Page 57 of Ink & Stardust

“That seems pretty harmless.”

“Then she left it tied to a fence outside of an abandoned warehouse over five miles away.”

“Oh.”

“Safe to say the neighbors were not happy.”

“But they got their dog back?”

“They did. But it never should have happened in the first place.”

“So what did you do?”

“I fired them and hired another service.”

“You must really love her to take care of her that way.”

“I’m all she’s got. She’s all I’ve got.”

“What about your parents?” The question slips out before I can take it back, and I brace for the inevitable shutdown I know is coming.

“I never met my dad.” He surprises me by saying. “And my mom... She died when I was young.”

“I’m...” There are no words. I mean, I already knew this, of course, I just didn’t expect him to tell me. Maisie said he never talks about it.

“It was a long time ago.” He cuts me off before I can finish my sentence. “I barely remember her.”

“Still. I’m sorry that happened to you. It couldn’t have been easy growing up without either of your parents.”

“I managed.” He shifts, rolling onto his side so that we’re facing each other. I slide my hand across his side, the burn scars more evident on this particular patch of skin. “You can ask,” he tells me, seeming to read the direction of my thoughts.

“What happened?”

“When I was young, I got pretty badly burned in a fire.”

My eyes widen and not because I’m surprised by what he’s saying, but that he’s saying it.

“Is that how...”

“My mom died.” He nods, and again I’m taken with how open he’s being. I get the feeling very few people see this side of Kai Elliot, and I can’t deny the funny way my heart stutters in my chest at this knowledge.

“The tattoos...” I don’t have to say more. He understands where I’m going.

“I got sick of people staring. Of my scars being the first thing people noticed about me. The first thing they asked. So I covered them up.”

“Do they have meaning?”

“Every single one of them.” His arm wraps around my back, pulling me closer, so close that our noses nearly touch.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” I snuggle closer, sliding my hand up over his arm to the side of his face.

“What scars are you hiding beneath nonexistent ink?”

“I’m not... I mean, I don’t...” I stop myself from speaking the lie so close to the tip of my tongue it nearly slides off anyway. “It’s nothing compared to yours,” I say instead.

“It’s not a competition. Pain is pain, no matter what causes it.”

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