"Take some personal responsibility."
"I'll buy you a new top when I destroy that one."
"Ryan." Her laugh lifts to a giggle. "Don't tease me. Not after that."
"What's the tease?"
"You'd go here?"
"It's empty." I stare into her blue-green eyes. "Unless you're chicken."
"It's a crowded area."
"Should I make a back-ay noise?"
"You just did." She picks up another taco. "Besides, you're bluffing."
"Try me."
She shakes her head. "Another time. I need to nurse my ego."
That's fair.
She takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. "I want a family too. But I don't know if I'd be any good at it." She finishes her taco, plants her hands on the concrete, and leans back to look up at the stars. "I don't exactly have a worthy role model."
"You can learn."
"Maybe."
"You can talk about it."
"Another time. I've had enough baggage for tonight."
"You can still spend the night."
"I know."
But she doesn't.
She doesn't know how much I need her. How much I want to be all hers. How much I want to fix this.
There's some way to prove it to her.
I just need to figure it out.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ryan
When I wake at three a.m., she's gone. But yesterday's clothes are still on my bedroom floor.
She isn't running away.
Not completely.
I brush my teeth, wash my face, take out my contacts.
My bed isn't an inviting place to sleep. It's a fucking curse. She's right. I've had a year to get rid of this fucking thing. To replace the frame and the mattress instead of just the sheets.
I thought getting rid of it meant Penny had some power over me. But she still does, whether I admit it or not.
I might as well move on with my life.
When sunrise creeps through the curtains, I give up on sleep.
I can't replace the bed at the moment. But I can do this.
I slide on my glasses and spend an hour rearranging the room.
There.
The bed no longer mocks me.
It's not much, but it's a start.
My eleven o'clock is a woman getting a Latin quote on her ribs. I'm careful about every line, but my thoughts stay on Leighton. The frustration in her brow. The hurt in her eyes. The words inked onto her side.
I finish the quote. Turn off the gun. "Done."
The woman jumps to her feet and stares at her new ink in the mirror. Her eyes go wide with wonder.
I see this expression a few times a day, but it never gets old.
This is where I belong. I'm lucky to have that. "Sit down." The demand in my voice covers my irritation.
The woman perks. Her brown eyes fix on mine. Her soft lips press into a smile. "Ryan, this is amazing."
"It was all your idea."
She shakes her head. "You designed it."
Yeah, I added the rain drops. The umbrella. The clouds. But it was all her. Talking to her. Seeing what made her eyes light up or her lips curl into a smile.
I found what was in her soul.
Not what was in mine.
Even so, I accept her praise. "Thanks."
"No. Thank you. It's amazing."
She squirms as I clean her up.
"You're done."
She jumps to her feet and throws her arms around me.
I step backward. Shift my weight into my heel. I never get used to this either.
"Thank you so much." She squeezes me tightly.
"My pleasure."
She releases me. Grabs her hoodie from the chair, slides it on, zips it until it's covering her taped on tube top.
I lead her to the counter. Give her my usual aftercare routine. Ring her up myself.
It's easy enough, but it's not the same without Leighton.
There's something missing from my goodbye.
There's just something missing.
The thought of not seeing her at work every day steals my oxygen. It's what's best for her. It's inevitable. But it's fucking terrible.
The thought of not seeing her, period?
My stomach churns.
I grab my sketchbook, take a seat behind the counter, work on a mock-up—a colorful ocean inspired sleeve. I'm halfway through a rough sketch when the bell rings.
Dean steps inside. Stretches his arms over his head.
He surveys the room—it's just Brendon finishing a shoulder tattoo—then turns to me. "How was it?"
"How was what?"
He motions to the counter.
Oh. How was fucking Leighton on the counter? Amazing. But it's not exactly front of mind. "None of your business."
"You're moody for someone who got laid as much as you did in the last two days."
"I'm always moody."
He makes that kinda noise. Moves to the Keurig in the corner and starts fixing a cup.
"You don't drink coffee."
"I'm aware of that."
"What are you doing?"
"Something nice for my brother. That okay with you?"
I run my hand through my hair. What the hell is up with him? "Yeah. Sure. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
The smell of coffee and the drip drip drip of the machine fill the room.
I turn my attention back to my sketchbook. Draw an octopus breaking a ship with its legs.
Dean's footsteps move closer.
He sets the coffee on the desk. Stares at my drawing. Chuckles. "Freudian."
"Is it?"
"Worried you're gonna break between someone's legs?"
Fuck, when did he get so perceptive? "You that desperate for details on me and Leighton?"
"Fuck yeah. But that's not what I'm getting at."
"What are you getting at?"
"Why aren't you reveling in afterglow?"
"Been at work all morning."
"Still." He studies my expression. "What happened?"
"Nothing."
He shakes his head. "Something."
"Why do you think I'm gonna tell you?"
"It ever occur to you that I love you and want you to be happy?"
"No."
"I do."
"You're being earnest."
"I'm not gonna admit this again, but I want you both to be happy."
"You knew she was into me?"
"Everybody but you knew she was into you."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Not mine to tell." He turns, moves into his suite, starts setting up. "I don't know what you did. Or what she did. But get over it. Or apologize. She's the best thing that ever happened to you."
"I know."
"Don't fuck it up."
"Trying not to."
"You need to do better than that"
"Tell me something I don't know."
"I didn't fuck Kristen."
I can't help but chuckle. I would have bet a lot of money Dean took Kristen home. "That's shocking."