juneau’s nape. “Nah, bro. Tell us.”
I looked from one to the other. “It’s…a lot.”
Juneau rubbed my shoulder. “Ink, you’ve been there for me my whole life. It’s largely because of you that I’m living my dream of being a tattoo artist. You challenged me and encouraged me and pushed me and provoked me and counseled me, and then Rem came along and he was the last catalyst I needed to live my truth.” She leaned against me, her head on my bicep. “My point is that now it’s my turn to be there for you.”
I nodded. “Okay, well…I guess you probably need the whole story.”
So, I started at the beginning, telling her the things I think she’d long suspected and guessed at. Then I told her about Cassie, how things had developed, leaving out the details they didn’t need and which I wasn’t about to share, cousin or no cousin.
Juneau and Remington listened attentively, asking questions here and there. Finally, when I was done, Remington got up and paced the living room a few times. Then sat down again, picking at a hangnail and not looking at me.
“Ink, I gotta be real with you, bro.”
“Always,” I said.
“I think what you told her was true, and right. But I think she just needed you to give her space and time to figure it out on her own. I think maybe you were a bit…harsh.”
I sighed. “June Bug?”
She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t know. It sounds like she is avoiding things. But I guess what Rem is saying is that maybe you guys could have figured out the way forward without having to drop the hammer.”
I hung my head. “Shit. So what the hell do I do now?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Ink, you’re right about everything you said to her, and I bet one day she’ll thank you for your honesty. But she just had her whole life turned the fuck upside down, and she had already taken off once before, so maybe you coulda been a little more understanding about that.” Rem shrugged. “What do you want to do now?”
“Go find her and…fix things.”
“Except you can’t, can you?” Juneau smiled at me, not quite sadly. “And that’s the point. I think you need to give her time. In the meantime, make it clear to her that you care about her and you’re here, waiting for her. No rush, no pressure, no expectations.”
“I thought I’d done that.”
Remington snorted. “Yeah, well, that kinda thing sorta bears repeating, in situations like this. She’s probably hurt and pissed off, and maybe isn’t remembering the good shit you said.”
I ran my fingers through my beard. “I’m no good at this.”
“Who is?” Juneau asked. “I’m sure as hell not.”
“No one is good at this,” Rem said. “You just muddle through it best you can and hope to hell the person you’re diggin’ on don’t break your fuckin’ heart to pieces in the process.”
I looked from him to her. “So that’s what you’re doing? Muddling through?”
Juneau smiled at me. “After a while, you learn to trust. Not just the person, but the relationship. It’s still scary.” She glanced at Remington. “He could still decide he wants someone skinnier, taller, blonder. He could decide he’s bored with me. He could decide a lot of things. He could just get drunk and bang somebody. I could tell him I’m pregnant and he could panic and run. All of that is possible. But I choose to trust him. Rem has shown me that he loves me. That he wants me, and only me. That this thing between us is beautiful and real and lasting.”
Remington tugged on her hair. “Babe, I know you were sayin’ all that shit for emphasis, but…don’t. I don’t want anybody skinnier or taller or blonder. I couldn’t get bored of you if I spent a million years with you. And even drunk, I would never want anyone but you.” He frowned. “You’re not pregnant…are you? If you are, I’m not panicking.”
She just laughed. “No, babe, I’m not pregnant. But if you do what you did a little while ago, I will be.”
“We used a condom,” he protested. “Mostly.”
She just laughed and patted his cheek. “Yes, darling. But it’s the other side of mostly where you get unexpected babies.” She tugged on his beard. “But babe, if I got pregnant, I wouldn’t be mad. I’m not ready to actively try, but if it happens, I’ll be happy.”
He sighed. “Me too. Not looking for it, but wouldn’t freak out.” He laughed. “Well, maybe I’d freak out a little. But I wouldn’t run.”
I just watched this back and forth between them. “So.”
They glanced at me, and Juneau smirked. “Sorry, cousin.”
I laughed. “Why don’t I let you two get back to sort of, not really, but kind of, maybe, possibly making babies. I got some thinkin’ to do.”
