Inked Page 14

  “Sure.” I choked out the word.

  He was up, out of bed, and moving toward the bathroom connected to my room. He disappeared inside. I heard the sound of the shower starting. I sat up in bed, burying my face in my hands. What was wrong with me? Could I have handled that any worse?

  I loved him too. My chest felt tight and warm, and it was screaming at me because I loved him so much.

  I got out of bed and marched into the bathroom after him. He was in my shower. This gorgeously fit, sexy-as-hell man was in my shower, his dark hair visible above the curtain line. I pulled back the shower curtain on him. He looked so freaking out of place in there. The tile needed updating. My array of shampoo bottles, the cheapest brand they sell at Walmart, cluttered up the small area. The water came out as more of a drip than actual pressure on him because I couldn’t afford the plumbing that needed attention. He had my bar soap, all sudsy on his skin, and his hand moved in circular motions on his ass just like I’d told him to do earlier today when I gave my spiel on tattoo care.

  “Nick!” I yelled at him. “What the fuck, Nick!”

  “What?”

  “I’m in love with you, too.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Get in the shower.”

  “No. You’re too fucking good looking. Look at you in there.” I had my eyes on his beautiful body. “I mean, come on. What are you doing with me? Is it just the baby?”

  “You know it’s not just the baby. Get in the shower.”

  “No. I didn’t go to college. I barely graduated high school. And you should have seen my dad when I graduated, he was so proud of me for doing just that. This house—it was my dad’s house. The only reason I own this rundown thing is because he died and left it to me. You and Emma—I understand that. She’s pretty and perfect and sweet. You guys… I don’t understand why you two didn’t work, because trust me, Caleb Mills has nothing on you. So the guy can sing—big fucking deal. I’m going to slap that girl upside her pretty head the next time I see her. Because not even Rockstar Caleb Mills is on your level.”

  “Get in the shower.”

  “No. I’m not finished. I’m afraid I won’t be a great mom. I’m alone. I don’t know if you’ve noticed that. But I’m not good at making friends. My only real friend is Finn, probably because Finn could be friends with a rock. I’m just kind of a loner. That never concerned me before, but it concerns me now. Who am I going to ask for advice on baby stuff?”

  “Me. It’ll be me.”

  This was it. This was why I was so terrified. I was afraid this sexy, handsome, heart-pounder, panty-dropper of a man would eventually come to his senses and ditch me. Ditch me and our baby. Then I’d be more alone than ever. I could handle being alone when it was only me to worry about. But with a baby? How was I going to care for a baby all on my own?

  Nick’s interest in me didn’t made sense. I think that was why I accused him of ‘hate-fucking’ me last week. Because even his out-of-control, wild passionate sex didn’t make sense. I’d never inspired that kind of love-making in any guy I’d been with before. Maybe the ink on my skin gave the impression that I was unique and cool, wild and fun. But underneath, inside, I had always felt exceptionally average.

  In bed. In life. In love.

  Average. So unexcitingly average.

  He hit the nozzle for the shower, turning it off. “I’m going to take care of you. You and our little pear. Why do you think I’ve been spending so much time volunteering? Because I needed to get my job back. I needed to have that income... for you, for our baby. I like sea turtles, Amanda, but not that fucking much.” He moved a little closer, his hand grabbing the shower curtain. “I’m sorry about your dad. I can tell you really loved him and you miss him. I’ll be your person. I promise I’ll be your person. I suck ass at making friends too. We can be loners together. And the real truth is, Emma Winchester isn’t on your fucking level. Not even close.”

  I stared up at his blue eyes, his dark lashes wet from the water. It was quiet in the bathroom. My heart pounded in my chest. He had me at one word—pear. He called our baby a pear, and nothing had ever hit me harder.

  “Get in the shower.” He repeated softly.

  I listened this time.

  I stepped in carefully, and the moment I did, Nick wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He pressed his wet body against mine. I closed my eyes. He felt like heaven. If heaven were a person, a feeling—it would be Nick.

