His amusement fueled my irritation and my stupidity. “My art is on her body.”
“So you think that gives you some kind of entitlement?” He leaned in, anger replacing the passivity. “What is it you think you’re doing with her? Do you have any idea what she’s been through?”
I opened my mouth, ready to fire right back at him, but he cut me off.
“How long do you think it’s going to take before she realizes you’re a fuckup? That’s what you are, isn’t it? Look at what you’ve done to yourself.”
“Who the fuck are you to judge me? Don’t project your bullshit stereotypes onto me. Take a look at yourself. Hiding behind a badge and a uniform, like it protects you from your fuckups.” I spat, moving around the counter, getting in his face. He was slamming home every insecurity I had, ripping open wounds I thought healed long ago.
“You think what you’ve been through gives you some kind of free pass to drag whoever you want down with you?” His lip curled in derision. He was pushing my buttons and enjoying it. “What you’ve seen? The shit you’ve witnessed? It doesn’t touch what that girl has gone through.”
“You think I’m not aware? Don’t pretend you know her when all you’ve done is search whatever database you have access to. I know what she feels like from the inside. I guarantee you can’t say the same.” The second I said it, I wished I could take it back.
It was the worst possible thing to come out with. It made me out to be exactly what he expected; just another asshole looking to exploit some innocent girl for my own personal benefit. In staking a claim to her I fed right into the stereotype he accused me of perpetuating.
He regarded me with cold contempt. “You sonofabitch. You have no idea what you’re doing. I’m willing to bet she’s going to wake up from this phase she’s going through, and I guarantee she’s going to hate you for whatever you’ve coerced her into.”
“I haven’t coerced her into anything.” She came to me with a design. She invited me into her apartment, her bed, her life.
“You keep telling yourself that. But a girl like her, smart, driven, with her shit together despite what she’s been through? There’s got to be a lineup of guys waiting for you to blow it.”
“Stay the fuck away from Tenley.”
He crossed his thick arms over his chest and smiled. “You sound a little worked up there, Hayden. You think I’m planning to move in on your territory? She’s a little on the young side for me. But you never know, maybe in a few years when she’s got this thing out of her system . . .”
I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me or serious.
“Anyway, things to consider,” he said, like he was contemplating buying a lottery ticket. “In the meantime I’ll keep tabs on how you’re managing her. I’ll see you around.”
With that he turned and walked out the door.
“Fuck.” I gripped my hair to shut down the rising fury. Coupled with fear, it was too much to handle. Everything Cross said could be true. I didn’t want to be a phase. I wanted her to heal, I just didn’t want her to move on and leave me behind. I’d spent the last seven years in self-preservation mode, keeping the people closest to me at a safe distance. Somehow Tenley got past all the armor, and I didn’t want that to change.
Tenley came back a minute later and slammed a piece of paper with the Inked Armor logo down on the counter. “Lisa wants the usual, Jamie said he was good, and Chris is hungry. He gave me a list.” She pointed a finger in my face. “Don’t think for a second I didn’t see right through you. What the hell was that all about? How do you two know each other?”
She was seriously pissed. She had every right to be. I acted like a jealous dick. At least she hadn’t witnessed the worst of it. I pulled her into me and hugged her hard, shoving my face in her hair. She stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered against her neck.
She remained rigid for several more seconds before she finally eased up. Her arms came around my waist cautiously. “Hayden? What’s going on?”
I just wanted to keep her, in whatever way I could, but it seemed like every time I turned around someone or something threatened to take her away from me. I pressed my lips to her neck, panic overriding every other emotion. “I don’t want you to talk to him again.”
“What?” She pushed away.
I let her go. “Cross is the cop who messed up the evidence in my parents’ murder investigation.”
“Oh God.” She pressed her palm against her mouth as shock became understanding. “That’s terrible. When was the last time you saw him?”
“When they closed the case because of compromised evidence.”
“Oh Hayden. What can I do to make it better?”
“I need you.”
“I’m right here.”
I shook my head. “I need you.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I’ll take you home.”