Tears burned her eyes, and every iota of her being told her not to say what she’d intended to, but she had to. “That’s okay. But, Tank, I think we need some space, for the girls’ sake, and if you’d rather not go to the cemetery tomorrow, I understand.”
His jaw clenched, but there was no escaping the sadness in his eyes. “If you need space, I’ll leave. But this doesn’t change how I feel, and I can’t see my feelings for you and the girls doing anything but getting stronger.”
How was it possible that they could feel so much for each other? Especially now, when her world was falling apart? A tear slipped down her cheek.
He cupped her cheek, brushing away the tear with his thumb. “You may not be ready for this now, but one day you will be.” He paused just long enough for his words to sink in. “I’ve gotten to know River through you and the girls, and I would like to be there tomorrow to say goodbye to him.”
She nodded, trying hard not to cry. How could ending them when they’d only just gotten started hurt so bad?
“I backed up all of River’s files on the Wicked Ink server last night, and Baz backed them up to his server, too.”
“I don’t know what that means.” Her head was such a mess, she’d forgotten about saving River’s files.
“It means they’re safe. It’s like being in a vault. You’ll never lose them. Zeke digitized the box of pictures, too.” He pushed his hand into his pocket and handed her four flash drives. “Each of these has all of River’s files and the pictures from the box on it, too. If you lose one, you’ll still have more, and even if you lose them all, I can make as many as you want. Do you know how to use flash drives?”
“Yes.” She wiped her eyes, feeling like her chest was being crushed. “How did you do this if you were here all night?”
“The backups are done online. Zeke brought me the flash drives when he picked up the box of pictures and brought them back about half an hour before Junie woke up.”
“Tank…” She didn’t know what to say. Was she making a mistake, or was this really the right thing for the girls? Was the right thing supposed to hurt so much?
Rosie ran out of her bedroom, yelling, “Mouse pincakes!” She barreled into Tank’s legs and grinned up at him. “I help!”
Tank ruffled Rosie’s hair and crouched before her, sadness welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, cheeky girl, but I have to go take care of a few things. I heard your mama makes great pancakes, though.”
“You’re leavin’?” Junie asked as she walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah, Twitch. I have work to do.”
Junie stared at him for a minute, brows knitted, and put her hand on his knee. “Can I go with you?”
“I go!” Rosie exclaimed.
Tank’s jaw tightened. “Sorry, but not today, babes.”
“I pwomise to be good,” Junie pleaded.
Leah felt her heart shredding.
“Maybe another time, okay?” Tank put his arms around the girls, looking gutted as he pulled them into a hug and closed his eyes, like he was savoring the moment. He kissed their cheeks and pushed to his feet, meeting Leah’s gaze. “Call or text if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.”
She nodded, afraid she’d cry if she tried to talk.
He headed for the door, and the girls ran after him. Junie grabbed his hand and said, “Are you comin’ back?”
He looked down at the girls, nodding. “Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Why not today?” Junie asked.
“Because Tank has a life to get back to, honey.” One that doesn’t include taking care of us. She went to them, standing by the front door.
Junie glowered at her, her lower lip trembling.
Leah picked her up. “It’s okay, Juju. We’re going to make pancakes and have a great day.” Tears slid down Junie’s cheeks, and it took everything Leah had to hold her tears back. And heck if Tank didn’t look like he was ready to break down, too.
Rosie rubbed Junie’s foot. “He comin’ back!”
“Pwomise?” Junie pleaded. “Wickeds always keep their pwomises.”
“I promise, Twitch,” he said firmly, and with a single nod, he headed out the front door.
Junie pushed from Leah’s arms and ran after him. “Tank!”
Rosie and Leah ran after her, but Tank already had her in his arms, one hand on the back of her head, their foreheads touching, and he was talking quietly. Junie nodded, and Tank hugged her.
Leah’s chest constricted as he set Junie on her feet and said, “Go to your mama.”
Junie went to Leah and leaned against her side. Rosie went to Junie and hugged her as Tank climbed into his truck. He started the engine, taking one last long look at her and the girls, his grief coalescing with theirs, as real as the tears filling Leah’s eyes as he drove away.
She’d known it was going to hurt, but she’d never imagined it would feel like he was taking pieces of all of them with him.
TANK DROVE HOME with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He’d experienced all kinds of pain in his lifetime, but being sent away by Leah was a different type of wound, leaving him feeling empty, and he had no fucking idea what to do with that. He showered, guzzled a cup of coffee, threw on his leather vest, and climbed onto his motorcycle. There were only three surefire ways to clear his head—working at the tattoo shop, riding, or fucking. It was too early to meet the guys for their regular Sunday ride, and the only woman he wanted to be buried deep inside had just booted him to the curb. He started up his bike and headed to the tattoo shop.
He’d bought a two-bay auto shop at foreclosure several years ago, and with the help of his uncle and cousins, he’d renovated it. The brick shop was painted gray, with large tinted-glass windows out front and a red door between them. A black sign with WICKED INK in gold lettering spanned almost the full width of the shop above the door and windows. He’d painted the Dark Knights emblem—a skull with sharp brows and a mouth full of jagged fangs—on one side of the building and the club creed on the other side: LOVE, LOYALTY, AND RESPECT FOR ALL.
He parked between Cait’s car and Gia’s Jeep. The shop wasn’t usually open that early on Sundays, but since Cait and Gia were taking over Tank’s clients and operational duties while he was helping Leah, they were putting in extra hours. His other employee, tattooist Aria Bad, wouldn’t be in until later. He climbed off his bike and headed inside.
Tank didn’t like to feel confined, and he’d designed Wicked Ink with an open layout. The lobby was one big open space with a reception counter, two leather couches, three chairs, coffee tables littered with tattoo books and body jewelry displays. It was separated from the work areas by a half wall. There were six separate workstations, three on each side of the shop, separated by half walls, with an aisle in between, and Tank’s office and the supply room were in the back.
Gia looked up from behind the reception counter, her thinly manicured brows knitting, bright-red lips pursed. “Hey, boss. You’re not supposed to be here.” She came around the counter in one of her skintight minidresses and heels, her typical attire. She was all legs and womanly curves, with colorful tattoos decorating her light-brown skin and a short mass of tight curls that stuck out in all directions.