Inked in the Steel City Series (32 page)

After several moments of blinding bliss, he opened his eyes and gave them time to focus again, bringing her beautiful face back into clear sight. Her cheeks were flushed a vivid shade of pink that had crept down and spread across her chest, and her eyes seemed brighter, too. Withdrawing from between her thighs, he pressed his mouth to hers and let the heat of her lips soften the transition from inside her body to regular existence.

* * * * *

The water was scalding hot. It almost burnt her as it rushed over her body, but she was already red where a deep blush had spread beneath the surface of her skin as she and Jed had made love. She stood under the overhead spray, waiting for the color to fade from her skin and the fog of near-panic to lift from her mind.

The bliss of being tangled up with Jed had dominated her consciousness while they’d been in bed. But it had faded when she’d risen from the twisted sheets, swinging her legs over the edge. By the time her toes had brushed the carpet, a strange weight had slipped onto her shoulders, dispelling the satisfaction. The uncomfortable feeling had nothing to do with Jed – no, it had hit her when a little stuffed dog sitting on top of her dresser had caught her eye.

She’d bought it in the winery gift shop on Saturday, when she’d been there with her grandmother. It was supposed to be a gift for her cousin’s three year old daughter – the kid was going through a puppy-obsession phase, and Karen had picked it up for her on a whim, meaning to mail it to her later. Now, even the memory of the little dog sent something sharp and searing through the center of Karen’s being.

Was this the grief finally hitting her? She braced herself with a hand against the shower wall, her fingertips settling into the grooves between tiles. As she breathed a deep, shuddering breath, the next day’s task of selecting flowers for the funeral service seemed repellant, impossible and more important than ever. How could she do that – how could she make arrangements to bury someone she couldn’t imagine being gone?

Her grandmother seemed to wait around every corner of her mind, until she tried to focus, tried to recall – that was when the realization hit her, sudden and crushing: she wouldn’t see her again. The memories were all she had, last impressions that were bound to fade with time.

She kept forgetting, kept remembering, and it hurt a little more each time, as reality began to drill the unchangeable fact into her forgetful mind.

She didn’t realize she was crying until her eyes stung. Tilting her head back, she let the hot water hit her face, instantly washing the tears away. Better to let them escape now than to have to hold them back in Jed’s presence. How could she cry in front of him when he’d suffered the ultimate loss, the death of a spouse? What she was feeling hurt, but his pain had to have been so much greater.

Most of the hot water was gone by the time a knock sounded at the door.

She jumped a little, her fingers slipping against the slick wall tiles. “Jed?”

The faint screech of door hinges sounded, and through the foggy glass shower panel, she could detect the motion of the door opening a little. Jed’s head showed as a dark spot through the frosty glass. “Are you all right, Karen?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice came out surprisingly, pleasingly steady.

“You’ve been in the shower for a long time. Thought I’d make sure everything’s okay.”

She shut off the tepid water and took a moment to smooth her expression before sliding the shower door open. “Thanks. But I’m okay.”

Jed’s eyes went wide as she revealed herself, stepping out onto the bathmat. For several silent moments, he stared, dark eyes shining with apparent concern … and something more.

She reached for a towel hanging on a nearby hook and wrapped it around her body.

His gaze continued to linger, now on her shoulders. “You sure? If I did something to upset you, you can tell me. Or if it’s about what you’re going through, you know you can talk to me, right?” He seemed earnest as he stood in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame, and Karen’s heart did a cartwheel as she met his eyes.

“I guess I’m just now starting to realize what
gone
means. But Jed… I don’t feel right talking to you about it. Not when you’ve been through so much worse.” Her pain was real, but the prospect of baring her heart to Jed made her feel somehow selfish. After all, she’d never expected to outlive her grandmother; however much she’d enjoyed Helen’s company, she’d always known that this day would come eventually.

 Jed, on the other hand, had lost the person he’d sworn to spend the rest of his life with.

He didn’t say so, but it had to hurt him to witness her sadness, to try to comfort her. Didn’t it?

* * * * *

Jed’s heart fractured as he stood across from Karen, watching water streak down her face and over the graceful lines of her collarbones, eventually dampening the towel she’d wrapped tight around her body. Maybe she thought he didn’t realize she’d been crying, but the redness and slight puffiness around the edges of her eyes had betrayed her to him as soon as she’d stepped out of the shower. Even now, he noticed a tear slipping from one corner of her eye; the beads of liquid dripping from her sopping hair didn’t hide it.

“Talk to me, Karen. I can handle it. I wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t.”

It was a lie. In that moment, he’d have done anything for her, even if it would’ve meant agony for him. But it wouldn’t; in fact, a part of him sensed that if he could help her make sense of her own grief, it might give his some kind of meaning. And that would be a comfort, however small.

She made the slightest movement, as if she meant to step off the bathmat and come to him. Her shoulders went rigid as she stopped herself, and a dent appeared in her lower lip.

