Page 8 of Under My Skin

Chapter Eight

EVERETT

Without waiting for a response, I turn and pick up the cat carrier on the bottom step. Pudge lets out a tiny meow, probably in protest of being picked up by a stranger, but he settles as soon as he’s back in familiar arms.

Lucy gapes at me. “You don’t take walk-ins,” she says quietly, like the thought had never occurred to her.

“Nope.” I cross my arms. “Never have. I’m surprised you didn’t stumble across that while you were making this carefully thought-out plan.”

She blinks, her eyes refocusing on me. “I’m sorry . . . I—” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

It’s mildly off-putting to see the fight drain from her so quickly. She looks like she’s been snapped out of a trance, and like I’m the one who poured the bucket of ice water on her head.

“Look, if you like the tattoo, I’ll do it for you tomorrow night. Saturdays are busy here, but I don’t mind staying late. Just let me know.”

She frowns seconds before forcing a small smile, and for the first time tonight, I can see how much she’s struggling.

“Hey,” I say when she starts to look lost in her thoughts again.

Her blue eyes clear, and I add, “I’m sorry about your parents.

Just know everything will work out. It will be different, but different doesn’t have to mean bad. ”

She nods, swallowing down whatever had her attention a moment ago.

Looking down at Pudge in the carrier, she sticks one of her fingers through a gap in the zipper to scratch him behind the ears.

“Yeah, different doesn’t have to mean bad.

” She flicks her eyes up to mine with a small smile, and I’m relieved it looks more genuine than the last. “Sometimes I just wish change came with more of a warning.”

“Don’t we all.”

I’m tempted to ask if her parents have told her about their split yet, but it feels too personal. I might know Lucy, but I don’t know Lucy, and if there’s any chance that question would unravel the string barely holding her together, I don’t want to be the one to send her spinning.

“So, tomorrow.” She nods with conviction.

Mirroring her movement, I echo, “Tomorrow.”

With that, she grins and heads toward the exit. She picks up the bag she left up front and swings it over her shoulder. And when she presses her back against the door to push it open with her arms full, my eyes are still on her.

We lock gazes, but only long enough for one more weak lift of her lips. Then, she’s out the door and onto the busy street. It isn’t until she walks out of view that I blink back to reality. And only then do I realize Toni, petite and unsuspecting, stands at my side and stares in the same direction.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” she asks as she bites into a Nerds Rope. She always rewards herself with candy after she’s wrapped her last tattoo.

“Done for the day?” I ask, eyeing her candy.

She nods and takes another bite. Pointing the colorful rope toward the door, she says, “Yeah, but what the hell was that about? ”

I turn to start cleaning my station. “Nothing. She’s Simon’s sister. I think she’s just having a hard time because their parents are getting a divorce.”

She narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything. I ignore her calculating silence as long as I can, but eventually, I stop what I’m doing. “What?”

She halts her chewing for what might be the longest five seconds of my life. Being scrutinized by Toni is terrifying. After a moment, she just shrugs and goes back to eating. “You’re being weird,” she announces before walking away.

I scoff. I’m not being weird. She’s being weird. Even as the thought crosses my mind, I can’t help glancing out the glass storefront again like Lucy might be sitting on the bench out front with her bag and her cat.

Toni works on packing up her things while Troy and Alex focus on their current clients, so I head back upstairs to my future home.

The creaks in the narrow staircase are starting to become familiar to me.

Even though I’ve had this space for a while, I only ever used it for storage until it was time to get the contractor in there.

The stairs I once climbed on occasion are gradually getting broken in as the apartment gets closer to completion.

The only furniture I have up here is a standing floor lamp in the corner. Before heading downstairs, I hadn’t turned it off, so the soft glow of the lamp still illuminates the empty space.

Returning to where I stood before, I cross my arms as I stare at the different paint swatches covering the wall.

Part of me was hoping the decision would be an easy one after taking some time away.

But as I stare at the array of colors, all I can think about is the sadness and determination behind Lucy’s eyes.

The way she looked up at me with her arms crossed and her jaw set.

The way she softened as soon as I gave her a valid reason for not tattooing her tonight.

In my defense, I think her getting an impulsive tattoo of her cat is enough of a valid reason, but her being a walk-in was the perfect loophole for turning her away .

I wonder if she’ll come back.

As much as I know she shouldn’t, part of me hopes she will. The last thing I want is to be responsible for a tattoo she might regret, but I’m intrigued by who Lucy Blake has become. She’s somehow just as I remember and someone completely new all at once.

With a sigh, I give up on picking a color and head to the corner of the room to pull the chain on the light.

Darkness swallows the space aside from the faint glow shining from the bottom of the stairs.

The open entryway still doesn’t have a door, and the thought of having something else I need to pick makes me want to get out of here that much faster.

Toni has already left by the time I get back downstairs, so I say bye to the guys and make sure Alex knows to lock up.

The rule used to be whoever finished last would lock the place at night, but I was once greeted by a raccoon after I left things in Troy’s hands, so now I only leave it up to Alex or Toni.

I zip up my jacket as I push open the back door, and the cool night air makes me more awake.

The anniversary of my dad’s death last month has made this time of year hard, but for most of my life, I loved fall in Copper Ridge.

Sure, the tourism picks up, making everything too crowded, but the crisp air makes it easier to breathe.

My 1987 Honda Shadow sits in the alley behind the shop as always, its glossy black paint and chrome accents reflecting in the moonlight.

It’s still weird to think of it as mine.

I watched my dad baby this thing like it was made of precious metals for years.

He’d take it out, go for a ride, wash it, then tuck it back into the garage.

I wonder if he’d care that I use his bike every day.

I like to think he wouldn’t mind—that he sees it as my own way of honoring him.

One thing’s for sure, though. There’s no way in hell he’d ever leave this bike in a back alley.

I swing my leg over the bike and kick up the kickstand. I reach for my helmet and pull it snug over my head and face before bringing the engine to life beneath me. Turning the throttle a couple of times, I kick the bike into gear and cruise down the alleyway before turning onto the main road.

The dinner crowd has cleared, and the bar crowd has started to mesh with the all-day brewery goers.

It’s no longer families under the glow of the streetlights but people in their twenties and early thirties.

Hell, people my age. It’s not like I wasn’t at a brewery earlier with Simon.

It’s been a while since I’ve been out at night, though.

Now that Simon’s single, every night out turns into a game of who he can take home next.

It was fun at first, watching him shoot his shot and getting the motivation to shoot mine.

But the appeal has since faded. I don’t like chaotic nights followed by awkward mornings.

How desperate I am for them to leave when the sun comes up is enough to turn me off.

Shaking the thought, I pick up speed and head toward my temporary home.