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The notebook both gave me a sense of relief, to have those thoughts off my chest, but it sent a new wave of fear through me at the thought of someone reading it. It was one thing to relay events but my innermost thoughts and feelings were another thing entirely. The cash was another story—I wanted to give it back to Francine, to both thank her for her generosity and scold her for her meddling. But I knew I couldn’t, not when Tommaso and his men would be looking for me. There was no way I could show my face in East Haven right now and expect to not be picked up straight away. But also that small crack screamed at me to keep it for now, just in case the guys weren’t the same as I’d remembered and I again needed a way out …
I forced myself to reach for a pair of socks in the drawer and pull them onto my bare feet, only then registering how cold my toes had gotten, and pulled on the new pair of running shoes, the tag still hanging from the laces. They must’ve gone to get them for me because the guys’ shoes would’ve looked like clown shoes on me, and these fit perfectly. My pulse thundered in my ears at the step no matter how small it may seem, of distancing myself from these two items, but I knew I had to. I needed to build that trust back up, brick by brick, and this was the only way. So I put one foot in front of the other, pulling open the door to the empty hallway.
Thewarmsummerbreezeflowed through the foyer, ruffling my hair lightly as I opened the front door. I’d searched the entire main floor and came up empty, my footsteps were light on the squeaking hardwood floor as I explored through the dining room and into the kitchen. It looked as though it had been remodeled recently, and while most of the original finishes remained, the cabinets were a bright white and the appliances in stainless steel, a stark contrast to the wood tones throughout the house. It was almost like they’d just hired someone to do what was necessary without really putting much of themselves into it.
But they got the furniture from the firehouse and now in the daylight the rest of the wooden furniture looked similar too. The dining room table, chairs, and the desk in the office had all been there. We’d kept most of it covered but I could place it all now. My heart panged at the nostalgic touch, an homage to our old hideout … and perhaps this house would become the same now, our escape from the world, where we could just sit back and be us.
So I took a step out onto the porch and closed the red door behind me, breathing in the fresh summer air. It was so clean compared to the city, so vibrant and full of life. There the sun beat off the asphalt, the fumes clinging to your nostrils … along with other things. Before, I’d wanted to escape the small town I was in for the city so badly—and just the thought of returning had sent bile rising in my throat—I never realized how much I missed it. It was easy to get lost in the bustle of people rushing past. I was able to forget my own troubles, my thoughts drowned out by the blaring horns and constant hum of people chattering. But with some of that tension slipping off my chest already, I was able to finally appreciate the quiet calm that came with a small town.
I glanced over at the garage, sure that I’d find Merrick there, and headed off in that direction. Thankfully there wasn’t anyone else around to witness me standing back and inhaling the floral breeze that trickled past like I’d never breathed before. The entire house was abandoned from the looks of it. But if I knew Kellan and Merrick, there was no way that one of them wasn’t here to look after me. The gravel crunched under my running shoes as I strode to the separate building. But as I neared, I noticed a glass door around the side, with large paned windows surrounding it. I almost continued, but pulled up short, nearly tripping over my own feet as a movement through the door caught my eye.
So I changed direction, heading around the side rather than to the red steel door in between the wide garage ones. Because the glass panes, reaching nearly to the top of the building, reminded me of somewhere else, somewhere the windows line the entire shop, the beaming sun illuminating even the darkest corner of the tattoo parlor.
I reached for the door tentatively, grasping the cool metal handle, shaded by the position of the sun against the towering Victorian house. I pushed aside any lingering worries and pulled the door open, the cool air from inside hitting me in the face as it rushed out. Kellan spun on his heel at the electronic chime that clanged through the silent shop.
His eyes widened as he scanned my form, and a shiver of desire slithered up my spine at his attention, at the concern creasing his brow. I took another step forward and let the door close behind me, the movement breaking the trance that had fallen over Kellan.
“Is everything alright?” he asked hesitantly, inching forward, his arm barely lifted as though he wanted to reach for me but he hesitated.
His concern for me warmed my chest, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be coddled, didn’t want to be seen as breakable. This was not what I had wanted when I told them my story. My goal had been to tell them the whole truth so nothing laid between us, not for them to see my past, my trauma, before they saw the real me.
“Of course, everything is,” I scoffed, downplaying my change in routine. Turning to look at the wall, black and white sketches and watercolor work displayed in frames. This art seemed more personal than what was in his shop in East Haven. It was just as beautiful of course, but that was more commercial, examples that people could have tattooed on them, art that showcased his talent at tattooing. This though, the detailed lines and vibrant colors were straight from his soul. Just as I had poured the essence of myself into that notebook, I could tell he’d done the same with his art.
“You’ve been through a lot, Giana,” he soothed, stepping beside me, a hand tentatively brushing over my shoulder. I gritted my teeth at the light touch, the uncertainty in it. I was not breakable, I would not—could not allow what happened to destroy the person I was, the woman I could be.
