Page 128 of Almost Love

He sighed. “And I lost her.”

“The Oakley I know won’t stop fighting for what he wants.”

The first few times in rehab, he didn’t try very hard. Being numb was better than anything else in the world. Once he got a grip on himself, he worked his ass off to kick the addictions and make something of himself. He didn’t always do or say the right thing, but Oakleywasdetermined. The way he loved Clementine wasn’t some passing fancy. He was madly, deeply, obsessively in love with her. That meant he would definitely do everything he could to get her back.

“This is different, Kris. You should have seen her face,” he choked out. The tears, the downward curve of her mouth, the lines between her eyebrows, the sadness in her eyes—all of it would haunt him for the rest of his life

“Come on, kid. Remember all the good expressions instead. You love her, you want to be with her…respect that. Respect her. Even if she doesn’t take you back, you owe her a conversation.”

Sighing heavily, he mumbled in agreement and promised to call early next week, then hung up. Gracie stared at him, head tilted slightly, like she was trying to figure out if he was okay or not.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Gracie yipped and he kissed the top of her head. “Me too, girl. Me fucking too.”

After a shower and a change of clothes, he decided to swing by the bakery and see her. Even though Kristof had suggested taking time, he knew that if he put it off too long, he’d lose his chance. He asked Deana if she could take Gracie and headed out. Except, she wasn’t at work and nobody knew when she’d be back. Luna did offer him a box of donuts, which he took with himto the tattoo shop. Auburn was on her feet the minute he walked in and Oakley sighed.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be fine.” Auburn gave him an awkward side hug and he forced a smile as he patted her arm.

At his workstation, he flipped through his notebook until he found the sketches he’d done for his new tattoos. It had been years since he’d been inked and not for lack of money or people to do it, but because every tattoo had to mean something. He had the perfect design, he just needed to convince someone to do it for him.

“What’s the plan?” Carin asked as they stormed in and at his confused frown, added, “To get your girl back. What is the plan?”

Releasing a slow breath, he held the book out to her. “It’s time.”

“That’s not a plan, Oak.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

They looked over the sketches. “They say that getting shitfaced is better for heartbreak than tattoos.”

“Don’t drink.”

“That’s a shame. Still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“You better, but you’re not in the right frame of mind.”

“I need to feel something.”

“They make drugs for that.”

“I…no.”

“I have a guy who can ge—”

Oakley slammed his hand on the table. “I’m a recovering addict. And I’m numb enough already. Please, just do this for me.”

“Fuck, man, why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged and tapped the sketches. The ink on his right arm was black and line drawings, but this set would have everyfucking color Carin could think of. That was what Clementine brought into his life—bright bursts of color every single day.

“Okay.” Carin sighed heavily. “Where do you want it?”

He stretched out his left arm and turned it over to show them the inside of his forearm. He looked up and found Carin watching him curiously. “She’s it. She gets an entire fucking arm, if I have anything to say about it.”

With a quick nod, they retrieved their tools and ink while Oakley stared at the sketch. It might seem impulsive, but he already planned to get this one done. It was just happening under different circumstances and earlier than intended. When Carin came back, he reminded himself to call Mia after everything was done. To assure his sponsor that he was fine and not thinking about drinking. Because that wouldn’t make him feel better.

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