Helena Hunting - Inked Armour

“How does it feel so far?”

“It’s not bad.”

“It’ll be more irritating because I’m shading instead of outlining, so if you need a break, say the word.”

I started on the scarred side on purpose. Although the ones at her shoulders weren’t bad in comparison to the ones by her hips, they were still sensitive. If I could get the most uncomfortable part out of the way at the beginning of the session, it would make the rest easier to tolerate.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Tenley asked the question I’d been waiting for.

“Will you tell me what happened last night?”

“With Cross?” I dipped the needle in the yellow and brought it back to her skin.

“And Officer Miller.”

“Cross was his usual dick self. I don’t know what his deal is, but he seems to have a penchant for pissing me off.” I made a pass with a fresh, damp cloth. “I know I was an asshole kid, but he’s got one hell of a hate-on for me.”

“I wonder why,” Tenley mused, echoing my thoughts.

I was quiet for a minute, but I couldn’t think of anything beyond my attitude. “I have no idea.”

“What about Officer Miller? The conversation with her seemed okay.”

“She looked into my parents’ case. Like she said before, they need new evidence to have it reopened.”

“What about that painting you mentioned from your parents’ bedroom?”

“Maybe. If it made it to the storage unit.” I stayed focused on her tattoo, switching from yellow to gray ink to add depth.

“We could go this week and have a look while you have time off.”

“It might not even be there,” I said, voicing my predominant fear.

“It wouldn’t hurt to check, though. Unless you don’t want to.”

She was giving me an out. “It’s not that. I mean, I’ve been there before.” I tried to go a bunch of times, but always ended up sitting in the front of the door. The one time I made it past the threshold I ended up on a drug binge that lasted a month and almost cost me more than just my job at Art Addicts.

Tenley glanced at me, her unasked question on her beautiful face.

“It’s just—” I turned off the tattoo machine and put it down. I wanted to find a way to say it without sounding like a huge pussy. “I always believed whoever killed my parents would eventually be caught. Even when they closed the case, I still held on to that hope. If that painting isn’t there, or I’m remembering things wrong, then I’ve got nothing. I’ll be back where I started. I don’t know if I can face the possibility of never having an answer.”

Tenley sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, coming knee to knee with me. “But if you could know either way, wouldn’t that be better? Even if the answer isn’t the one you want?”

I got where she was coming from. Tenley would never have the answers to some of her questions. At least I had the option. I needed to take it so I could move on, regardless of the outcome.

“Okay. We can go sometime this week.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

If it had been anyone other than Tenley looking at me that way, it would have been emasculating. But she got it in a way no one else ever could.

“Why don’t we take a break?” I suggested.

I had reached her shoulder blades and wanted to switch sides. That way she wouldn’t feel compelled to go for hours, and the color would be balanced.

“Okay.”

I stripped off my gloves and hit the back room for bottled water. When I returned, Tenley was standing in front of the three-way mirror with her hands on her hips, admiring the fresh ink. It was flushed pink around the edges, irritated from the shading, but it looked amazing. The shades of bright and pale yellow, along with white and light gray, gave the illusion that the wings were shimmering.

Seeing my ink on her back along with those damned barbells pierced through her pert nipples made my physical reaction impossible to control.

“Ready for me?” she asked.

“We should probably finish the session first.” My brain had clearly taken a vacation; what was in my head came out of my mouth unfiltered.

“What—” She appeared confused at first, until her eyes drifted from my face to my fly. She smiled coyly as she sauntered back to the chair. “When aren’t you ready for that?”

She settled in, shifting around. I could tell her hip was bothering her by the way she moved, but she wasn’t limping. I waited until she was comfortable before I snapped on a new pair of gloves.

“Can I ask you something?” I wheeled around to her left side and turned on the tattoo machine.

“Sure,” she said with a hint of apprehension.

“How often do you have to take painkillers?”

“You mean because of my hip?”

“Is there other pain?” It hadn’t occurred to me there might be additional issues, although it should have.

