Page 145 of Splintered Hearts

“I don’t know what made you come down now and I don’t care. I understand you went through hell, but I wish you hadn’t shut me out. We both lost too much as it is.”

Words are lost to me. My gaze drifts over the shop. It looks almost the same even though it’s been five years. My throat tightens seeing the empty space where Maddox’s station used tobe. He barely even got to use it.

There are four along the walls and Maddox chose the farthest. “No one sits there. It’s his. It will always be his spot,” Ian says. My throat tightens and it’s all I can do to get my shit together. Seeing Ian has hit me worse than I thought it would.

All these memories just kept rushing toward me. “How many artists work here?”

“I have one permanent one. The other chair I leave open for apprentices or artists who maybe don’t have a permanent spot yet. It’s nice. Anna’s great. She keeps my shit together, since he’s not here to do it.” He smiles sadly.

“It’s doing good then?”

“It’s great. I think he’d be proud.”

I look up, expecting to see Maddox’s painting. “Where’s the vampire mistress?”

“I took that shit down.” He laughs. “That thing was hideous and we both know it.” I laugh harder. Maddox loved weird fucking art and often went around to yard sales to find the weirdest fucking pieces. One vampire-woman painting he had bought looked as if the artist was maybe five years old and was given oil paints without any idea how to use them. “I loved him but he did not have taste.”

“Art is subjective.”

“Yeah, well, his subjective ass loved hideous fucking art.” Ian shakes his head. “I took it down the week after the funeral. I was so fucking mad at him. I was in the anger stage. I’d always hated it, but you know him. Could talk his fucking way out of or into any situation. Especially when it came to me.” It’s nice to talk about this. No one else around me knew Maddox this way. “So, how much ink you got now?”

That abrupt change snaps my attention. Noticing the sheen in Ian’s eyes I take the topic change for what it is, letting it go and reminding myself why I’m here. “None. That dragon was mylast.”

“Oh shit, really? Ink-addict Jamie.” He laughs. At one point I’d wanted tattoos all over my body—until life hit me. Almost dying was in fact not cheap, and any money I got went on hospital bills and the house. Not that I even had a desire to get any more.

Until now.

“I want to know if you can tattoo something small. I don’t want you to miss an appointment, though.”

“What is it?”

I can do this. I stand up out of the chair and scroll through my phone, finding the picture. “I want you to tattoo this, exactly how it is, color and everything, about three inches tall.” Ian frowns as he grabs my phone. “I want it here.” I take off my shirt, and Ian’s eyes roam over my skin taking in my scars. It’s probably the first time he’s actually seen evidence of the worst night of our lives. Then his eyes drag up, and I brace myself.

Looking back down at the phone, he shakes his head. “Is that... a penis?”

“Yes.”

“Why . . . why is it smiling?”

I try so hard to not laugh. “Because my boyfriend is a maniac and I love him more than anything.”

“Boyfriend?” My sexuality was never a secret, but still Ian looks surprised. “Wow.” He shakes his head, standing to look at it. “That thing looks ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“You come to me for the first time in years so I can tattoo a fat cock on your chest?” I nod. Ian just shakes his head, waving me over to sign the consent forms. “Madd would be so fucking pissed if he knew you were doing this. He had a flow. A vision.”

“Says the random-ass tattoos on my arm.”

‘That was his practice skin.” He barks out a laugh. “You know he planned to give you a full sleeve eventually.” That had beenthe idea once upon a time. The random drawings were not bad but he had an idea to form one solid arm sleeve when he got better. Taking a picture with his tablet, Ian gets to work drawing over it then printing out a stencil. “You sure you want this in color?” I nod. “Black and gray was always your thing.”

“Except for the cherry blossoms.”

“That was for Luci. She thought you needed a little color in your life.” And she had been that color for years. Then she died, and I lived in a world devoid of anything. Then came Noah and he pulled that color back in by the scruff of it’s neck. “Maddox, I’m sorry your friend is insane. Please don’t be mad at me, baby.”

Swallowing, I don’t trust my voice before I try and say thank you.

“Of course, man. Anything.” Ian sets up his station while I sit with anticipation as he prints and places the stencil. The pain isn’t the worry, and thankfully there’s no scar on my left pec. Still, sitting in this chair after all this time is surreal. He cleans my skin and sets the stencil down, but I can see his eyes and can’t ignore the way they waver to the scars all over my chest. He lifts his soft blue eyes then looks back down. “Sorry.”

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