  ~ CHAPTER 40 ~

  NICK

  Before I knew it, it was morning, the following day. Amanda—beautiful, naked, asleep—lay next to me, snuggled under the covers. I didn’t want to wake her. I didn’t want to move. But I needed to go before I was late again for volunteering with the ATV riders. My mind kept replaying moments from our night together.

  The shower.

  Fuck me, that shower. After our conversation, we’d showered together. I’d kissed her under the running water. I’d taken the soap, and I used it like my fingers, taking my time, touching every square inch of her skin, running lines over the ink on her skin. Thinking on it now had my body buzzing, had my cock growing hard. The curves of her body, the way she felt all sudsy and wet, was nothing short of amazing. One of the best moments of my life.

  We didn’t have sex. I didn’t want to push for more when everything else had been so mind-blowing.

  Amanda was it. The girl of my dreams.

  I don’t know how I ever mistook love with Emma or anyone else. Because every one of my relationships before Amanda paled in comparison to what I felt now. I could wait. I felt like we should wait before we had sex again. Get to know each other more. Dig deeper into what this was. I had a fear of misconnecting again. I wouldn’t jeopardize everything with Amanda by screwing up sex with her for a third time. So for now, torturous showers would have to be it for us.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  I’d woken her somehow.

  “Hi.”

  “Mmmm, it’s way too early.”

  “I know. I gotta go, though.”

  “No. Stay.” She rolled into me, stretching an arm over my chest. She nestled her face into my ribs. “I love you, Nick.” She said it out loud, so effortlessly. “I love you.”

  I laid there on my back, breathing hard, heart pounding. “Say it again,” I muttered.

  “I love you.”

  Nothing had ever sounded so good. My heart went from happily racing to pounding mad, out of control. My hands, they started tingling. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

  Holy fuck, not now!

  Of all moments, why now?!

  I sat up, pulling away from her, burying my face in my hands. My hands—I couldn’t stop them from shaking. I couldn’t stop the feeling of pins and needles. They burned. I made a noise in my throat, a groan, because this wasn’t fair. So far from fair. Once, in college, I’d been with a girl, and I had her in bed with me the next morning, just like this, and she witnessed one of my panic attacks. The girl got out of bed and left so fast, probably writing me off as crazy. Never texted me back again. Just ghosted me.

  Amanda had seen my panic attacks before. But what the fuck would she think about this one? Because it was coming fast and hard and right after she said ‘I love you’ to me.

  But I couldn’t dwell on her. I couldn’t have focused on her even if I wanted to. Because the only emotion I felt was intense, crippling fear, and it hit me like a freight train in my chest. I struggled to catch even one decent breath. Then came the tears. I sobbed like a child, tears blurring my vision. This panic attack was ten times more intense than the others she’d witnessed. I had nowhere to go. No place to hide. No control whatsoever. My shame, the full extent of my mental illness, was on display for her to witness.

  The next several minutes were a blur. A huge blur. When some normalcy finally returned, I felt her close to me, hanging on to my arm.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nick.”

  I blinked and blinked. I’d blacked out for a minute. Bec
ause truthfully, I could barely remember the last few minutes.

  She was crying, sobbing herself.

  So I knew it must have been bad. One of my worst.

  “Nick, I’m so sorry.”

  I pulled away and got out of bed. Where were my clothes? “Don’t apologize,” I scolded. I found my pants on the floor. Stumbling, clearing my throat, I pulled them on. “Don’t apologize, you did nothing.”

  “I never know what to do. I don’t know if I should call 911. Nick, I’ve never been so scared. Nick, look at me.”

  I couldn’t look at her. I felt so ashamed. So embarrassed. I was absolutely disgusted with myself. I couldn’t be normal for even two seconds? Two fucking seconds? This beautiful, naked, sexy woman had me in her bed, telling me she loved me, and that was my reaction?

  I hated myself.

  “Nick. Look at me.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Dammit, Nick.”

