Page 124 of Under the Ink

So, if nothing else, he could be grateful for what she’d done for him. What she’d shown him. Even if he felt empty now that she was gone.

He would survive. Naomi had taught him that, too.

But maybe they just weren’t meant to be—and that was okay. He just hoped she was doing all right.

Tilting the cup to drink the last drop, Sage stood, appreciating how the sun dappled in the yard through the branches dancing with yellow and red leaves onto the lawn that was beginning to fade in color.

Bet that golf course didn’t look like that.

Another cup of coffee or back to bed? Sage headed toward the kitchen, hoping he’d decide for sure when he got there. He’d either pour another cup or turn the pot off. But, as he set his cup on the counter, the doorbell rang.

Was that a delivery guy? Maybe a neighbor? One of his parents’ friends? It didn’t matter who it was—he’d shoo them away quickly so he could make up his damn mind.

Walking across the hardwood floor, he realized he wouldn’t enjoy being barefoot much longer till spring. His toes felt a little cooler than he would have liked—but he’d long ago decided when he finally bought his own place, he’d have temperature-controlled floors.

He was in no hurry to get his own home, though. What was the point when his parents had no issues with him crashing at their place whenever he wasn’t off doing something else? He’d rented an apartment when he’d first moved out—and all through their first tour. But it had turned out to be nothing more than an expensive storage unit.

A home was for the heart. And he’d been missing that organ for a long time. Naomi had helped him find it, but now that she was gone, he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

All these thoughts continued rolling through his head as he reached the front door and turned the knob. When he pulled it open, he questioned if he was really seeing what he thought he saw.

Could it be?

“Naomi? What are you doing here?”

But something about her was different. Somehow she looked lighter.

Freer.

And what the fuck? She was wearing a tank top, actually showing off her tattoos.

In a Shock Treatment shirt.

“Fuck. Sorry. I’m an asshole. You’re shivering. Come on in,” he said, holding the door open.

“Thanks.” As she stepped inside, she said, “To answer your question, I’m here because I owe you a huge apology.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Jesus H. She was fucking adorable. And her green eyes—he felt like he was really seeing them for the first time. “Want some coffee?”

“Actually, yeah. I’d love some.”

“Come with me.” As he led her toward the kitchen, he asked, “Wait. How the fuck did you get here?”

Turning, he looked at her while he approached the cabinet to pull out another coffee mug. And she couldn’t hide the small smile that appeared on her face. “I, uh…I drove here.”

“Youdrovehere? I thought you said you didn’t have a driver’s license.”

She gave him a tiny shrug. Fucking adorable.

“So you know how to drive.”

“Yeah, but I never felt confident doing it. I was always afraid I was gonna crash or something…which is why I never bothered getting my license.”

“Did you crash or anything coming here?”

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