Remington wasn’t super quick to argue.
Juneau frowned at me. “You can sleep here on the couch, if you want.”
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m okay. Just puzzling on this. Thanks for listening.”
I got up, put my bowl in the sink, hugged Juneau and did the manly half-handshake-half-hug thing with Remington. I left their apartment, and let my feet carry me.
It was no big surprise that I ended up at Liv’s condo complex. Not sure why. It was near three in the morning. She was asleep. Her mom was asleep. I wasn’t about to wake them up.
Yet my feet carried me to the correct building. To the steps. I sat on the steps outside the door, staring at the stars, wondering at myself, my life. Wondering if I’d done the right thing, or the wrong thing, or the right thing in the wrong way.
At some point, I fell asleep.
I was woken by a door smacking me in the head. “OhmygoshI’msorry,” I heard a familiar voice say, as I rubbed my head. “Oh, Ink. It’s you.” I blinked blearily up at Liv Goode, Cassie’s mom.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
She knelt and poked my head with motherly concern. “Are you okay? I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.”
“Nah, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here. I was just…” I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t finish.
She moved to sit on the step next to me. “Cassie came home pretty upset.”
I growled. “My fault. I was misguided. Meant the right thing, but didn’t go about it the right way.”
She looked me over. “You’re half-naked. Aren’t you cold?”
I chuckled. “Nah, ma’am. I don’t get cold. I don’t like clothes all that much, so this is about as dressed as I tend to get.”
She blinked at me. “You’re not even wearing shoes.”
“Nah.”
“You walked here?”
I nodded. “Sure. Don’t got a workin’ car.”
“Barefoot?”
I brought my foot up to show the bottom of my foot, which was thickly callused. “I could step on a fu—on a nail, and not really feel it. Been barefoot my whole life.” I laughed. “Matter of fact, I own a pair of winter boots for when the snow is real deep, and a pair of flip-flops, and a pair of hiking boots for hunting and shit—stuff, I mean. Sorry.”
She just patted my shoulder. “I’m dating Lucas Badd. If you think curse words bother me, then you’ve clearly never met a Badd.”
I snickered. “Yeah, they’re a potty mouth crew. I ain’t much better.”
“I raised my daughters to be ladies, but I’m afraid it hasn’t entirely taken for some of them.” She sniffed, but it was meant in jest, I could tell.
“Ain’t met none of the others, but Cassie is all lady. Salty language don’t make her not a lady. Sometimes a curse word just fits.”
She sighed. “Yes, and being in a relationship with a man with a mouth like Lucas’s has not done wonderful things for my own desire to avoid strong language.”
I laughed. “I bet.�
� I looked at Liv. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Liv snorted. “She wasn’t hurt so much as angry. ‘How dare he’ and ‘who does he think he is?’ That kind of thing.” She patted my shoulder again. “But she’s thinking, now, so perhaps it was what she needed to get her really putting effort into working out what she wants for herself.”
“I just…I care about her. And I felt like she was…using me, I guess, as a way of avoiding it. And I didn’t want that for her.”
Liv nodded. “I understand. And, like I said, as much as she didn’t like it, it did work, in that it has her really thinking about things.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Some advice from her mother?”
“Please,” I said.
“Give her time. Once her temper is up, it’s slow coming down, and she’s not always very quick to listen to reason, or be rational when she’s angry. But once she comes down and has gotten her anger out, she works things through in her head. So just…give her time.” She tilted her head, eying me. “You care about her?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You love her?”
I sighed. “Don’t know that I’ve ever really been in love. So I ain’t sure I can…wrap it up in those terms. What I told her is, I don’t believe in falling in love. I believe in intentionally growing love. So I can say I want to be with her, to grow a relationship with her. And that’s why I wanted to see her not use me as an avoidance mechanism—’cause if she’s doing that, any relationship we have wouldn’t be…what it could be or should be. Because she wouldn’t be who she could be. I don’t know how to put it any better than that.”
For A Goode Time Call... Page 18
