Clipped Wings

18

TENLEY

I took my place in the tattooing chair, straddling it as he suggested. It reminded me of one of those reclining chairs in a dental office, except without arms. He put on mellow music and snapped on a new pair of gloves. I watched, anxiety warring with excitement, as he assembled his tattoo machine.

When everything was ready, he turned to me. “Last chance to back out.”

He’d said that to me before, the first time we’d had sex. Everything had changed since then. What started as an overwhelming physical attraction had transformed into something I hesitated to identify. I sought solace in Hayden; in his warmth, in the comfort of his body. Our unyielding chemistry made everything but us cease to exist when we were together. Sex with Hayden—anything involving Hayden—was perfectly consuming. I was terrified of losing that.

With the exception of Tuesday night, Hayden’s presence in my bed fended off the worst of the nightmares. Although my nights were never truly peaceful, they were better with him. It wasn’t just sleep that improved; everything had, unless I was alone. In the hours without him, when I wasn’t otherwise occupied, the pain resurfaced. My remorse over things that couldn’t be changed was like acid, burning through skin and bone, seeping into the heart of me. So I stayed as busy as possible, avoiding the solitary moments I’d coveted previously.

“I’m too invested to do something crazy like that.”

He studied me, a rueful grin pulling at his mouth. “It goes both ways.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple, the deeper meaning not lost on either of us.

My fears had little to do with putting the tattoo on my body and everything to do with how I felt about Hayden. This tattoo not only guaranteed his continued presence in my life but it held the possibility of real healing, too. It was my attempt at finding closure, at putting everything behind me by accepting it, owning it, wearing it on my skin. But I couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not I would lose Hayden in the process when he realized I could never be fixed. Hayden reclined the backrest so I wasn’t completely upright. The tattoo machine buzzed to life, and Hayden’s gloved palm came to rest at the nape of my neck. Even the most innocent contact with him brought on a wave of calming energy. I’d come to rely on it, particularly at night when I was on the cusp of sleep. It felt like a physical manifestation of our emotional connection.

The sharp bite of the needle pierced my skin. The discomfort was much like it had been with the cupcake tattoo. Hayden worked in silence at first, presumably to give me time to adjust to the sensation. After a few passes with ink, he wiped the area with a cool cloth, soothing the sting. When he reached my shoulder, the prickle grew more pronounced, so I assumed he was tattooing over the scars. The pain was manageable, but then it didn’t compare to what I’d experienced after the crash.

Tonight I planned to divulge something about the accident; I knew I owed Hayden at least some small insights into my past despite my fear of opening up. I just didn’t know how much yet. Enough to appease him without risking the tenuous relationship we were building. For all of his armor, Hayden became increasingly transparent the more time I spent with him. He didn’t do things halfway. He was either all in or not at all. And that trait wasn’t isolated to the bedroom. With the outline completed, he would feel compelled to finish the design. It was a horrible abuse of power on my part. But now I needed him in ways that extended beyond his role as my artist.

“Tenley?” he asked, breaking my reverie.

“Mm.” I had been staring at his profile, lost in my thoughts.

“Are you hurting? You made a . . . noise.” He rolled back in his chair. “Maybe we need to take a break.”

“I don’t need a break. How long has it been?” I lifted my head, my cheek damp from resting against the vinyl.

“About forty-five minutes. You’re doing great, but you’ve been quiet, and then you made a sound like maybe you were uncomfortable.” He looked wary.

“I’m okay.” I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. The cold air hit my chest, reminding me I was shirtless. “Sorry!”

I cupped myself in an attempt at modesty. His tongue ring popped out to slide between his lips, his eyes on my barely covered chest.

“I definitely need a break,” he said decisively.

The buzz of the tattoo machine stopped and the background music became more prominent.

He stood up and turned around, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Hayden sauntered across the room, adjusting himself, and slipped out the door. I’d known the attraction between us wouldn’t wane during the session, but I hadn’t expected to find it debilitating, especially since this was as close as we could get physically for the next week. When he returned, he brought bottled water.

I took a long drink. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You need to stay hydrated.” He dropped back into his chair. “How are you feeling so far?”

“I’m good,” I reassured him again, even though the vague burning sensation on the right side of my back continued to grow. I didn’t want to think too much about how the second half of the tattoo would feel.

Hayden tilted his head back and drained half the bottle. I watched his Adam’s apple bob. Strange how something so automatic could seem sexy.

“You sure? You’re awful quiet.”

“I’m sorry.” My focus so far had been singularly on the physical sensation, keeping my mind clear of the memories associated with the reasons behind the tattoo.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m just checking to see where you’re at.”

“I’d tell you if it was too much.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, but I’ll take your word for it. At least for now. Ready to get back to it?” he asked.

