Page 52 of Take the Blame (Seaside Mergers #3)

Only, a minute later she huffed, picking up the eraser and scrubbing it across the page. Those eyes raised to me like I’d been the one to do something wrong. “Well, don’t be totally silent. Now I feel pressure.”

I snorted. “So you want me to leave you alone while making conversation with you?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t even bother to tell her it was rhetorical, just rolled my eyes as I sat back. “Alright. Why don’t you… tell me why you’re so against getting a tattoo.”

She wrinkled her nose as her hand moved across the paper in a long arch. “Am I against it?”

“Yes,” I snorted. “You physically recoil every time me or the guys bring it up. I know it’s not for everybody and some people will just never like them…but you don’t strike me as one of those people. So what’s up? What’s holding you back?”

She thought about it for a second. I could tell her thinking face was on because it was distinctly shaped like her pout. It always made me want to kiss her. “I don’t have anything against the ink, really. It’s the concept that scares me.”

“The concept?”

“Yeah. If I get something that’s going on my body forever, I would want it to represent me fully. And I’m not self-aware enough to choose something like that yet.”

I got it. Although, I wish she didn’t still feel this way. That she could see every incredible thing she was for herself. I could see her clearly enough. “That makes sense.”

She glanced up. “What about yours?”

After we’d shared sherbet on the couch the other day, she’d finally asked me to show her my tattoos.

Turns out she wanted to see every one of them.

Touch them. Kiss them. And the strength it took for me not to want to take her right there as she admired me so sweetly was Herculean.

So I knew she wasn’t asking what they were. Been there, done that.

“What do they mean to me?” I clarified.

“Mhmm,” she said. “Why do you get them?”

“Some of them are things that have meaning to me. A lot of them are art I admire. Some are memories I want to hold onto.” I said, not finding the question hard.

Her next question was much harder, in my opinion. “How did you get into it?”

I swallowed. “I went through a really tough time a while ago. Some things happened with my family. Hard things. And in the aftermath, I latched onto a part of me that was different from the things that reminded me of the pain. I latched onto the good.”

It was readying, the beat of silence that passed. I knew what would come next. “What happened?”

And even though I knew, it didn’t stop the pain that lanced through my chest when I thought about the answer.

It wasn’t a complicated one. There weren’t a lot of parts or even a lot to say.

It was simple and sometimes simplicity hurt.

It left behind unanswered questions and unshut doors in its wake.

But I didn’t want to hide things from her or hide from my past, either. It was hard, but it happened. It was painful enough facing the fact, running from it on top of everything would just be exhausting. “My sister left.”

If the silence before was readying, this one was deafening. I’m not even sure she was breathing over there. The whir of the heating system was the only sound in the shop.

“Left?” she asked softly.

“Yep,” I said. “There one minute, gone the next. Never to be seen or heard from again.”

“Harper, that’s?—”

“It’s not as horrible as you think. She was eighteen, and she took some money we had set aside for her.

She’s a smart girl and I know she wouldn’t do anything stupid with it.

Chances are she’s alright. She just…left is all.

She couldn’t take being a part of our family anymore and just decided she wasn’t going to. ”

“How long ago?”

“Ten years.”

“How long have you been an artist?”

“Ten years.” I smiled. “Though I haven’t been a good one that whole time.”

“Did she like art?” she asked. And for some reason the question brought a prickle to my eye.

So many people asked me about Mar when they found out my sister was gone.

They asked me if I thought she was alive, they asked what happened, they asked all these questions that I didn’t have or want the answer to.

But this girl, she asked questions that were actually about her.

Like she was trying to understand me through understanding her.

It was just like Alta to dig deeper and shoot straight for my core.

“Me and her always had similar interests. We worked in similar fields. But when it came to what we loved, we were very different,” I said.

“I’m the one who liked art. She liked language, so to speak.

But we always encouraged each other. So when it came down to leaving the field of work that reminded me of her in a bad way, I wanted something that would remind me of the good. ”

“Which one of your tattoos is the memory of her?” she asked.

“All the loose water that weaves throughout the different images is her. I didn’t want to get anything specific that would remind me of her since it would be too hard, but…

” I huffed, holding my arm up to look at the smooth ink that covered my skin.

