Ocean (Damage Control Book 5) (22 page)

Which reminds me.

I call my sister and tap my fingers impatiently on the kitchen counter waiting for her to pick up. My Tarot cards are there, and I spread them as the phone rings and rings.

It’s a tradition by now, to do some spreads while talking to Allie.

She doesn’t pick up, though, and I put the phone down to finish my spread. I was trying to think of Allie as I did it, but my thoughts kept drifting to Ocean.

Shocker, I know—but Amber is right. I can’t believe he’s a bad person.

I don’t know what to think. Or do.

Seven of Cups.
Huh.
I expected something terrible to appear, I realize. Something with swords, probably. But Seven of Cups… that’s confusion and wishful thinking. And choices.

Are we talking about Ocean? Or myself?

I glance at my cell. I should try Allie again, but I want to finish this spread first. I remember the loathing in Ocean’s gaze when he saw the cards. A gambler for a father. A gambler who spends all the family money.

And his mom is sick. Plus now he lost his car. His life really is a mess.

Still, I flinch when I turn the next card over: Five of Pentacles. That means financial loss. Hardship. Poverty.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? Intuition, like Amber said. Like
I
said so many times. Or maybe in this case it’s just logic. Accidents, sickness. These things cost.

I wonder how much Ocean is making at the tattoo shop. Can’t be very much. Zane Madden and Rafe Vestri, the owners, may have expanded it, but the shop is vulnerable at this point. My dad often talked about his small business when I was younger and around to listen.

Smoothing a fingertip over the card, I imagine I’m touching Ocean’s face, his smooth skin right over the stubble of his jaw.

I can’t help with that. Money is tight. But if it helped, I could… I could sell my car. Or something. I totally would.

For a man I’m not in love with. Not at all.

Right.

Then I turn the final card and stare.

The Lovers.

Holding hands, gazing at each other.

I don’t need to think about the meaning of this card. It’s obvious. Relationships. Decisions. Growth.

Sexual attraction. Love.

Sweeping the cards to the floor, I grab my cell and call my sis again. This is stupid. I’m scaring myself with this stuff. Why does it matter if I found The Lovers’ card in my spread?

I know better than this. Better than to choose to believe certain signs and not those I don’t like.

Or those I don’t believe.

But this is it, exactly. I don’t believe in foretelling the future. Or in luck. I only want to find signs that it’s okay to feel the way I feel.

About
him
.

And what way is that, Kay, huh?
I ask myself as the call connects and my sister answers.

“Hello. Kay, this isn’t a good time.”

“Why?” Hey, it’s my sis, I can’t be indiscreet and obnoxious with her.

“Not in the mood, Kay.”

“And why is that?”

“Christ. I just had a fight with Brad. Happy?”

“No, I’m not frigging happy.” I mean, not really. Maybe a little? “He’s a douche. You shouldn’t be with him.”

“Oh, shut up, not again.” She sighs. “Look, I gotta go.”

“Wait.” I clutch the cell more tightly. “You were crying again.”

“No shit. We fought, Kay. What do you think?”

“Is he worth it, sis? All the heartbreak?”

“What kind of question is that? He’s my fiancé.”

“But does he also make you smile and laugh and swoon? Is he amazing in bed? Is he the best kisser? Does he… does he carry you home in his arms if you get drunk and does he touch your mouth if you burn yourself with your coffee in the morning?”

The silence that follows is so loud it’s deafening.

What the hell did I just ask? What am I really trying to figure out?

“Kay…” She swallows audibly. “This isn’t one of those romance books you’re reading. This isn’t love. Told you before. This is real life.”

This isn’t love.

“You don’t love Brad.”

“Love has nothing to do with a relationship, little sis.”

“Then what does?”

“Mutual understanding. Respect. Mutual goals.”

“And do you and Brad have any of that?”

“I’ve got to go. I think he’s back.”

A bad feeling grips me. “Allie, I want to come visit you. This week. Please say yes.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Kay, I have—”

“I’m coming over. Friday. Even just for coffee. Love you.”

As she hangs up, her words whirl through my mind like spinning tops.

This isn’t love.

Brad doesn’t do for her what Ocean does for me. Things you do when you care for someone. Like he cares for me, and I’m…

Oh no.

