Helena Hunting - Inked Armour

She shook her head, so I locked up the douche mobile and we headed for the elevator. She kept looking over at the staircase. No way could she hike three flights to my condo with the way she was limping. I told her so.

“I don’t like elevators,” she said as the doors opened.

I wasn’t partial either, but carrying her wasn’t an option. “It’s a quick ride.”

She hesitated, but when I put my foot over the sensor to prevent the doors from closing, she went inside. Tenley tucked herself into the corner, gripping the handrails that circled the mirrored steel box. I hit the button for the second floor, then put my arm around her. When we started to move, she latched onto me, burying her face in my chest with an apology. She had no reason to be sorry; the motion of the elevator probably mimicked the sensations of the plane when it dropped. And the windowless, confined space would worsen the vertigo.

I held on to her, stroking her hair, watching our entwined reflection in the mirrors surrounding us. When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, Tenley practically pitched herself into the hall.

She’d only been to my place once, but she remembered where it was and started down the hall. I wouldn’t make her wait until I’d checked all the rooms tonight, as I normally would; she needed to sit down immediately.

Inside, Tenley braced herself on the wall as she gingerly removed her shoes. I put them in the closet beside mine.

TK bounded down the hall and came to me, winding around my legs, peeking out at Tenley.

“Come here, baby girl,” Tenley cooed as she melted into the floor.

TK cocked her little head to the side uncertainly and stayed close to me.

Tenley clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and snapped her fingers. The expression on her face was heartbreaking, as if she expected the snub.

I crouched down and scratched TK’s head. “It’s okay, little buddy, that’s your mom. She went on a trip, but she’s back now.” TK mewed and peeked out from between my ankles. “That’s right, go say hi. She missed you, just like we missed her.”

TK trotted over and sniffed at Tenley’s outstretched hand. It took TK a minute, but eventually she got close enough for Tenley to pick her up. The real crying started then. Silent sobs shook Tenley’s body as she folded around the kitten.

I tried not to be jealous of a stupid cat, but it was difficult to not feel slighted that she got a more heartfelt greeting than I did. The only reason Tenley had touched me so far was because she needed my help, and the elevator freaked her out.

“I missed you so much. I’m sorry I was gone so long. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine, teary and bleak.

Maybe her words weren’t just for TK, maybe they were meant for me, too. I wanted to believe that, but her disappearance and refusal to call made it impossible to trust her. Actions spoke louder than words. As glad as I was to have her home, I was still angry with her for leaving in the first place. Conflicted didn’t begin to describe it.

I was also exhausted. It was almost three in the morning, and I hadn’t slept much the past week, let alone the last three.

“Why don’t you come to the living room? My couch is more comfortable than the floor. Besides, I want to take a look at the scratches on your face.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes. I do. Now come.” I put my hands under her arms and helped her to her feet while she cuddled TK to her chest.

She took in the surroundings as though she were seeing them for the first time. When we reached the living room, she sucked in a breath, her eyes on the new art adorning the walls.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated that my feelings for her were so apparent in the designs. “You want something to drink?”

“Please.” She sank down into the corner of the couch and pulled her legs up, turning so she could see the pictures hanging above it.

“You want beer or wine? Or something stronger?”

“Stronger might be good.”

I poured two glasses of scotch, resisting the urge to shoot mine and refill it immediately. I was pretty wound up and I had a lot of questions, but overwhelming her two minutes after she walked in the door—particularly after a showdown with Sienna—wouldn’t be in either of our best interests.

I handed her a glass and Tenley took a tentative sip. Her nose scrunched up in disgust.

“You don’t like it?” I asked, holding back a grin.

“It’s fine.” She took another sip, but her lips puckered as she swallowed.

“Don’t be a martyr. I’d rather you not force it down to be polite.”

“Sorry.” She passed me the drink, and I poured the contents into my glass.

“It’s an acquired taste. I’ll get you something else.” I stood up. “And I want to take care of those scratches.”

“Okay.”

