Page 82 of Ink

Ink rolls his eyes, ignoring Evan. “I’m not wearing a bell like a fuckin’ dog. Tell me what?” he asks again.

“That’s my cue to leave.” Evan grabs her empty glass as she gets up. Once she’s out of Ink’s view, she shoots me a thumbs up while nodding her head aggressively and mouths, “Good luck.”

Traitor.

“Are you sleeping here tonight?” I ask, impressed with how composed I sound because inside I’m nervous as all get out. Ink says nothing as he studies me from the spot he hasn’t moved from. “Want to talk about it upstairs?” I try again. I really don’t want to have this conversation where anyone can walk in or be listening.

Eventually, he nods his head, flicking his wrist out toward the stairs in a gesture that tells me to get up there now.

I see grumpy Ink is back.

“Why do you seem mad at me?” I ask once we’re in my room.

Ink stops his pacing and whips around to face me. “Because I know you’re about to tell me somethin’ that you know you should have told me the second it happened and that, bunny, pisses me the fuck off.”

“How am I supposed to know what will upset you? Everything sets you off!”

“Maybe it’s about time you clued the fuck in.”

My brows raise in shock. “Excuse me?”

Ink pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just spit it out. I’m tryin’ real hard to not lose it with you.”

This is him trying hard? It seems like he’s already well on his way to losing it.

“Maybe you should sit down,” I try, thinking this would calm him down a little.

“Sutton.” Ink bites out, not moving to sit down like I suggested.

Here goes nothing, I guess. “I got a note the other day.”

“What kind of note?”

“The bad kind…?” I trail off, squinting my eyes as I raise a shoulder.

“Do you not know?” I can tell he’s losing what little patience he’s holding on to and quick.

“I haven’t read it,” I admit. It was easier for me to disassociate from the note if I acted like it didn’t exist. Stupid, I know.

“Then how do you know it’s bad?”

“I took a wild guess because I saw the letterhead and it’s Zach’s firm.” No one else would send me a note. I didn’t exactly make any friends while working there.

“Where’s it at?”

I tilt my head as I think about where I last put it. “In the pocket of my pants that I wore the other day. I haven’t done laundry yet.”

Which reminds me, I need to ask Evan if it would be okay if I used her washer and dryer.

Ink moves toward the small pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room.

“I’ll find it,” I say as I rush over there, beating him to it. The last thing I want is for him going through my dirty clothes. It gives me the ick.

I can feel the tension radiating off of Ink and clouding the room, making it hard to breathe as I look through pockets until I find the folded-up piece of paper.

A tattooed covered hand reaches over my shoulder and snatches the note out of my hands before I have the chance to open and read it.

“Hey! It wouldn’t kill you to wait a second and let me read it first.”