"Let's get out of here for a while," Zane suggested, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Get some air."
I nodded, still not completely trusting my hands, or the voices.
CHAPTER 10
ZANE
I GOT MIA OUT OF THERE AS FAST ASI could and threw the rest on Carter. He didn’t even flinch—just flashed that easy grin of his and slid right into the conversation like nothing had happened.
He’s always been good at that. People like him. He knows exactly what to say to keep things smooth.
These workshops I run in L.A.—they’re small, mostly hands-on stuff. I use them to train new artists, give them a space to grow under the brand. It’s low pressure, just art and skin and silence, which is what I like. Most of them show up for the exposure, and I don’t blame them. It’s a tough industry to break into.
But yesterday?
Yesterday was a mess.
I’m fucked. I really thought Mia was doing better after the diner incident, where she was convinced there was a dead body to hide, but no one was there.
I had been following Charlie’s advice, giving her space, letting her figure things out on her own, hoping that it would help her avoid more trouble.
I’d seen how she got all tangled up in her thoughts sometimes, lost in a world I couldn’t quite see.
It was like she was somewhere else, in a place only she could understand, and I... I wasn’t sure if I should try to pull her out or just let her stay there, even if it scared me.
I kept my distance, giving her room to breathe. She needed it, I thought.
I didn’twant to crowd her, didn’t want to make things worse.She’d been handling crowded spaces well enough, so I figured she’d adjust soon. Turns out, the crowd itself isn’t the problem—it’s people touching me.
And that’s fucked up.
I mean, I’m a fucking tattoo artist. Touching people is quite literally how I make a living. But Mia? She’s not a fan of that. At all.
Still, I can do damage control.
I told her she could come with me to the studio, under one condition—she doesn’t try to kill anyone. I really hope that works out.
“What’s this for?” Mia asks, pointing at my folder like it personally offended her.
“For clients to look through tattoo designs.”
She nods like she’s taking mental notes, then immediately moves on, pointing at the small jar of numbing cream on my workstation. Before I can even breathe to explain—
She dips her goddamn finger into it and shoves it in her mouth.
“Mia—fuck!” I snatch the jar from her hand, but the damage is already done. She freezes, eyes going wide in absolute horror, her tongue hanging out as if she just licked a live wire.
“I—I can’t feel my tongue.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing, but a snort escapes anyway. “Yeah, Mia. That’s literally what it’s for.”
She makes a strangled sound—somewhere between a groan and a dramatic gasp—then glares at me like I’m the asshole in this situation.
“You should’ve warned me!” she accuses, her words coming out all muffled.
“I was about to, but you move like a rabid raccoon—”
“Who just leaves numbing poison lying around?”