I handed him my half-full bottle and he capped it, setting it on the floor beside my chair. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and turned on the machine.

“How far are you?” I asked.

“We’re making good progress. I’m almost halfway through the right side, but the left will be more challenging. Since the scarring is more severe, I expect it’s going to take longer and we’ll need more breaks.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

He rolled in close, and the needle touched my skin again. The discomfort increased when he passed over my ribs and decreased again as he went lower. This time, I couldn’t stop the memories from playing out like a photo album.

Hayden’s left foot tapped as he worked. I could see his Technicolor arm in my periphery, and if I strained hard enough, I could still make out his profile.

“Hayden?”

He pulled back immediately. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine.” I needed a distraction. If I could get him to talk about his past, it might help keep my mind off my own. I ran my fingers over the vines leading to the bleeding heart tattoo. “Will you tell me about this?”

When he stayed silent, I turned my head enough so I could see him. “Please?”

“Are you going to fill me in on why I’m marking you with this?” he asked, bartering for information.

I had a feeling once the outline was done, the next few nights—in addition to being physically uncomfortable—would be emotionally tumultuous. I conceded. “I’ll tell you about the accident.”

“Tonight?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

I settled back in the chair. “But only if you go first.”

A deep furrow creased Hayden’s brow as he resumed his work. “I got the tattoo after my parents were killed.”

“Both of them?” I asked, shocked. Cassie said his mother died, but she didn’t mention that he lost his father as well.

“Yeah.”

“How old were you?”

“Almost eighteen.”

“Was it an accident?” I asked, wondering how close we were in our losses.

Hayden turned off the tattoo machine and I shifted so I could see him better. “They were murdered.”

“Oh, my God.” When Cassie said he lost his mother, I assumed it had been some kind of accident or illness, not this. I sat up, bringing the towel with me to cover my chest. “What happened?”

His eyes were on his forearm, the vine-wrapped heart on display. “They were shot. I found them.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh Hayden. That must have been terrifying.” It was bad enough to find out they’d been murdered, but that Hayden had been the one to discover them was horrific. No matter how hard I tried, I could never erase the violent image of Connor’s mangled body from my memory. I doubted I ever would. Hayden’s haunted expression told me it was the same for him.

“It’s been almost seven years. It was a long time ago.” Hayden picked the tattoo machine up again, but I didn’t take the cue and lie back down.

“It doesn’t make it any less traumatic.” I wanted to reach out and ease the ache that was so obvious in him, but his posture was rigid, his eyes dark, and I wasn’t sure the contact would be welcome.

“I got the bleeding heart as a reminder of what my choices cost me.”

“You say it like you were responsible.”

“I made it easier for it to happen. I was grounded, which was normal, because even then I couldn’t follow rules. They’d gone to some event and told me not to go anywhere. As soon as they left, I Ferris Buellered the shit out of my room and took off to get fucked up with some friends. My mom had this planter at the front door, and I kept a key hidden under it. It was gone when I came home.” He shook his head in disgust, his eyes on the floor. His chest rose and fell as his palms moved over his thighs, his anxiety transparent.

“I assumed I’d moved it or taken it with me by accident, which was dumb, because I would never do that. I was so messed up at the time; high and drunk. I tried the door anyway, even though I was sure it’d be locked. I’d done that before, locked myself out. I had to break a window to get in. My dad was pissed. He even threatened to put in an alarm system. It was why I stowed the key in the first place.”

I could see where this was going. I already understood so much better his hard exterior. He carried the weight of their deaths with him, just as I did. I reached out tentatively and touched his forearm. I sensed he needed the reassurance before he could go on. His gloved fist unfurled, and I put my hand in his. He closed his fingers around mine and squeezed.

“I thought I was so damn lucky when the door opened. It confused me, at first. My dad’s shoes were at the front door, which meant they’d come home early. Usually they waited up so they could ground me some more. But the house was totally silent. I thought maybe my ruse worked. Nothing was out of place on the main floor, not a goddamn thing. But there was this smell . . .” Hayden took a deep, unsteady breath. “Anyway, when I went upstairs, I found them in bed. My dad had a hole in his head and my mom had been shot in the chest.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry you had to see that,” I whispered.

Corroding his armor, the emotions he tried to contain leaked through. It gave me a glimpse of the boy he’d once been.

“It’s my fault. I’m the one who left the key there, and I’m the reason they came home early. They shouldn’t have been there that night. Whoever killed them must have cased the house. My parents had a safe in their room, and the fucker tried to get into it after he killed them.”

I studied the hard lines of his face. His emotions were painfully familiar, because he, too, wore his loss in a shroud of self-blame. He stared back at me, looking lost. He let go of my hand, and a glove-covered finger swept under my eye to wipe away a tear. “I don’t deserve these.”

“You couldn’t have known that would happen,” I said softly.

