Hemi’s eyes search mine. In them, I usually see either heat or a teasing light, but right now neither is the case. They seem…troubled. Like he’s conflicted about something. I wonder if he doesn’t want to have so much in common with someone else. I wonder if he doesn’t want to let someone in, let someone get close.

Without another word, Hemi moves away from me and slides off the bed to saunter into the bathroom. With the door open, I can see him examining my work in the mirror. He runs his fingers over some of the details, but says nothing. And his eyes, his eyes are still guarded. I get more anxious by the second.

Finally he returns to the main room. “This is good, Sloane. Really good.”

I exhale and give him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble learning to tattoo.”

“Really?”

“No trouble at all.”

I sit up in bed, gathering courage for what I’m about to ask. It will require more of a commitment from Hemi and I’m not sure he’ll agree to it. Saying he’ll teach me to tattoo is different than being, like, a preceptor.

“Here’s the thing. I’m in my senior year at UGA and not only do I have Advanced Figure Drawing and Anatomy this semester, but I also have a drawing elective that can contain a practical aspect if I get it cleared through my professor. Would you, um, would you be willing to be my preceptor? I could use my experiences with you as drawing and anatomy in a practical sense. From what some of the others in my classes are doing, I think this would be acceptable, and it would kill two birds with one stone.”

Hemi watches me closely. I can see that his mind is whirling behind his eyes and it makes me tense as I wait.

“I think I could do that. We could start you out doing some original sketches then work you up to doing stencils. Then, eventually, to using the gun on skin.”

I’m thrilled for several reasons, not the least of which is the amount of time this means I’ll get to spend with Hemi.

“That would be fantastic! And I really appreciate it.”

He gives me a tight smile as he absently runs his fingers over the words that I drew on his side. “My pleasure.” He holds my gaze for a few more seconds before he looks away, almost uncomfortably. “I’m gonna run out and get us some supplies. Toothbrush, toothpaste, things like that. Do you need anything?”

I don’t know why, but I get the feeling he’s anxious to get away from me.

“No, I’ll be fine until we get home tomorrow. Toothbrush and toothpaste is plenty.”

Hemi nods. “I’m gonna put my clothes back on and then I’ll hit the road.”

I nod as well and he disappears back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When he reemerges, he holds up his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll text you from my phone so you can call if you need anything?”

I think it’s an odd request since he’s only going out for a couple of things. How long does he plan to be gone?

I keep my thoughts to myself, however, and I’m as casual as I can be when I give him my number. He taps it into his phone and a few seconds later, mine chirps with an incoming text. It says simply, “Hemi.”

Then, with a rushed Be right back, he’s gone. I wait for about half an hour, wide awake, before I scoot down in the bed to get more comfortable. It’s then that the events of the day catch up to me and my eyes get heavy.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I wake, all the lights are off in the room but for the lamp on the desk. I see Hemi sitting there, sketching something onto the complementary notepad. His head is bent and his face is intense in the soft, direct light. I roll over to look at the clock. It’s twenty minutes after two. When I glance back to Hemi, his head is up and his eyes are on me. He says nothing and neither do I. I just lie back down, closing my eyes and trying to push thoughts of him out of my head so I can go back to sleep.

And, sometime later, I do.

Finally.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Hemi

Sloane has been quiet all morning. I’m sure she’s responding to me disappearing for a while last night. I needed to go get my head together, think things through. Seeing those letters on my side reminded me of my goal, my mission. And, even though I like Sloane and I feel guilty for what I’m doing to her, it’s what I have to do. Period. If I told her, she might even understand it. Then again, she might not. But I’ll never know because I can’t tell her. I can’t trust her with it. She could ruin everything and that’s a risk I just can’t take.

As soon as she woke up and said her leg was feeling much better, I suggested we get on the road. It’s Saturday, so she might not have plans, but I do. I need to get back to work. And now I need sleep, since I got none last night.

When we are about an hour outside Savannah, it starts to sprinkle rain, so I turn down the music and pull off onto the shoulder to put up the top. It’s as I’m easing back onto the highway that I hear a grumbling sound.

“Shit, damn, piss! I’m such an asshole!” I say aloud as I start surveying signs we pass along the interstate.

“What?” Sloane asks me, her expression puzzled. “Why are you an asshole?”

“You haven’t even had breakfast. And I’m sure you’re hungry.”

She shrugs. “I’m fine. I’ll live.”

“Stop being so agreeable. You need to speak up, tell me what you want.”

“Seriously, I’m fine. It’s not a—”

She’s so sweet and understanding and it only makes me feel worse about what I did. What I’m doing. “Look, I feel like shit and you’re just making it worse. Call me a selfish bastard. Tell me to stop the car and get some food in your damn stomach. Punch me in the leg. Do something!” My rant comes out angrier than I intended. I can tell that by the stung expression that now clouds Sloane’s features.

“Fine,” she says. She pauses for a second before she reaches across the seat and punches me in the leg. And it’s no light little girl punch either. This is a punch she probably gives that Sasquatch brother of hers. “Stop at the next restaurant and get me some breakfast, you selfish bastard.”

There’s sincerity in her voice, so much so that it leads me to believe she has some aggression of her own to get out, no doubt a product of last night.

“I didn’t say you had to do it all,” I mutter, teasing her. “Damn.”

She glares at me for a few seconds. I stare back, wearing my most wounded expression. Finally, she relents and smiles.

“Sorry. I get grouchy when I’m hungry.”

