Page 70 of Under the Ink

Once she was safely around the corner, she thought to herself that she was going to need to figure out an explanation for what he’d felt…a lie that would sound like the truth.

Why was her heart beating so hard?

When she entered the elevator, she counted the seconds, waiting for the doors to close. Once they began sliding, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

Finally, it started going up.

Although her heart was thumping in her chest, her breathing was starting to slow back to normal—and, aside from feeling freaked out when she got off the elevator, she was no worse for the wear.

Looking down the hallway, she tried to remember her room number. As she started walking, she looked at the numbers and none seemed familiar. When she stopped in front of a door shethoughtmight be hers, she pulled out her phone where both her card—and the number—rested inside the case.

After pulling out the card and looking at the number, she was irritated because her room was at the other end of the hallway—but at least she was on the correct floor. Once she got past the elevator, its doors made that familiar dinging sound.

No.

Knowing it could be Sage, she picked up her pace, and by the time she heard the doors slide open, she’d reached her door. When she unlocked it, she heard his voice calling her name.

Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

Pretending she hadn’t heard him, she opened her door—but as she closed it, Sage stuck his arm inside, sending a jolt of fear throughout her body.

“Just give me one second, Naomi, okay? I promise. Just one second.”

Allowing him to push the door open, she stood back. After all that tough talk and promises to Ginny, she hadn’t been carrying her pepper spray.

Damn it. She’d let her guard down. So stupid.

But she could trust Sage—couldn’t she?

Forcing herself to look at him, she hugged herself, each arm wrapped over her chest, her hands gripping her arms as if that stance would protect her.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But…” Sage got closer, letting the door to her room close behind him. Had some lights not already been on in there, it would have grown dark, so Naomi was grateful for that much. “What happened to you? Did somebody do that to you—or did you do that to yourself?”

Naomi couldn’t—wouldn’t—say a word. He was too close to the truth for comfort.

Holding her arm, he began looking at the individual tattoos, ones that he hadn’t realized told a story.

But now he was starting to see it.

Her left arm was the destruction of flowers—being pulled, ripped, sliced from their roots from the top of her shoulder all the way to her wrist with ivy intertwined throughout. On her right was more of a storyboard—without telling the real autobiography—of an innocent young woman being killed and coming back to life, interwoven by a thick black vine.

“What happened to you, Naomi?”

Shaking her head, she managed to keep looking at him, but her eyes filled with tears. Sage touched her cheek as one dropped and he kissed her where the tear had slid down. Then he moved his face to her arm where he’d found the scars earlier. Those particular ones were stripes in the girl’s shirt, but now in the light of the room, he could see them for what they were.

He kissed them, too.

But he ran his finger up her arm, feeling for the scars he’d figured out were hidden underneath the artwork.

It made her feel naked.

She pulled her arm away from him and tried to cover her arm with a hand.

When he looked her in the eyes, he spoke—but even though her ears could barely hear him, her heart knew what he was saying. “I can see all your beauty, Naomi. You don’t have to hide from me.”

And she believed him.

In that moment, she trusted him completely.

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