She was so timid sitting there on my couch, curled up in a little ball, all the fire stolen out of her. I wanted the old Tenley back, the one who was frisky and snide. I poured her a glass of red and left her with TK sprawled over her lap.

I retrieved the first-aid kit from my bathroom, then wetted a facecloth with scalding water and wrung it out. By the time I got back to the living room, it would be cool enough to wipe her scratches.

“Let’s check the damage.” I sat beside her, getting in close so I could have a good look at what was done to her face.

“It doesn’t feel bad,” Tenley said softly, setting her wine on the coffee table.

The sleeve of her hoodie shifted with the movement, exposing part of her forearm. There were marks there, too. I took her hand and pushed the sleeve back. She flinched, even with the gentle contact. The bruises were old, faded to greenish yellow, wrapping all the way around her wrist. Like a manacle.

“Where did these come from?”

“They’re nothing.” She kept her eyes down as she pulled her sleeve over her wrist.

“Don’t bullshit me.”

She recoiled, and when she looked up, I could see her trepidation. She swallowed and clasped her hands. “Trey got a little aggressive.”

“Aggressive how?” My imagination threw out all sorts of scenarios, and all of them made me want to run him over with my car. Repeatedly.

“He grabbed my wrist harder than he should have. It wasn’t intentional, and I bruise easily.”

“Are you making excuses for that cocksucker?” I asked, incredulous.

“No. You asked what happened, and I’m telling you.”

She was still too timid. I didn’t like it, and her explanation had a lot of holes. “Did he leave any more marks?”

She shook her head. “Just the ones on my wrist. Do you want to look at my cheek now?”

I let it go. For now. While I inspected the scratches, she sat perfectly still, the model patient. It reminded of when I put that little cupcake tattoo on her, an inch to the left of her kitty.

I tilted her chin up and angled her head. She shifted closer, and her shin pressed against the outside of my thigh. Her hand came to rest on my knee. I jerked at the contact, and she pulled away. I wanted to reach over and put her hand back, but didn’t.

“Sienna has sharp nails,” I said. She’d raked them over my skin more than once.

In a couple of places, blood had welled and dried. The paranoid side of me wanted a doctor to check for tetanus and worse, but no bodily fluids had been passed—so Tenley was probably safe.

I hated that my past was the cause of this; Tenley had already dealt with enough. We both had. This wasn’t how I’d envisioned her return. I ran my fingers gently along her cheek, and she jumped.

“Does that hurt?” I asked, worried.

“No.” It came out a little breathless.

I dabbed at the scratches with the facecloth, wiping the blood away. Then I sprayed them with disinfectant and used a Q-tip to apply antibiotic ointment.

When I was done, Tenley shifted to the side, hissing at the movement.

“You need to get your hip checked out—it’s a mess.”

“It’s just achy.”

“Don’t lie to me. It pisses me the fuck off.”

She shied away, which was understandable. I was irritated and taking it out on her. So much for sidelining the anger.

I slid my arms around her, pulling her against me. Her back hit my chest and I dropped my forehead on her shoulder. “You don’t have to front if you’re in pain. It doesn’t help either of us. Just let me take care of you.”

The stiffness in her body eased, and I closed my eyes as her fingers drifted along the back of my hand to my forearm. God, I missed the way it felt to be close to her; to touch her, to be touched by her. Up, up, up her hand went; over my biceps, my shoulder, my neck, until it reached my hair, sliding through the strands. I lifted my head, my nose skimming her collarbone. I barely resisted the urge to follow with my mouth. We had too much to talk about to go there yet.

She turned into me. “I missed you.”

Her palm rested against my cheek and she urged my head up higher. Her mouth was right there.

She was the one who leaned in.

She was the one who drew me closer.

Her lips pressed against mine. She tasted just as I remembered . . . but it wasn’t the same.

What I was doing to Hayden wasn’t fair. I owed him a conversation in which I allowed him his anger. One where I accepted responsibility for leaving without an explanation. But it had been weeks since I’d felt anything good at all. His arms around me gave me the first true grounding since my return to Arden Hills.