“Stop,” I barked, jumping away from him.
He needed to hear this; they all did if they were going to treat me like some broken doll rather than the bloodthirsty woman I was.
“You don’t think I know that?” I asked incredulously. His hand slowly dropped to his side, his lips parting, but I cut him off. “I know what I went through. I’m done barely living because of that man.”
“Giana,” he murmured, as though he was trying to calm a wild animal. I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. But as he took a step forward, I knew what I needed to do, what I wanted to do, to clear up all those lingering doubts, to show the love that never truly left and to chase away six years of memories of Tommaso’s lips on mine.
I wouldn’t be the damsel needing to be comforted by a man—I was the devil and I needed to start acting like it.
So I closed the distance between us, and before he could stroke my arm in that hesitant way he had before, I fisted my hands in his black T-shirt, and yanked him toward me. His hands gripped my biceps to keep himself steady, lips parting with a question on his tongue, but I smothered them with my own. My mouth captured his in a searing kiss, conveying all the emotions swirling around inside me like a tornado.
It was hard and unyielding, and he paused for a moment, his lips still beneath mine. Uncertainty coiled around my chest, and my hands loosened a fraction, about to back away when a ragged sob racked his chest, the sound vibrating through me as he kissed me back with just as much fervor. The kiss was rough and wild, filled with passion, pain, and relief. My friendship had always been soft and gentle with Kellan, but this was as though we were both releasing the hurt and the trauma of the past six years. Our tongues wound together in a dance that tied our souls back together after they’d been ripped apart so long before.
His hands slid from my arms, one reaching up to cup the back of my head, fingers winding through my messy hair, while the other slid to my back, pressing my body into his. The thick material of the hoodie grated on my nerves, and I needed it gone, needed to have my bare skin pressed up against him. Warm waves of ecstasy flowed through me, straight to my core, and I gripped him tighter, wanting to feel the hard press of more than his chest against me.
But before I could beg him to throw me down on the desk and strip the sweatpants off me, he pulled away, drawing in a ragged gasp of air, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to compose himself. A chill swept over me in his absence, leaving me feeling bereft without the warm press of his muscled chest against me. Heat still lingered in his eyes, but there was a hint of hesitance that cut through the lust. Seeing that lifted some of the fog from me and brought me crashing back to reality. Still, I shoved aside all the whispering doubts that clawed their way back to the surface, reminding myself that I’d felt his need for me, just as hard, hot, and desperate as my own.
“Giana, are you—”
“Stop,” I cut him off, not wanting him to ruin what just happened between us. That same frustration I’d felt up in the room set in, and I just wanted to flip over the desk beside us, to kick and scream, and to crawl into a ball and let all the rage and hurt flow freely from me in a stream of tears.
He rushed forward, arms grasping me just as my knees gave out, and I fought against all the emotions raging inside of me, cursing myself for being this weak. I thought I’d blown through this, had weathered this storm the last two days, but I hadn’t seen the part that still lingered beneath all the bluster. But Kellan had, he’d seen right through the façade. I wanted none of this to affect me but it did, and it would for a long time. This was a wake-up call that I just had to take everything day by day.
So as I let all that frustration, pain, and anger flow freely—sobs racking my chest so hard I thought my ribs might splinter from the force—I let Kellan soothe me, and nuzzled into his chest as his fingers stroked down my hair.
“There’s no rush, Giana,” Kellan murmured. “You’re safe. You’ll always be safe with us.”
My chest warmed as I looked up at him, blinking away the tears still blurring my vision. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that, that I was safe, that I could take my time healing. Because as much as I didn’t want what had happened with Tommaso to take up anymore of my life—to cloud the now bright and sunny future I could finally picture, so close I could almost taste it—I couldn’t just expect myself to completely recover in a couple of days.
I reached up, my fingers teasing along his smooth jaw, and traced the hard line, pulling strength from the muscles beneath it. He shuddered at the light touch, his face pressing into it like he needed more. My brows creased as I studied every line, every curve of the face I used to know so well, cataloging all the differences the years had made. But he still looked the same really, more defined almost, but despite all the emotional turmoil of the last six years, he was still my Kellan. I raised on my toes, and his hands tightened on me, as though he feared I might lose my strength again, but that was impossible with him by my side. My lips lightly brushed his in a tender caress and he groaned at the contact, his own capturing mine immediately this time.
I melted into him, our mouths coming together as one like a breath of fresh air filling up my starving lungs. My body hummed with pleasure at the sensuous kiss, and I moaned into his mouth as his tongue delved in to meet mine. My hand wrapped around the back of his head, smoothing over his black curls—needing this pressure, his touch like I needed air to breathe. How had I survived this long without him? How could I have ever thought I could live any semblance of a normal life without him?