No frigging way. I’m not in frigging love. Not for a guy who won’t talk to me, won’t open up and who insists he’s bad to the bone. I mean, who am I to argue with that? What if he’s right?

And even if deep inside he’s a good guy and cares for me… I already know how this ends. He’ll break up with me like he did with every other chick he’s been with, and I’ll sink in heartbreak and despair, like my sister, and my parents, and everyone I watched doing this dance as I grew up.

***

When I drive over to Damage Control the next day, it’s not even midday, and I don’t expect anyone to be around. Anyone but Amber and Ev, that is, with whom I want to talk about setting up our stand for the tattoo convention.

But the place is crawling with people, preparing for said convention, since it’s taking place tomorrow.

Duh, Kay. Logical.

Still I don’t expect to see Ocean there—don’t know why, really. Just wasn’t counting on it. Wasn’t prepared.

I’m still not prepared when I enter and find him right in front of me. He’s carrying a complicated-looking gadget while Micah and Shane move a bench to another part of the shop.

He’s a spot of color in the chaos of the shop, his blue hair mussed, his muscular arms bare in the sweat-drenched green tank top he’s wearing. His jeans hung low on those narrow hips and tight little ass, and oh boy, is it getting hot in here?

His gorgeous face is haggard and tired when he turns around. Then it goes white when he sees me, and two red spots bloom on his cheekbones. A flash of something hot and bright goes off behind his eyes, something like joy.

“Kay.”

I shiver. I’ll always shiver when he says my name in that deep, raspy voice.

“Hey. Wow, this place sure looks different. All ready for the big event?”

Because, oh God, I’m not ready. I’m not prepared to talk to him.

“Getting there.” He wipes his face on the back of his forearm, flashing me the small tattoo of the angel. He looks straight at me, meeting my gaze, deep blue sucking me in, studded with stars like space.

Or maybe I’m hyperventilating.

I mean, it’s Ocean. Can’t help the way my body takes notice when he’s around and the way butterflies somersault in my stomach.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asks. “Amber said something about you two having a stall?”

“Yes?” I realize with a jolt I’m staring at his beautiful mouth and wrench my gaze away, to a spot beyond him, where two guys are wrestling a huge table into a corner. “I mean, yes, we are.”

He’s looking at me. I can feel the weight of his gaze on my face.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then,” he mutters quietly, and of course I have to see his expression.

The brightness I’d seen before has gone out.

“Wait.”

He stops in the process of turning around. He shoots me a questioning glance.

I open my mouth and close it, suddenly unsure.

On the way here, I’d finally made up my mind to call and ask him what he meant.

Amber’s words ring inside my head.
Your sixth sense is telling you he’s not a bad buy.

He believes he is, though, and I want to know why. I want… I don’t know what I want. How I feel.

“It’s okay, Kay. I get it,” he says, his voice hushed, and turns to go.

“Please, wait.” I reach for him, and manage a good grip on his sweaty T-shirt.

The smell of his sweat hits me, then, and I find myself sniffing him like a bitch in heat. Good God, how is it possible that a man’s sweat can smell like bacon dipped in syrup, with a side of spice?

My mouth waters.

He stills. I’m not sure he’s even breathing as I release his T-shirt and slip around him so that I can see his face.

It’s all written there. Uncertainty. Wariness. Regret. And behind it all, a faint echo of hope.

He looks so vulnerable, it’s a battle not to reach up and touch his mouth, stroke his cheek, stand on tiptoe and kiss him.

“I’m driving to Milwaukee later today,” I say instead, and the flicker in his expression tells me he’s surprised. “My sister lives there. I’m going to visit her.”

He nods, dark brows drawing together. Man, he really looks wrecked. How fast can someone lose weight? His cheeks look hollow, and he has dark circles under his eyes. The cut over his brow is surrounded by a yellowish bruise.

He’s not saying anything, so I clear my throat. God, I hope I’m not wrong about this.

“I know you don’t have a car right now.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “And that your mom is sick. You did say they live near Milwaukee. I could drive you there and pick you up on my way back.”

The red on his cheekbones spreads. His eyes go wide and dark.

Still saying nothing.

This habit has to stop.