  I lifted my eyes. Her tits—her pink, round, puffy, pregnant nipples. Her swollen little belly—swollen with our baby. The flowers swirling on her skin. Her face. Red. Stained with tears. “I love you,” she said to me. Again. After everything I just put her through.

  “You too,” I said to her. It was all I could manage right now. I grabbed my shirt off the floor.

  And I left.

  ~ CHAPTER 41 ~

  AMANDA

  It took me all morning to get out of bed. And even longer to get ready for work. Eventually, I made it in, about two hours after I’d been scheduled to start. John wasn’t in today, thank God, and Finn barely blinked at my late arrival.

  “Yo,” he said to me.

  “Yo,” I said back.

  “You look nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  I dropped my bag on the counter. I’d spent the morning blow drying my hair, curling it, and doing my makeup. I needed one hell of a distraction after Nick’s panic attack and brisk departure this morning. And getting all glammed up had helped, if only a little.

  “You ready for tonight?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Dinner.”

  You know what? Finn looked nice too. He wore a button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair was styled, which was a pleasant surprise since half the time he rolled into work like he’d just rolled out of some girl’s bed. “Dinner?”

  “Lou invited me over for dinner. I’m heading there straight from work. Nick’s mom is in town.” Finn squinted at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Wait, is this news to you?”

  “His mom!”

  “Yeah, she showed up from Maine yesterday. Mrs. Jasmine and Nick’s niece, Samantha are staying at Nick’s house. I met them both yesterday, sort of, through the door with Lou. She invited me to dinner tonight. I’m flipping the fuck out though. Lou and I haven’t even met in person yet. We’ve just been talking through the door. Well, more recently we upgraded to a window. So I’m excited to see her face-to-face, but also I’m scared to death. We have great chemistry through doors. Do you think that means we still will have the same chemistry without the door? It worked for those people on Love Is Blind, right?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to process. “I don’t think I’m invited. Nick never mentioned this.”

  “Nick’s mom said you were coming too. You and Nick. I think it’s going to be super casual. Just dinner at his house.”

  “I need to go. I need to take the day off.” I grabbed my bag from the counter, backing away. “I’m too pregnant for this shit.” Before Finn could say anything else, I had my bag over my shoulder and was pushing out the door.

  I didn’t go home.

  I went to the pier. I needed a day off. I needed some time to relax. I needed my dad’s friend Bobby, whom I knew would be at the pier. Like always. So I headed there, to sit and fish with him today. Nothing else. No more drama. I needed peace. Just peace today.

  ~ CHAPTER 42 ~

  NICK

  The thing about my panic attacks, especially the one I had this morning, was that they were exhausting. Exhausting and often debilitating. Today was my very first day back at work at the North Carolina Aquatic Preservation Society, and it felt like I’d taken eight Benadryl for breakfast and someone had asked me to operate heavy machinery. I blindly went through the motions. I did my best to appear normal. I wore my beanie all day for security, even though it was June now and increasingly hard to pass off as ‘cool.’

  When I finished work later that evening, I felt like the Walking Dead. I even tripped on the cement on my way out to my car. I wasn’t even sure how safe it was for me to drive back to Amanda’s.

  I’d been neglecting my mom. I’d sent her a text message yesterday, saying I was staying the night at Amanda’s. Today I wanted to do the same. But if I was going to cancel on her again, I felt I owed her at least a phone call. So, squinting into the sinking sun, I dialed her number.

  She picked up after one ring.

  “Mom? Hello? Hey, it’s Nick.”

  “There you are Nick, finally,” she said over the phone. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

  “I’ve been at work.”

  “I know. So dinner is at 7. Don’t be late.”

  I had to pinch my eyes shut. “What?”

  “Dinner. Remember, dinner. I wanted to meet your girlfriend and Lou’s boyfriend. Finn’s already over here. He’s such a gentleman. So handsome too.” I could picture Finn standing right in front of her as she gushed over him. “He told me Amanda knows about dinner. He told her earlier today at work. He just called her to confirm. He said she’s on her way.”

