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Chapter twelve
Kellan
Now
“Takeyourtime,”afeminine voice sounded from the front of the shop, and I paused with my sandwich poised just before my lips. I had back-to-back appointments all day, and this was the first time I had a chance to grab a bite to eat so I’d had a mouth full of the delicious bread when the door swung open, a fresh gust of the summer breeze following in after them.
But that voice, I would recognize it anywhere. I still heard it in my dreams, pictured her sweet amber eyes gazing back at me every morning just before my eyelids fluttered open. But she was never there, the other side of the bed still cold, the sheets missing her lilac scent. My fingers itched to push her long dirty-blonde hair from her face, letting me see her perfect cheekbones and luscious lips, an artist’s dream honestly. But when those lips curved into the most delicious scintillating smile, that was when the work of art became a masterpiece.
My breath caught in my throat and my pulse became a rapid fluttering in my neck.Would she look the same as she had six years ago? Would the inner light be shining through as a result of her new life or had that monster broken my little devil, fallen from heaven?I placed the sandwich back down, the thought of eating now turning my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to draw back that curtain to sweep her into my arms like I had so many times before. But six years of distance stretched between us…
So I stood from the small workbench and gripped the side of the black curtain, each second stretching on like an eternity. I craved to see her again but so much had happened. She left with him of all people, and everything we’d worked for came crashing down around us in one day—one day she was there in my arms, fulfilling my greatest dreams, lighting my soul up like she always had, and the next she was gone.
I drew in a deep breath, steeling myself for the next moment when I would finally come face to face with the woman who crushed my heart. I slid the drape open, the afternoon sunlight beaming in through the wide-open windows, drenching the woman that stood at my counter in the bright light. My eyes scanned over every inch of her, drinking in the sight as though I’d been starved. Her dirty-blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place, and her cheeks looked gaunter than they had before. Hands clenched at my sides, and my mind raced to fill in conclusions of how this could have happened. Had he made her not eat as much, or was the stress of that life eating her away from the inside?
I pushed that thought from my mind, not wanting to get ahead of myself. I had no idea if she was even unhappy but my heart screamed that it was the truth. Because despite her being swathed in the sunlight as she had been in the picture she was now holding clutched in her palm, that sparkle she had once had, was gone, snuffed out for one reason or another.
Her full lips pulled down into a sad nostalgic smile, the too-large sunglasses masking her face, hiding away her true feelings from me. My hands itched to take them from her face so my eyes could trace every inch of her, unhindered. When I had looked into her eyes before, it was as though I could read every thought like pages of a book. I wondered if it would be the same now. If I even could after all this time. But I knew I would because even though she’d been gone, she never truly left my heart. She was with me every day, haunting me with the goodbye I never got and all the words left unsaid. Like a ghost she was there one minute and gone the next, her presence never leaving my side, even when her physical form had fled.
Her hand flew to her mouth, attempting to hold back the sob that escaped her lips, but I still heard it. My mind scrambled with everything I thought I knew, everything I assumed battling for supremacy. I began to reach out to her, needing to wrap tightly around her to comfort her and soothe the pain and sorrow that twisted her lips. Her sunglasses slipped down her nose slightly, giving me the briefest glimpse of her eyes, moisture flooding them as she blinked back the tears.
“Giana,” I breathed, my arms dropping to my side, and I internally scolded myself for how close it sounded to a prayer that had just been answered. Especially when the picture slipped from her fingers, cracks running along the glass like a reflection of the ones that had been there ever since she left, festering like an old wound refusing to heal. Her face blanched as though she’d been so consumed by the drawing, her mind hadn’t fully pieced together that this was my shop, that it was me behind the curtain. Her lips parted in shock as she stared back at me, and she hurriedly pushed her glasses back up, covering what little glimpse I had at her amber eyes behind them.
She squared her shoulders as though the tension vibrating there now pulled them taut. I had to keep her here, keep her talking because right now it looked like she was about to bolt any second. But what was I supposed to say, after all this time, after how she left, and who she left with? The blow she dealt to my heart was still gaping. What could I say to keep her here? What could dull the ache still pulsing in my chest?
“Are you here for a tattoo finally?” I asked, attempting to keep my tone casual but even I recognized the note of panic that rang there. I wanted to slap my palm over my face at that comment and retreat to my backroom, but my momentary embarrassment fled at the snort of laughter that erupted from her. I smiled as I pushed the pain from my mind and focused on the here and now. Because she was standing right in front of me—she may be a ghost of herself, but maybe if I could get her to stay …
“Kellan,” she breathed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. The sound of my name on her lips made me want to pull her into my chest like no time had passed.But it has, I reminded myself. Her lips quirked to the side as though she too was debating if she should approach me, nestling her head against my chest as she’d always done.
“Can I interest you in one of our pre-made designs or do you have something in mind?” I continued. I had to keep it light, not get too into the topics my heart really wanted to dredge up. I had no doubt in my mind if I did, she would bolt, and I couldn’t risk that, not when she was so close. So I swallowed all the questions and all the accusations and walked to the other side of the counter, pulling out the large black binder filled with my designs I had for customers to choose from or get inspiration from.
“I—” She paused, her mouth opening and closing as though she was attempting to figure out what to say.Just play along, I silently begged her, my face falling slightly at the thought that she might run. So I continued getting out the samples, like I would if she were a client. Last night Merrick told me what happened, how she walked through that door … and how he smashed up half the bar because of it. My chest had burned after hearing that, wishing I’d been there to see her …
I couldn’t let her go, not now, and I couldn’t afford to slip back into the deep dark well of despair, not when we finally had our chance to get her back. “I’d love to see them,” she whispered, as though she was fighting herself too—her instinct to run warring with her need to stay, for the illusion of normalcy between us.
