“Tenley. It’s not—”
“Please don’t,” she whispered, her lip trembling. A tiny mew came from beside her. I’d forgotten all about the kitten. Tenley picked her up, diverting her attention away from me.
I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand. If she knew what was under all the ink and the steel, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.
“Do you want me to leave?” I wanted to stay and make it better.
Tenley focused on the kitten, shoving her nose into its fur as she skirted around me, giving me a wide berth. “That’s probably best.”
She held the door open and stared at the wall as she waited for me to put my shoes on. I stepped into the hall. “I’m really so—”
“Please don’t apologize.” Tenley cut me off, her smile empty and too bitter.
“Right. Okay. I’ll see you on Tuesday, though?”
“For what?”
“So I can check on your ink.”
“See you later, Hayden.”
She closed the door without giving me a real answer, which I supposed was an answer in itself. I heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking into place, followed by a soft thud as I started down the hall. Before I could make it very far, though, a low, despondent sound came from the other side of the door.
I hoped I could find a way to fix what I had broken.
13
TENLEY
I was starving. And not for food. Deprived of human connection and physical contact, I had been wasting away. Until Hayden kissed me. That changed everything. It was akin to being denied the buffet and given an appetizer as a consolation prize. It wasn’t even close to enough. I wanted more of him.
Every sociology course I’d taken as an undergraduate had brought me to the same conclusion: human beings craved emotional attachment. What I hadn’t realized was just how deep that need ran and how the right person could make all the difference.
In the past ten months every true connection I’d had was severed. It was like having pieces of my heart gouged out until it became Swiss cheese. In the first few months after the crash I hadn’t been able to handle any affection. Once I was released from the hospital into Trey’s care, it got infinitely worse. He was as warm and fuzzy as a dead porcupine.
Any physical contact after that had been limited to sympathy hugs and prodding from doctors. Since moving to Chicago it had dwindled to the occasional affectionate squeeze from Cassie. I could count on one hand how many times that had happened. Then there were the myriad of piercings I’d asked Lisa to put in my body. None of those had felt particularly pleasant, although the pain was nothing compared to what I’d already endured.
But the brief contact from Hayden in the form of fleeting touches and kisses on the cheek had awakened feelings that bulldozed over my attempt at isolation and solitude. After being in his chair for an hour with his hands on me, even with the facade of professional detachment, I was covetous for more. I didn’t realize how ravenous I’d been until after the tattoo session.
It made me reckless and impulsive.
I hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it had been so long since I’d been touched in any capacity outside of consolation or medical intervention. Hayden’s touch both calmed and warmed me. I was tired of fighting my attraction to him. So I made a bad decision. I gave in to it.
The last time I was kissed was when Connor told me he needed to use the restroom on the plane. The one in first class was occupied, so he went to coach. It was just a peck on the cheek. I never saw him alive again.
Even if my last kiss from Connor had been memorable, I could say with absolute certainty that no kiss from him compared to the one I shared with Hayden. It was like setting off an atomic bomb of desire. It wiped out everything but him.
I thought I understood physical attraction, but in the wake of the unbound longing Hayden inspired in one kiss, I began to see how na?ve I’d been. While I loved Connor and always would, he never held a fraction of the allure Hayden did. I didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming need for more of him.
Facing Hayden after tonight wasn’t going to be pleasant. Beyond the mortification of rejection, which I hoped I could handle, I was terrified he would reconsider being my tattooist. I needed it to be him. He was broken, too, maybe not as badly as me, but he understood loss. It was reflected in the art he wore on his body, in his reluctance to put the design on me without knowing why I wanted it. The tattoo was my absolution, and I trusted Hayden to make it happen. It was about more than body art, though; pretending otherwise was a lie. I wanted his touch and the closeness that came with it. I craved the connection I’d found with him, even if I shouldn’t.