Inked in the Steel City Series(76)

“Abby’s closing up the shop tonight. I don’t have anywhere else I need to be.” He never did. Hot Ink was his life. Often, when he was away from the studio, he felt a little like a fish out of water. In Karen’s presence, he felt like a fish caught in a riptide, swimming against a current that threatened to pull him into waters he knew he should avoid.

“Will you stay, Jed – for the night? If you want to, I mean.”

Hell yes, he wanted to. A very selfish, very powerful part of him wanted to. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” When she recoiled, it hurt physically to watch. “Not because I don’t want to,” he said, “because I do want to.”

She looked at him like she didn’t understand, and he couldn’t blame her. “When you spent the other night at my place, it was amazing,” he clarified. “So amazing I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t spend the night with you without thinking of what happened then, and that doesn’t seem right. I want to be here for you, but I don’t want to give my own selfish desires a chance to fuck everything up.”

To his surprise, one corner of her mouth twitched in a quick half-smile. “I don’t expect you to stop thinking of the other night. I haven’t stopped. When I said I wanted you to spend the night, I meant with me – in my bed.”

His chest suddenly felt too tight for his speeding heart. Jesus. “I can’t do that, Karen. You can’t— I mean, after last time…”

He summoned all of his willpower and forced out the truth. “The next morning, I realized how selfish I’d been, bringing you back to my place. After I told you about Alice and saw the way you held back around me – the way you were worried about hurting my feelings – I knew what I’d done was wrong. You deserve to be with someone that’s not like me. Someone you don’t feel the need to tone down your happiness around.”

There, it was all out – having said the words left him feeling as if a crushing weight had been lifted off his chest, leaving a flattened, hollow space in its wake. It was a strange sort of relief, but a relief none the less.

“You’re trying not to hurt my feelings right now.” She shot him a level look across the table.

What was he supposed to say to that?

“I am,” he replied eventually, having decided on undiluted honesty, “but that’s because you’ve just lost someone you loved. The pain is fresh, and I know what it feels like – I don’t want to make it any worse for you. But it’s been five years since I lost Alice. I’ve had time to heal as much as I can, and I am what I am. And you think I’m sad.”

She frowned and stood suddenly, pushing back her chair. “I don’t think you’re sad. I think what happened to you is sad – there’s a difference. I’m sorry if I offended you by trying to be sensitive, but I didn’t know how to act. I can only imagine what it’s like to lose a spouse, Jed. I was just trying to put myself in your shoes. I guess I did a crappy job, but are you really so upset with me that you don’t want to do this anymore?” She waved a hand between them.

“I just think you deserve someone different. You’re only twenty-five, and you’re so full of life. Hell, that’s the first thing people notice about you – how alive you are, how much of yourself you put into everything you do. I just don’t like the idea of being this person that burdens you with my sad history and makes you second-guess yourself.”

“Then we have something in common,” she said in an uncharacteristically even tone.

His heart sank even though he knew he should be glad he’d finally gotten her to see things his way.

“I mean about me putting so much of myself into everything I do,” she continued. “You’re the same way.” She motioned toward the nearest wall. “You’re passionate, Jed. You couldn’t create art like this if you weren’t. I don’t see you as some walking embodiment of tragedy. I see you as you are – as someone with a lot left to give. I want to be the person who…”

She paused and took a deep breath. “I want to be with you, Jed. I wanted you for months before I knew you were a widower, and I still want you just as much as I did then.” She took a step toward him. “More, even, after what happened the other night.”

He remained in his chair, the top of it digging into his vertebrae as he sat, struck dumb. It was hard to think past the whirling storm her words had turned his thoughts into. He struggled for a response, but nothing came to mind. And then she obliterated his concentration when she leaned down, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.