“Just nod for yes, okay?” I see Ev and Amber staring at us from the door. Ev is making kissy faces at me. They set off toward us. “If you can leave work early.”

Still no reply.

That’s it, I think. It was a mistake. I should have let it be. I should have—

“Yes.” His hand lifts and cups my face, a warm, quick caress. His gaze collides with mine, and it’s like sinking in a stormy sea. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice rough like broken glass. He clears his throat. “Kay—”

He stops.

Ev and Amber are here, beside us, their faces kinda red.

Um.

Ev makes a face. “Sorry. We all have classes later, so we don’t have much time, or I’d have let you two talk. Hey, Ocean.”

He nods at her, his expression shuttering. “Hey. I’ll let you girls go.”

“Later,” I say, but he’s already turning away, his back stiff.

Guess I’ll never know what he was about to say.

Ocean

She’s taking me along. Despite what I told her about me the other day. Maybe she wants to be friends.

We can’t be friends. It’ll never be enough. But I’ll have to take it, if that’s all she can give me.

I was so fucking glad I wasn’t leaving town, and now I can’t be with her, because I fucked up—by telling her the truth.

I ask permission from Zane to leave work. I’m not much use at the shop anyway, since I can’t lift things because of my busted ribs, and we don’t have appointments today due to the preparations for the convention.

“Go home and get some rest,” he says, distractedly running his hands over the shaved sides of his head. His Mohawk is particularly fearsome today, a deep green with red at the front, as if it was dipped in blood. “That’s where you should be after the accident, fucker, not here. You should have stayed in bed and sipped soup. As a matter of fact, you should have let a doctor take a look at those ribs.”

“I’m okay,” I say, as always humbled by the concern of these people who took me in without knowing the first thing about me and have had my back since the beginning. “I just have something I need to do.”

Zane’s almost my height, so we’re eye to eye when he leans in. “You’d tell me if you needed help with anything, right, fucker? I’m not gonna be running after you, like with the other motherfuckers, to find out if something’s wrong, yeah?”

I shake my head. My mess is my mess. Nothing he can do to fix it.

Seemingly satisfied, he draws back. “Can’t blame a guy for worrying. You don’t draw much anymore. Don’t talk much. Don’t know if it’s a phase or a change, know what I mean?” When I nod, he goes on. “I hope you can make it to the convention tomorrow, but if you don’t feel up to it, just let me know. We clear?”

“Yeah. Thanks, man. I owe you.” I owe him everything, in fact, him and this brotherhood of tattooed, badass, loyal-as-hell guys. “And I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Good.” Zane mock-punches my arm. “The others, they look at you for guidance, you know? The new ones—Seth, Shane and Jesse. Even Micah. You were my first apprentice, the first to ink here apart from me. Hell, forget about the others.
I
count on you, all right?”

No pressure. And yet I grin at him, because Zane Madden just told me he counts on me. “All right.”

“Tyler told me what you said about the tattoo.”

Ah fuck.
“Look, Z-man—”

“I didn’t mean to force you into anything, okay, fucker? Let me know if and when you’re ready to be part of the Brotherhood.”

He walks away before I can think of an appropriate response. Jeez, I’d give my right arm to be part of the Brotherhood.

And yet I can’t say yes. Can’t involve the Brotherhood in any illegal shit, and I think I know where I can get more money for the tests and treatments, until—hopefully—Mom gets re-enrolled in the system. I hate myself for thinking it, but I can’t figure out any other solution.

I hate myself even more because I’m gonna set it in motion when Kayla drives me to the trailer park today.

If only she knew…

Would it matter? She already knows enough. I wonder if she’ll change her mind and call to say she won’t be going after all. Or some other excuse.

She’s sweet, but now she knows I’m bad news. I doubt I’ll see her much after that.

By now the strange tightening in my chest when I think about her is familiar. I ignore it as best I can and head home.

***

As I enter my apartment, I get a call from the doctor’s office with the costs of the tests, visits and medicine. I listen, gripping the phone until I can’t feel my fingers, as the doctor’s secretary lists the amounts, and then tells me the doctor will be there to examine Mom today, and that I can pay him in person, if I like. It’s unorthodox, but it’d save me going to the medical center to pay.