“If I hadn’t been a shit teenager, my parents might still be alive.”

If only Hayden knew how well I related. Although truly, it wasn’t his fault—whoever killed his parents could have found a way into the house, key or no key.

I didn’t express those thoughts, though. It didn’t matter if it was true. He would still carry the blame, just as I would always know my truth.

“Did they ever find the person who did it?” I asked.

“No. For a while I wondered if it was someone I knew, or maybe someone who knew my dad. Only the rooms upstairs had been messed with. But some rookie cop processed the evidence incorrectly, so it ended up inadmissible. They closed the case.”

“Wasn’t there anything they could do?”

Hayden scoffed. “And make the CPD culpable for their fuckup? Not a chance.”

I understood better Hayden’s disdain for rules, given that they had failed him so entirely. How long had he tried to expel the cancerous emotions that ate him from the inside out? His armor of ink and steel protected him; it kept most at a distance. Getting to know the man underneath would never be easy. And yet here he was, letting me in, hoping I would do the same. We were both slaves to the guilt we harbored. The damage was so profound on both sides. I worried we might never reach a middle ground where we could find freedom from our pasts.

“You need another break,” Hayden said.

I began to protest, but he cut me off. “We’ve been at it for close to two hours. The right side is finished. You need to stretch before we start up again.” His tone left no room for negotiation.

Now that I was well beyond the point of backing out, I should have felt relieved. This was what I wanted. But after what Hayden divulged, I was suddenly filled with fear and remorse. He had given me exactly what I’d asked for. He would expect the same in return, but the more ink he added, the more vulnerable I felt. There was a chance I might shatter if I revealed too much.

Holding the towel tightly, I took Hayden’s offered hand. Once upright, I wobbled, my right hip sore.

“Stiff?” he asked, holding me steady at the waist.

I leaned into him, using him for balance. “A little.”

His hands dropped lower, thumbs anchored above my pelvic bone while he rubbed slow circles into the tight muscles at my hips. Reveling in the touch and humming with appreciation, I rested my head on his chest as he massaged the ache away.

“Better?” he asked.

I put more weight on my right leg; the stiffness had eased some. “Yes.”

He shrugged off his button-down shirt and draped it over my shoulders. I pushed my arms through the too-long sleeves. I waited patiently as he rolled them up to my wrists and fastened the buttons. My response to his touch was amplified by what I couldn’t have. Reading my mind, he tilted my chin up and lowered his mouth to mine. “Don’t worry, kitten. We’ll survive a week.”

When I returned from the bathroom I found him in the main shop, talking animatedly with Lisa. She saw me first, smiling when she noticed my attire.

“Hayden says you’re a pro.”

I blushed at the compliment. “I don’t know about that, but I think I’m holding my own.” The right side of my back stung, like a fresh sunburn. Hayden’s reference to catharsis made sense now, but I feared the point where the internal and external pain matched in intensity. “We should get at it.” He ushered me back into the private room.

Hayden must have sensed my anxiety over the second half of the session.

“It’s probably best if I start at the bottom of the wing and work toward your shoulder. You’ve been amazing so far, but I think if we get the most painful part out of the way, you might be able to relax better through the rest.”

He passed me a stress ball to squeeze when it became too much to handle. Hayden enforced breaks every fifteen minutes or so, rubbing my arm and telling me how well I was doing. The pain was almost intolerable. I wasn’t sure how I would manage if he had to go over it multiple times before the ink took.

When we made it past the difficult areas, Hayden asked the question I’d hoped to avoid. “Will you tell me about the accident now?”

No. “What do you want to know?”

“Would I be right to assume the scar on your hip and the ones on your back happened at the same time?” he prompted.

“They did.” I compartmentalized the memories, pushing them down, willing myself to stay in the present.

“A while back, you said your mom passed away . . .” he trailed off.

“She was with me.”

“Anyone else?” He turned off the tattoo machine, his attention focused on me.

“My dad was there, too.”

“And he’s okay?” Hayden asked. His hope made my heart ache even more.

I shook my head. Tears made him blurry.

“Oh, kitten.” He stripped off his gloves and stroked my cheek. “What happened? Were you in a car accident?”

“We were on a plane. The engine failed.” I barely managed to get the words out.

His mouth went slack. “It crashed?”

I nodded. A tidal wave of emotion rose in me. I’d fought so hard against it, keeping it from pulling me under. I hadn’t considered the possibility that I might find someone who would understand what I had endured and want me anyway, even though I wasn’t whole. For the first time since the crash, I wanted to believe Hayden might empathize with me over the guilt I carried . . . that he might not reject me for my cowardice.