Turning the binder to face her, I flipped open the cover, my heart hammering against my chest at every second that passed between us. I knew that at any moment she could walk out that door and there wouldn’t be anything I could do to stop her. I wanted to lock her away, to throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my place so she would be out ofhisclutches. But I knew I couldn’t. That would make me just as much of a monster as Tommaso Barone.
Her hand reached out hesitantly to turn the pages, and my breath caught at the slight tremor as it shook lightly. The tension was palpable between us, but it was as though neither of us could let go. Like this could have been something that actually happened if she hadn’t left or if we all went to New York together like we’d planned. Tingles ran over my skin as she turned the first page, both excitement and anxiety churning within me at the thought of her seeing my artwork. The first few pages were simplistic designs, but after those I had samples of my other work, of the personal pieces I’d sketched out and had etched into my skin. I both wanted her to see them and dreaded her getting that far. They were like snippets of my life, of my heartbreak with her gone, and I knew she would understand as soon as she saw them. It was as though letting her see them was like putting my heart right back on that table, barely beating, and holding on by a thin thread that stitched it together, waiting for her to either heal it or smash it to pieces again.
I tugged at the long sleeve plaid shirt I wore over the black T-shirt that covered up most of the designs inlaid into my skin, my very soul, and wondered if she would notice the one peeking out over the shirt’s hem right above my heart …
Silence stretched between us, becoming so charged, I had to hold back all the words poised on my tongue. She pushed the glasses on her nose again, her hand shaking lightly as she held it there. Only a few more minutes, I told myself, glancing at the clock on the wall. Merrick was supposed to meet me here any minute to discuss our plans.
I nearly killed that stubborn asshole last night when he said he’d let our girl walk out that door, destroying the bar in a fit of rage rather than chasing after her, but I understood why. She was too closely connected to the Barones and in a bar filled with bikers who loathed them, it might have turned into a bloodbath if they found out who she was … and we still needed them.
I understood there wasn’t much of anything we could’ve done to keep her there, just like I knew there wasn’t anything I could do now. But it still didn’t stop me from hating him for being the one to see her, to have her fall straight into his lap and then he let her go. But now with her standing in front of me, paging through the binder of my art, I wasn’t sure how I would handle it if she left right now. Because despite the fact we were in my shop, I had no doubt that someone could be watching us. Maybe not even one of Tommaso’s men, but it could be anyone in the town that was loyal to them. There were still some that believed the Barones were the good guys they pretended to be, that they kept the town safe from the thieves and thugs that hovered just on the border of town, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. But there weren’t any gangs like that anymore, not for the past four years, and the Barones had absolutely nothing to do with that.
I glanced nervously at the glass door, the only sound the turning of the plastic page covers as she skimmed the book. Hopefully Merrick would have a better idea today now that his anger had waned because my head was an absolute mess right now.
A pang sliced through my chest when I noticed where she’d stopped—the first tattoo I’d designed after she left, the one I had tattooed over my heart to remind myself of the woman who was so ingrained there, so entwined in my body, mind, and soul her imprint would stay there forever. It was the same sketch that was held in the frame which laid to the side still shattered, but I’d taken some artistic liberties—the side of her face that had been bathed in light was surrounded with tiny lilacs, and my nostrils flared, that same scent flooding my senses now. The other side, that was shrouded in darkness, had flames dancing around it as though she controlled them, resting close but not enough to burn. Over the top of her head was a halo, casting down the light onto the one side, along with two small devil horns, barely peeking out through the wisps of hair along her crown.
The angel and the devil that dwelled inside her were equally beautiful. Her innocence and carefree, wild streak mixed to create my Giana—perfect in every way. It also held a deeper meaning of the emotions running through me at the thought of her just after she left. I couldn’t let go of how I felt for her and how much love I had—still had—for her in my heart, and that made me hate myself. I despised that I still cared for her even though she threw us away and everything we could have had together. She was both what lit me up and tore me down in that moment.
But six years passed—six years where I was left analyzing everything that happened leading up to that moment. My eighteen-year-old-self wanted to hate her, to believe that she’d lied to us, and strung us along all those years when her real plan had been to leave with Tommaso the whole time. I’d let anger cloud my judgment and sour what I knew of the woman I loved. For two years I tried to forget her, had focused on my art, and turned to anything I could to help drown out her voice, her scent from my memories. Until one day, when I got the courage to pull out that drawing I’d made in seemingly another lifetime and designed that tattoo sitting between us. I truly let myself remember everything, who she was as a person and how she’d acted leading up to graduation—and pieces began to click together. I couldn’t be sure, not without seeing her, what her motivation had truly been, but in that moment, as I filled in the final details of those eyes, that she was my devil and she was always up to something.
But perhaps that was a good thing, that both Merrick and I were so full of rage we believed the web of lies that had been spun for us. Because if we’d had any shred of clarity in that moment we would’ve gone after her, killed every person in our way, and probably gotten us all killed in the process. Merrick had always been skeptical, but I’d known in that moment I couldn’t let her go, not then and not ever. We weren’t eighteen anymore, and we could fight back.
Her hand trembled on the page, our faces lifting to look back at each other at the very same moment. The silence was too heavy, too charged with everything that happened between us. This close I could see the faintest hint of her eyes behind the framed lenses. My breathing became heavy as we both stared at each other, our breaths, our hearts coming together as one. I had to see those eyes, read the emotions that she was keeping locked away, knowing I’d be able to read every thought that was crossing her mind with a single look. My hand reached out as though it had a mind of its own, inches away from easing away those black frames from her face.