“Sometimes I get headaches. At first I had them almost every day, but they’re fairly infrequent now.”

“Are they like migraines?” The needle touched her skin, pigment pushing under the surface, giving dimension to the outline almost immediately.

“I guess that’s the best way to describe them. It used to feel like someone was stabbing me in the head. They’d come on without any warning. One second I’d be in the middle of doing something, and the next I’d be on the floor. It was scary.”

“Did they ever figure out the cause?”

“There was nothing concrete, just lots of hypotheticals. I think it might have had to do more with the trauma. My vision would go white and I’d have vague flashes of what happened. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t hold on to the memories—not that I wanted to anyway. After a few months the headaches started to subside, and I could remember most of what happened.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Sorry, that’s not what you asked about. Now it’s just my hip that causes problems.”

“It’s cool. These are all things I want to know, if you want to tell me.” I kissed her temple.

“It’s easier to talk about than it used to be,” she said softly. “You mean since you came back from Arden Hills?” A few seconds passed before she replied, and I worried that I’d pushed too much.

“Before I left, I was trying so hard to keep my life here separate from what had happened. It’s not like that anymore.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” She was quiet for a minute. “Anyway, you were asking about my hip.”

“So it’s better now than it was?”

“Most days. The cold seems to be a problem, but fortunately I don’t have to take anything too strong anymore.” She took a deep breath before she continued. “The doctors had me on a morphine drip in the beginning. I was in such a haze, I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t for the longest time. I couldn’t figure out why Trey was the only person I saw. I’m sure it was better that way.”

I put the tattoo machine down. “You mean you didn’t know everyone was gone?”

She shifted to look at me, her eyes ancient. “Not at first.”

“How long was it before you found out?”

“A week—maybe two at the most? My memories of that time aren’t very clear. I was in and out of consciousness, so I can’t be sure. Trey was the one who told me, obviously. I had a complete breakdown. It was . . . awful. Deep down, I knew the nightmares I was having weren’t just dreams, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

I couldn’t fathom waking up in traction, with broken bones and third-degree burns, only to find out everyone I cared about was dead. Just thinking about it gave me the chills.

“Anyway”—Tenley cleared her throat—“I don’t know if this is the best my hip is going to get or not, but it’s much better than it was.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“As far as they’re concerned, the surgery was a success. I was in bed for weeks before I was allowed to start walking. But I can walk fine most of the time and I have full range of motion, at least for now. There was a lot of damage; the doctors say I’ll need a hip replacement eventually.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” I didn’t like the prospect of her having to endure something like that again.

“It won’t be for a long time, though.”

I wondered if we would still be together by then. I couldn’t imagine my world without her, but I hadn’t anticipated losing my parents the way I did, either. Heart attacks I understood; car accidents; even freak plane crashes. But murder . . .

That was the fear that had petrified me into distancing myself from even the most important people in my life. It was why I hadn’t pursued Tenley initially. I’d had a feeling that getting close to her wouldn’t stop at sex, and I’d been right. She’d found a way between the cracks in my armor and blew it apart. I wanted to have the same effect on her.

As unconventional as it was to spend Christmas Day in Inked Armor, the tattoo session was what I needed. The soothing buzz of the machine and the sting of the needle distracted me from the pain of the memories I shared with Hayden.

“Do you think we could go to the storage unit tomorrow?” he asked as he made another pass with a damp cloth.

“Of course.” I hadn’t expected he would want to go so soon.

“I haven’t been there since I first moved into my condo. I was going to take some of my parent’s furniture, but I couldn’t do it. It all reminded me of what I’d lost.”

“Did you go alone?”

“Yeah. But you’ll be with me this time, so maybe it won’t be so hard.”

I hoped that would be true.

Eventually we found our way back to the topic of last night, and Hayden tentatively raised the subject of New Year’s. Lisa had called him several times today. The first time, she mentioned Times Square. The second call was about keeping it local. Hayden said they could talk about it tomorrow. My vote was for local, but I could handle a road trip if everyone was driving.