The Ink That Haunts Us

Chapter Twelve

During my nap, I slept like the dead. Mack had to force me out of bed, laughing despite the ugly words I uttered every time he shook me. After a long moment in the bathroom contemplating just running away from all my life problems, I tamed the mess that was my hair and made myself look like a functioning human being.

    Mack, bless him, stopped on the way and purchased me a huge coffee from my favorite coffee shop. The warm, caffeinated goodness worked wonders on waking me up and turning my mood around. By the time we reached the shop, I almost felt as functional as I looked. It was a miracle really.

    We were the first to arrive as usual. Mack always arrived before the others to make sure they had extra supplies they would need to get them through the day. Plus, he liked to have the computer up and going before Freya arrived. He really was the best boss. Sometimes I felt like I don't give him enough credit.

    "We're not likely to be very busy today," I noted, spinning around in one of the chairs behind the reception desk.

    "It is Wednesday." When he turned to look at me, I gave him my best smile. He gave me a suspicious look. "What?"

    "There's a spot on my back that needs covering," I said still grinning.

    "I bet there is," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you have any appointments today?"

    "Not a single one," I pouted.

    "Go get set up," he said, pulling up the schedules for the day.

    By the time Mack found his way into my studio, I had arranged everything on the desk and stretched out on the tattooing table, shirt off.

    "Impatient, aren't you?" He snickered sitting in my usual chair.

    "This is the only therapy I can afford these days," I said, my voice muffled by the mat.

    "Your coping method isn't healthy." A fact he has mentioned a hundred times.

    "Yeah, yeah." When the familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun started, I relaxed, letting all my worries fade.

    The crew arrived an hour and a half later and to my relief, Mack had just finished up. I moved from my place in front of the mirror, scrambling to grab my shirt and yank it on. I hadn't gotten it completely over my head before the guys burst into the room. My heart felt like it was in my throat as I frantically tried to cover myself.

    "Do you mind?!" I shrieked, pulling my shirt over my exposed midriff.

    "Apologies, pet," Jensen muttered, backing out of the room with Freya in tow. Tyler muttered his own apologies as he made his own quick exit, but Derek's hard gaze covered every inch of exposed skin before I could hide.

    "Get out!" I snapped.

    The way he looked at me told me he had seen what I had been trying to hide. The air in the room felt so thick you could cut it with a knife, and it was making me feel like I couldn't breathe.

    "Saw?" He took a step forward, giving me a questioning look.

    "Leave, Derek," I said, backing away. The panic in my voice betrayed me and I looked to Mack for help.

    He didn't hesitate. "Let's give her some space, yeah?"

    Derek looked like he might object, but after another narrow eyed look from me, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. A few moments later, I heard his door slam shut so hard it rattled the walls.

    "I think now I kind of got an idea of how Freya felt when she was trying to figure Jensen out," I huffed. "It's no wonder she was so out of sorts all the time."