Page 51 of Love Finds Home

I chuckle into the phone.

“There you go. Do you have coffee?”

“Yes, I have coffee.”

“Do you have alcohol?”

“There may be a bottle in the cabinet,” I admit.

“That’s all you need then. Go to work.”

We say our goodbyes and I do exactly what he told me to do. I pull out a fresh canvas and set it on the easel. I get my paints ready and put on my comfiest pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Both are covered in old paint stains. I throw my hair up into a messy bun and go to work while the coffee is brewing. I prime the canvas, and by the time the first cup hits, I’ve made my initial strokes. By the fifth cup, I have the makings of a real piece of art. On the canvas, with wide swathes of red and purples, is a dark figure in the background, hidden from full view. In the forefront is a woman’s silhouette. She’s holding herself in a way that could convey fear or anxiety. Is the man friend or foe? What could she be afraid of?

The sun has already started shining through the windows when I put down my paintbrush and step back to look at thepainting. I snap a picture and send it to Jorge. He won’t respond. He’s sleeping. I lower the lights and crawl onto the futon. Finally, the mental and physical exhaustion hit. I’ve been up twenty-four hours at this point—not for the first time, or the last. And when I close my eyes, I’m still haunted by a pair of brown eyes yearning for something that he can’t find.

Chapter 19

Ranger

I went back toElle’s place after she walked to the shop and looked at her porch. It was covered with petals and a box. The box worried me until I saw who it was from. I figure a package from Jorge is pretty safe and I don’t need to open it or destroy it, but why did she leave it? Why hasn’t she been home? What the fuck do the petals mean? She’s stayed mostly hidden in her studio all day and night, rarely stepping out. I’ve seen a few food deliveries, but that’s it. No visitors, no leaving. Except when she slinks out at night, runs home, changes the lights that are on inside, and runs back. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t be close to her. Touch her. Make sure she’s okay.

I’ve stayed close, subsisting on coffee and the occasional cigarette when I’m desperate. I’ve been seeing clients during the day and splitting my nights between the asshole and Elle. We all leave next week for the Cove, and I’m so ready to be out of this town for a weekend, but at what cost? I’ll be in direct closenesswith Elle while all her brothers watch over her. I heard Keith is also planning on joining us. Woo. My enthusiasm knows no bounds at that, which makes my instructions for the wedding almost comical. They are to show up and not be a grumpy asshole. I promised Tiny to give it my best try. He told me to fuck off, and we laughed. I’ve also been recruited to be the muscle for the moms. It seems that while Tiny and Davis might be great friends, their mothers are like two peas in a pod.

Elle is leaving earlier than everyone else because she’s got a thing at her art gallery. We’re all invited Friday night where I’ve been promised cheap appetizers and beer. Better than the cheap wine people usually drink at these things. If that means I have to put on a monkey suit for a few hours and act human while looking at art I don’t understand, I guess I’ll survive.

Barbie cleared my schedule for the long weekend but is keeping the shop open. She’s bringing in some guys from Baltimore we served with who opened their own shop to assist. You wouldn’t think a small tattoo shop in the middle of nowhere on a mountain range would be busy, but our talent and name precede us. The guys coming in have already filled up hours of their time with clients who live closer to Boulder Canyon than Baltimore. It’ll be exposure for us, and hopefully some new clientele as well.

Tonight Tiny and Joker are both at the shop with me. Music is filtering down from upstairs, but that’s the only sign that Elle is in residence. Tiny looks lost since Lottie is working an overnight shift at the vet clinic and Nat deserted him to stay with Trish and Harper.

“Elle know you’re here?” I ask Tiny when they get settled. Joker is here for some fresh ink.

“Nah. I tried to call her earlier, but she didn’t answer. She gets like this before an opening.”

“Like what?”

“Like nothing outside of her studio walls exists. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, and freaks out until the night of.”

“Should you go check on her?”

“Why? She’ll just yell at me to go away and slam the door in my face.” He shrugs.

“And when was the last time she did that to you?”

He thinks about it before answering. “Probably ten years? I think I was home on leave once when she had an opening.”

“So ten years ago she was freaking out about a new opening when she had probably just opened her gallery and you think that’s just how she is?” I ask him, getting mad at him on Elle’s behalf.

“Well, I mean, when you say it like that it makes me look like an asshole,” he defends. “I’m not an asshole, and you know it. You’re the asshole. But if she needs something, all she has to do is ask, and she’s never asked.”

“Have you ever asked her?”

He opens his mouth to reply and snaps it closed, looking down. He shakes his head. “I am an asshole, aren’t I?”

“No, you idiot, you aren’t. You’re a brother.”

“What’s that mean?” he asks.

“It means she's not the sole focus of your life. If Lottie were stressing out or freaking out, you’d be there for her, right?”

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