“Grouchy? The hell you say! You’re mean as a snake!”

She laughs and slaps my arm playfully. “I am not.”

“Now I’m gonna have to explain why I have a limp.”

She rolls her eyes, but her face looks more relaxed, which was my goal. It won’t do me a bit of good to alienate her at this point. I need her. And I need her to be able to talk to me.

I see a sign for an IHOP, so I take that exit. Within a few minutes, we are seated in a booth with menus in our hands.

After we order and the waitress brings us coffee, Sloane says conversationally, “I don’t blame you for forgetting breakfast.”

“And why is that?”

“You said you’re not the breakfast kind of guy.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m flattered that you’d make an exception for me.”

“We didn’t sleep together, so this doesn’t count.”

“So you don’t take the girls you have sex with out for breakfast?”

“Nope.”

“And why is that?”

I shrug. “I just don’t have the time or the inclination to get that…involved with anybody.” Sloane doesn’t meet my eyes. She blows carefully into her mug to cool her coffee before she takes a sip. I take the opportunity to change the subject. “So, tell me about this family of yours.”

She sighs. “Well, I have three brothers. They’re all cops. My father is, too. To say they’re overprotective would be like calling the Gulf of Mexico a puddle of rain.”

I try not to seem too interested, even though I am. “Three brothers? All cops? Wow! I bet that is rough. Tell me about them.”

“Sig is the youngest. He’s not as rigid as the other two. We’ve always been close and he’s not as hard on me as the others are. He’s only been out of police academy for about a year. Next is Scout. He’s kind of a split between both my parents, temperament-wise. He can be more understanding at times, but he isn’t always that way. And then there’s Steven. He’s the one you met the other night at Cuff’s. He’s a bear. Just like Dad. Those two would never let me out of the house if they had their way.”

“Is that why he was acting like such a prick? He didn’t like that you were there?”

“Yeah, I showed up without giving them any kind of warning. I wanted to make a point. And I did. Oh, boy, did I ever!”

“Seems like he didn’t take it very well.”

“Well, by the time I actually saw Steven, I’d had quite a bit to drink. It probably wasn’t the best timing.”

“Did you know he’d be there?”

“Yeah, my family frequents Cuff’s quite a bit.” She takes another sip of coffee and then frowns. “Speaking of Cuff’s, what were you doing there? That’s a cop bar, I thought.”

I school my features. “Do you realize the population of cops that have tattoos? They’re almost as bad as people in the military.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

I take a drink of my coffee, too. “So, what does your mother say about all the overprotective men?”

Sloane’s smile is sad and I immediately feel like I’ve stepped in a painful pile of shit. “She’d probably just roll her eyes if she knew. She died when I was seven years old.”

“God, Sloane, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She lived a good life while she could. She had acute lymphoblastic leukemia. She had it first when she was just a little girl. She did great for a lot of years. Unfortunately, she had a relapse. And when it recurs in adulthood, the prognosis is usually bad. She relapsed when she was twenty-eight and died when she was thirty.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry I brought it up.”

“Don’t be. Really. She was a wonderful mother. She never let it keep her from really living. She was determined to squeeze as much happiness out of life as she could. And she did.”

Ain’t that a kick to the nads?

I feel like such an ass for bringing it up. “I’m glad she did. Life is short. It’s up to us to make the most of it.”

“Exactly!” Sloane says emphatically. “That’s why I want to start living now. My dad and my brothers might not like it, but I’m an adult and they can’t keep me locked away in a pain-proof, mistake-proof, life-proof tower forever. They have to learn to let me go.”

Her words…oh God, her words!

“Sometimes it’s harder to let go than what you might think.”

Sloane looks at me over her coffee cup, her expression…odd. “I don’t doubt that it is, but it’s necessary. We have to move on. We have to live life. Just like those words on your side—‘Live, no regrets’.”

I nod, staring into the black liquid in my mug. Before either of us has to say anything else, the waitress comes with our food. I’ll ask her more about her family later. But right now, I think we both need a break.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Sloane

“Are you kidding me? That’s it? That’s all that happened?” Sarah asks me from the passenger seat. It’s my turn to drive to school this week and she’s starting Monday off with an inquisition that the KGB would be proud of.

“Yep.”

“Girl, we need to watch some porn. You need help. A lot of help.”

“I don’t need to watch porn, Sarah. And I don’t need help. He came right out and told me that he doesn’t usually like ‘innocent’ girls. He acts like he’s gonna ruin my life if he gets involved with me.”

“Then you need to convince him otherwise. With your shirt off. That always helps change a man’s mind.”

“Oh God, Sarah! You’re the one that needs help.”

“No, you need help. I told you that. I’m telling you, Sloane, you need for this guy to help you spread your…wings.” Her pause is intentional and when I look over at her, she’s grinning devilishly.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“You wouldn’t think so if you’d go ahead and ditch that pesky virginity.”

“I’m trying! It’s not as easy as I thought it’d be.”

“It’s exactly as easy as you thought it’d be. You’re just losing your nerve.”

“But I’m not! Not at all. I want him. Really bad. But for some reason he’s determined not to give in to it. I don’t know what it is. It’s more than just my…inexperience. It’s like he wants to leave me alone, but can’t. And he resents it.” I think about my own words. “Well, maybe ‘resents’ isn’t the right word. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like he wants to be with me, but then he doesn’t. Like he feels like he should stay away from me, but then he doesn’t. It’s freaky.”

“And hot!” Sarah adds.