But he was just selfish enough to go through with it. Somehow, he’d have to figure out how to live with that.
After he’d kissed her again the night before, he’d told himself he needed to leave. There had been a lot said that day, and they both needed time to let it all sink in before they took the next step. As they’d both said the night before, they were past some of the initial awkwardness that came with getting to know someone on a date. They were already friends, already close. Now they would be closer. He didn’t know when they would sleep together, but he knew it would happen once she was ready.
He frowned. She’d said she had no nipple sensation, but did she lose anything else?
Sloane would have to ask her that outright. There was no way he’d hurt her if he had the chance to make things easier for her in the long run. Maybe he’d do some research on what others dealt with so he knew the right questions to ask. Considering he knew from his own therapy with PTSD that everyone’s treatments and aftermaths were unique, Hailey wouldn’t be textbook. But at least he’d be somewhat prepared when and if they went to bed together.
They weren’t young, well, he wasn’t anyway, so he wasn’t going to be some nervous kid when it came to sex. He’d make sure she got what she needed and do his best not to screw it up by hurting her in some way. It wasn’t that she was different from other women he’d been with—though she was because she was Hailey—it was just that he was so fucking scared. He wanted to make sure he didn’t mess up.
Somehow, in the course of a day, he’d gone from standing to the side, being near her but not with her, to dating her. He didn’t know if they had a label, but it was at least a new step in a direction he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for.
Sloane stood up and ran a hand over his head, noting he’d need to shave again soon. He liked the feel of the air on his bald head, so he kept it shaved. He’d done it in basic training and hadn’t stopped since. It didn’t seem to bother Hailey, so he’d keep it.
Today, he had to go to work and act like nothing happened in front of the others. Sure, they’d heard her storm into his section, but they’d at least pretended not to listen. He didn’t want them to give Hailey or him shit. All the while, he’d want to ask her what was going on and scream that he’d kissed her at the top of his lungs.
If he weren’t sure of his age, and the fact that he was nearing forty, he would have thought he was some damn teenage boy getting to kiss his first crush.
Hailey was his first for a lot of things, though, so maybe that made sense.
His first friend he’d fallen for. The first woman that he knew would be nothing but serious after getting out of the service.
His first…just his first chance at Hailey.
By the time he made it to Montgomery Ink, his head ached from too many thoughts and lack of coffee. He hadn’t made any at home, and he wasn’t sure if he should go into Taboo and get some from Hailey. Seriously, it was like he was a teenager again.
When he had the time, he should just go over there for coffee and see her.
Things had changed, but they hadn’t. And once he remembered that, everything would be okay. At least he hoped so.
Sloane stretched his back as he took a seat at his station. He had three appointments that day—two smaller ones that he could get done in less than an hour each—and another one that would take most of the afternoon. That one he knew had to be perfect. Not that any of his work was less than perfect, but the one that afternoon had to be better than the rest.
While each of the artists at Montgomery Ink did all kinds of work, they each had some specialties they were known for. Sloane had become known for his remembrance pieces. Those who had lost someone in the service came to him. He’d done ink remembering fallen soldiers—men, women, and dogs—as well as those who wanted to remember their branch in general.
Today he was doing an eagle for someone and wanted to make sure he got the feathers just right. The bird would look as if it were taking off; its wings stretched back, legs bent.
He hated and loved doing these all at the same time.
Maybe, just maybe, if he could help others, he’d rid himself of the stain of blood on his hands. Only he knew that wasn’t an option. He’d be tainted until the day he died—and he refused to let that time be short. The men who had fallen by his side deserved far more than what they’d received, and Sloane refused to give up when they hadn’t had a chance.
He let out a shuddering breath, pushing the memories back. It usually wasn’t this bad, but for some reason, he couldn’t quite get out of this funk.
Of course, he knew the reason, and she was just a wall away, working and probably smiling. Giving in to temptation had done something to him, broken down the barriers that had held the panic at bay.
“So…what happened last night?” Maya asked. He lifted his head to see her leaning against the table in his station, her pierced brow raised.