He went to her instead, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. Her body was soft beneath the scant cover of the towel, and it conformed to his as he embraced her. He held her tight, even tighter than he’d meant to as the memory of her picking up the red teapot in his kitchen played inside his head, crystal-clear.

One of the reasons why the sight of her holding the teapot had unsettled him had been because the object – the physical token of his grief – had seemed so out of place in her hands. There was a certain kind of innocence about her; she projected an air of passion, the sort of fearless zeal for life that could only exist in someone whose world had never been turned upside down by life’s unfairness. It grated to see that innocence tainted, to think of her spending the night in the hospital, the only family member there to watch someone she loved die.

He’d only pulled on his jeans, no shirt. Something hot and wet dampened his shoulder – hotter than the lukewarm water that soaked her hair. At least he’d convinced her she could cry in front of him. It was a double-edged sword, sending relief and bitter sympathy slicing through him. “You two were close, weren’t you?” Mina had said so.

Karen nodded, raising her head and meeting his gaze for a second before looking down again. “I was closer to my grandmother than my own mother, honestly. Plus, my parents live in Scranton, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. We spent a lot of time together. She wasn’t your average grandmother.”

Her voice hitched, but she took a deep breath and continued. “We did all kinds of things together. And at least one night a week, we’d order in, crack open a bottle of wine and stream a movie, usually after one of my photo shoots.”

“Sorry,” Jed said, knowing the word fell flat despite the fact that he meant it.

“She was my grandmother. I knew this would happen eventually. I guess I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. She wasn’t even seventy.”

The fact that Karen’s grandmother had only been in her sixties reminded Jed of Karen’s youth, and his stomach clenched up into a hard ball when he thought of her sitting by a hospital deathbed. At least she’d had Mina, then. Now, she had him. And he’d been through it all; he understood. For the first time, he felt like he actually had something to offer her.

CHAPTER 7

“I almost forgot to tell you,” Karen said, pausing with her fork buried in a half-eaten slice of cheesecake. “In a week, I’m leaving for New York.”

Jed sat still too, turning dark eyes upon her from the other side of her small kitchen table. “New York?”

Was it just her imagination, or did he look grim as he gripped his fork, waiting for her to explain?

“Just for a few days,” she said as realization dawned on her. Had he thought she meant permanently? She explained about the contest she’d won, about the incredible opportunity she’d all but forgotten about in the wake of her grandmother’s death.

It had been a week since then – the memorial services had come and gone, and she’d spent the days since in an odd haze of grief and gladness. Jed was to thank for the gladness; they’d been spending a lot of time together. For some reason, he’d seemed to warm up to the idea of them being together after the first night he’d spent in her apartment, on the day he’d brought her coffee and offered her a shoulder to cry on.

“Sounds like it’ll be great for your career.” He carved a bite from the slice of homemade cheesecake Karen had baked for them to share. She’d done it as a small way to thank him for all the selfless support he’d shown her over the past week, and because the dessert had provided the perfect excuse to invite him over.

“It will be. Or at least, I hope so. Marc St. Pierre is a really respected designer in the bridal fashion industry. And the catalogs…” She didn’t quite manage to suppress a sigh. “They’re gorgeous. I can’t believe my photographs are going to be in one.”

“I can believe it.” Jed stared at her over his coffee mug. “Your photos are amazing, Karen. I know you’re shooting full-time now, but you still don’t give yourself enough credit. I’ve been telling you for a while now that you’re not charging me enough for the tattoo portraits. Every time you hand me an envelope full of prints, I feel like I’m stealing from you.” He motioned at the wall, where half a dozen colorless prints hung in black frames. “You’re an artist.”

She hid a goofy grin with an especially large bite of cheesecake. When Jed complimented her, it always left her feeling as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. They’d made love nearly a dozen times now – the three nights he’d spent in her apartment had been especially intense – but she still found herself breaking out in embarrassing blushes and grins sometimes. “Thanks.”

For some reason, when they embraced after finishing their dessert, he held her especially tight.

* * * * *

Jed carried the box down the stairs, through Hot Ink and out to his car, ignoring the way its corners dug into the insides of his arms, leaving red impressions on the little bits and pieces of uninked skin that showed through. It was the last one – for today. When he got it to the big house, where he had storage – an actual attic – he’d place it carefully there.

He’d still own Alice’s teapot, dish towels and assorted other favorite household items, but he wouldn’t display them, wouldn’t section off special places in kitchen cupboards and drawers for them, allowing the air in those places to grow stale. He didn’t use them, so there was no point – he didn’t need Alice’s things to remember Alice. She was in his heart and in his skin – those things would be enough.

After hefting the box into the back seat of his Charger, he felt oddly light, and not because he’d just put down a physical burden. Maybe he should’ve done this a long time ago.

Before slipping behind the wheel, he sent Karen a quick text, letting her know he was on his way over. Fifteen minutes later, he was idling at the curb in front of her apartment building. He went to the door and helped her carry her bags down the stairs and load them into the trunk. “Excited?” he teased as he pulled back out onto the street.