“It all just reminds me of her anyway. Of dreams we didn’t get to see or promises I didn’t have time to fulfill. ”

“It hit you hard when she left?” she asked.

She knew the answer, so I suppose she wanted more than just the simple nod I wanted to give her. I shook my head, the memory of those first days, months, years of confusion and not knowing coming back to me all at once.

“It was so fast,” I said. “One minute I had a sister, had someone there with me through good and bad, easy and hard. Through all of it. And the next, I had no one. And I still don’t know why.

Whatever it was, I think we could have worked it out, I could have helped her through it.

But we never got the chance. It’s like losing a whole piece of yourself and not knowing how to grow it back without fucking it up again, cause you don’t know what you did to fuck it up in the first place. ”

“You didn’t mess anything up, Harper,” she said, “I’m starting to believe you don’t know how.

You’re honest and you’re encouraging and have such a gentle heart.

So I don’t believe for a second that you messed anything up.

Sometimes life just happens and things get all jumbled.

And I admire you for being so true to your promises that you could get them inked on your skin forever. ”

She was standing beside me now. Cradling the drawing pad to her chest as she drowned me with her eyes.

Her words pierced my chest, but I couldn’t go further than this.

Not yet. So I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual or at the very least less devastatingly grateful for her words.

“Enough of that buttering me up. If you want something just ask.”

“I want you,” she said simply. Directly. She was getting so good at that. And before I asked her to clarify, her soft lips were on mine. “Thank you for telling me about her.”

“Thank you for listening.”

“I drew you something real good,” she said, her mouth pulling up into a wide grin. “It looks just like you.”

Taking the pad, I found myself sputtering over a laugh. The drawing was the profile of a bear walking. It was all outline with no characteristics drawn within the design. Neat and simple, and pretty damn sharp. But still I had no idea why she’d drawn it .

“Bears are patient, protective, playful. Cuddly too,” she explained, nudging my arm. “But mostly it’s in the eyes.”

“This thing doesn’t have eyes,” I pointed out, studying the soft lines she used for the slope of the bear’s neck. A perfect line. She really was something else, this girl.

“Not the bear’s eyes, Harp, yours,” she said and laughed when I looked at her unsure what the hell she was talking about. “You’ve got these big brown bear eyes that see everything. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Hence the bear.”

“Ah,” I said, sort of getting it, but mainly enjoying that she thought of me as something at all. “I like it a lot, boss. I wanna use it. Can I liven it up a bit, though?”

Small hands shot out to still my own. “You w-want to use it for what? A tattoo?”

“Yes.”

“But it’ll be on your body forever.”

“Generally, that’s how they work, sweetheart.”

“And you want something I drew to be with you forever?”

Something passed through me as I looked at her eyes. Her face. Her . There was so much right in her. So much I was learning and so much I still wanted to know. I wanted to keep knowing her. Keep her.

“If I had my way, sweetheart, I’d keep a lot more of you forever.”

Her throat bobbed with her thick swallow, her eyes saying more than her simple words did. “Okay then, edit whatever you like. If it’s going on your body, I want you to love it.”

Still drowning in her gaze, I said, “I think I already love it.”

I was hot. Scorching. Burning. My throat got dry and my voice went husky. I didn’t know what I was saying, but I somehow knew I’d never take the words back.

And to my surprise, the look in her eyes mirrored mine. “Harper? ”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?”

My heart stuttered, both excited and terrified that maybe her something would match my something. “Anything.”

“I don’t ever want you to leave me alone.”

Satisfaction and disappointment. Once again she’d made the perfect cocktail of it.

Satisfaction rolled off me at her simple but powerful words.

She didn’t want me to leave, which meant she didn’t want to leave me either.

They were almost better than those other few words.

Yet, the absence of them was still glaring.

But surprisingly not pressing. As always, I didn’t mind waiting on this girl. I didn’t mind being ahead of her, because there was something behind those eyes that I understood. Something in the never ending fight she portrayed time and time again that promised me she would catch up soon.

Pressing my forehead to hers, I let out a long, steady breath. Steady because she stabilized me. And my words felt like a promise as I breathed, “Then, I won’t.”