  “Fuck, Mom!”

  “Nick! Language, please.”

  “I’m sorry. But Mom, I hate you a little right now for this.”

  “Oh, you’ll get over it. Oh!” I heard a noise in the background, a knock at the door followed by some commotion over the line. “Oh hello,” I heard Mom saying. “You must be Amanda. It’s so nice to meet you, honey. Come in, come in.”

  “Mom. Mom!”

  Nothing.

  “Mom!”

  She was ignoring me, so I hung up. Shit. I fumbled the phone in my hands, shoving it in my pocket. Amanda was there, at my house. She went to meet my mom and I wasn’t even there! I had to get there. My exhaustion vanished, replaced with adrenaline, as I hurried for my car. I jumped in the driver’s seat like the cops were after me, started the engine, and drove as fast as I could manage straight for my rental house.

  I was going to lose her—fucking lose the girl of my dreams. Between my panic attacks, being forced to meet my mother, and all the bad sex I’d been giving her lately—she’d be gone for sure. I’d bored Emma to death. That other girl had ghosted me before I ever even learned her name. And I was certain Amanda would be my next casualty.

  I made it to the house a minute later. With my laptop bag from work over my shoulder, I barreled up the stairs two at a time, busting in through the front door.

  On the other side, everyone was all calm, all smiles, all polite. The air felt light. The mood even lighter. How did my mom do it? Every garden party she’d ever hosted on our family’s luscious lawn back home looked exactly like this.

  Preppy, polished, and fake as hell.

  Amanda was in a blouse. Soft material. Ivory colored. It did two things—hid her tattoos and her stomach. She had a glass of lemonade filled with ice in her hand. Clear evidence of my mom. And Finn—ew, his hair was shiny with hairspray. He wore a button up shirt, the guy taking a play out of Amanda’s playbook, also covering most of his tattoos. Then there was Lou. She looked like she’d washed her hair today. Good for her.

  I took a breath, locking my fingers on top of my head, feeling the fabric of my knit hat.

  “Just in time,” Mom said to me, coming into the living room from the kitchen with a plate of what looked to be bacon-wrapped scallops. Her blonde hair was styled meticulously around her round face, as usual. “You look sweaty, honey. Why don’t you go wash up? Dinner won
’t be ready for at least thirty more minutes.”

  “Hi, Nick,” my niece Samantha said, as she hopped off the couch. She gave me the cutest, quickest, shyest hug.

  “Hi, Sam.”

  It was hard to be annoyed seeing her face. She moved back to the couch. This had to be especially awkward for her. That was my mom’s specialty—making teenagers feel awkward. “I’m just going to go wash up then,” I muttered. “Amanda. Come with me?”

  She nodded. “Excuse me,” she said to the others. Then she followed, all calm, all quiet, down the hallway. She stepped with me into my room.

  “Fuck,” I said the moment the door clicked closed behind us.

  I dropped my laptop bag on the floor.

  She didn’t say anything. She only stepped deeper into my room. I noticed she had on flats—like the dress shoes women sometimes wore. I’d only ever seen her in sneakers. Her makeup was soft, her hair tied back, and she barely looked like the girl I loved. Not that this was a bad look on her. I just wasn’t sure it felt natural. “What are you doing, Amanda?”

  “I showed up for dinner.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No, it’s fine. How are you?” She picked at her fingernails avoiding my eyes. “I’ve been worried.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Has another happened since?”

  “No. They don’t happen back to back. I should be good for a few days.”

  “You terrified me.”

  I breathed in deep. “I know.”

  “Your mom is nice.”

  “Yeah. She’s alright. Most of the time.” Her eyes were still on her nails instead of me. “You look nice. Different, it’s not my favorite look on you, but nice.”

  “Um. Thanks, I guess.”

  Crap. I pulled off my hat, tossing it onto my dresser. This wasn’t going well. I ran my hands through my hair. “I mean—”

  “Nick, I should get back out to the living room so nobody thinks we’re back here doing something we shouldn’t be doing.”