“How did you survive? Wait. You don’t have to answer that. I’m so fucking sorry. I should know better.” He wiped at my tears, but they kept coming, the dam broken. “I’m sorry I pushed. I won’t ask any more questions tonight, okay? I promise. I’ll just let it be for now. I’m so sorry.”

He was frantic in his attempt to calm me. His hands were on my face, in my hair, stroking down my arms. I stilled them with my own, his anxiety canceling mine out.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.” I repeated the phrase in my head until it was true.

“You don’t have to be okay. I know it’s hard,” Hayden said, kissing my forehead.

I shook my head in denial. He didn’t know anything. I’d omitted the most significant details to make telling him bearable.

He rearranged me carefully until I was facing him. I didn’t resist. I wanted his comfort; craved it. One hand rested low on my waist, the other curved around the back of my neck, and he pulled me into his lap. It was the closest he could get to a hug. I, on the other hand, wrapped myself around him and held on tight.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispered.

When my tears dried up, he gave me the option to stop for the night or finish the outline. I chose the latter. It didn’t take long. He was right about the pain; it was all relative. In comparison to what I’d been through, four hours of discomfort was nothing.

When he finished, he turned off the tattoo machine and set it down. His eyes moved over my back, inspecting the art with a critical eye. “We’re done,” he said, satisfied.

“Can I see?” I asked.

“Of course.”

Once again he helped me out of the chair and led me to the three-way mirror. The level of detail was breathtaking. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, too caught up in the dark beauty of the wings now etched into my skin.

“Tenley?”

“Hm?” I glanced at him; he was chewing on his viper bites.

“Are you happy with it?” he asked.

“It’s stunning.” No longer concerned with modesty, I tossed the towel on the chair. “Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and tugged, bringing his mouth down. My emotions were out of control. I wanted him closer, I wanted to push him away. I wanted him inside me, erasing the pain that shredded my insides and echoed over my back.

Hayden’s kiss was gentle, his touch soft. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you let me dress the tattoo?”

“Okay.” Even though he still wore gloves, I laced my fingers through his, unwilling to break our connection. It was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

It hurt when he wiped over the ink a final time and slathered it in a salve. Next, he covered it with plastic wrap and taped it down as an added layer of protection. He talked about aftercare as he worked and I tried to listen, but I kept zoning out. As the adrenaline faded, I was left aching and exhausted.

Once the tattoo was dressed, Hayden helped me into my shirt and fastened the buttons.

“Let’s get you home, kitten.” He opened the door, stepped into the hall, and froze. “Mother of fuck.”

A tall, thin woman with bleached blond hair stood across from Lisa. Her makeup was over the top, as though she expected to be on camera, or maybe a stage. The way she leaned over the counter made her micro-miniskirt ride perilously high on her thigh. Chris’s client couldn’t stop staring, which made me wonder what kind of show she was providing. Even though it was mid-October, she wore a sequined tank top that exposed an inch of midriff. It could have covered more if her chest hadn’t been quite so disproportionately massive, stretching out the material until it looked like it might split at the seams.

There was a huge tattoo on her shoulder that traveled up the side of her neck and wrapped around her biceps. From where I stood, it looked like a snake. It was definitely Hayden’s design. I hated her immediately.

Hayden stepped in front of me, blocking her from view. His hands clenched into fists. “Let’s go out the back,” he said quietly, like he wanted to escape notice.

My stomach turned at the shift in his mood. “Who is that?”

“No one I want to introduce you to.”

“Hayden! There you are! Lisa and I were just talking about you.”

Hayden closed his eyes. “I’m with a client,” he said stiffly as he turned to face her.

“I see that. But it looks like you’re done with her now.” She spoke to him as if every word had underlying meaning I wasn’t privy to. Her hot pink smile seemed forced as her eyes shifted away from Hayden and raked over me. I moved to stand beside him, and when my fingers brushed the back of his hand, he snatched it away. The action spoke volumes.

The tension in the room was palpable. Jamie looked irate, Lisa helpless, and Chris utterly disconcerted. Fury radiated from Hayden like a force field.

“You should go home and take some Tylenol,” he said to me through gritted teeth.

“That’s a good idea.” I tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look at me. I couldn’t understand his reaction, and confusion gave way to hurt when he continued to avoid eye contact. My stomach bottomed out, anxiety pushing its way to the surface. The woman across the room was nothing like me, and they obviously knew each other—how well, I couldn’t be sure. Now that he knew what he had to take on when it came to me, I was terrified he wouldn’t be interested anymore. I hadn’t even told him the worst part yet.

He started to usher me toward the back, but I skirted around him and headed to the front of the studio, right for the woman who eyed me with curious contempt.

I stared right back.

Her smile was malicious as I passed her and pushed the door open, cold fall air hitting my overheated face.

“Well, well, Hayden, I guess I know what you’ve been busy with lately.”

A gust of wind slammed the door shut before Hayden responded.