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Like the angel tattoo Ocean has.
Livvy.
My earlier resolution to tell him how I feel weakens. Crap. Almost forgot about her. What if she’s the reason he’s staying away?
What if it’s me?
Not as sure of myself as I was a minute ago, I start gathering my stuff. It’s mostly tidying up my half of the table, as the clothes are all sold. Amber’s jewelry is still on display—though she also sold loads—but she’s vanished somewhere.
I bet Jesse Lee is missing, too. The two of them are probably making out in the bathroom, and good for them.
Sighing, I grab my purse and jacket, my thoughts spinning, but as I turn away, a tall shadow falls over me, and my breath catches.
“Hey.” Ocean shoves a hand through his hair. “Good day?”
“Yeah. Nothing left to take home.”
He nods and gives me a mouthwatering smile. His jaw is scruffy, his eyes red-rimmed with fatigue.
Holy crap, he’s more gorgeous than ever.
“And you?” I ask. “You got lots of customers, I saw.”
“It was okay. I prefer working on a tat over weeks, slowly putting it together, but this was interesting.”
“You prefer drawing in parts.” I recall his sketches, stuck on his kitchen door. “Telling your story in parts.”
He frowns. “I guess. Look, I wanted…” He waves a hand in the air, then stuffs it into his jeans pocket, looking adorably nervous. “Um.”
Why is he nervous?
“Yes?”
His eyes are a brilliant blue when he meets my gaze. “To invite you over. For a drink or something.”
“Oh.” I open my mouth, close it. Try again. “When?”
He sucks in his lower lip, releases it, and it’s so sexy. “Now. Tonight.” He gives me a quick, crooked smile that has my toes curling. “I need to test something.”
“Test? So I’m some sort of experiment?”
“Nothing painful, I promise.”
But he can’t promise that. Not when my heart’s already exposed and naked, and a single blow can shatter it. Not when we should talk. When I should tell him. Ask him. Choose a course.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
First rule of love, as I’m coming to realize, is that control is a thing of the past. You can only let yourself go and brace for impact.
***
I drive us to his place, and we enter his apartment in silence. It’s cold inside, and I smile when he immediately goes and turns on the heaters.
“Jason not staying with you anymore?”
“No, he’d left before I came back on Sunday. Left a message, said he was doing much better.”
Sunday. The day Ocean almost died.
