Page 35 of Bittersweet Redemption

It shouldn’t bother me that she hasn’t tried to talk to me about what happened last weekend. Normally, I’d want to avoid the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ chat at all costs. But this time, it bothers me.

It bothers me that she hasn’t brought it up.

It bothers me that I want her to ask to talk about it.

And it bothers me that someone left her a note calling her a whore the day after it happened.

But none of this matters because I’m heading to work, and she’s going on a date.

* * *

I grip the steering wheel so tight on my drive to work that my fingers are almost numb when I park. My mood has only gotten worse since I left the house, and as soon as I walk in, Jenna knows something is up.

“What’s wrong with you, big guy?” she asks from behind the front desk.

“Nothing,” I grumble.

“Bullshit.” We’ve just opened, so the studio is empty.

“I’m not in the mood today, Jenna,” I call out as I pass her and head toward my tattoo area. I get everything set up for my first appointment, which actually shows up on time. I feel bad that the woman tries to make small talk with me, but all I can think about is Willa sitting across from some guy laughing, drinking, and having a good fucking time. Without me.

Once I’m finished with her tattoo, I walk her up to the front and go over the aftercare instructions. After she leaves, I’ve got my head resting on my hands against the front desk when Jones comes up to me. Jenna hasn’t tried to talk to me again, which I’m grateful for.

“What the fuck, man? You totally could’ve taken that chick home,” Jones says, clapping my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“My neighbor is out on a date.” I feel stupid even saying it out loud.

Jenna and Jones exchange a look. “And that makes you mad?”

I slap the counter. “Yeah, it makes me fucking mad. But it makes me fucking furious that I’m even mad about it to begin with.”

“Um, alright. We’re gonna need you to start from the beginning.”

So, I do. I tell them about her damning testimony that sent me to prison. I tell them about her retracting her statement, her moving in next door, her kid, the tree falling on her house, and her moving in with me. Last, I tell them that we may have fooled around. But I definitely don’t go into details on that.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kai,” Jones says when I’m finished. Jenna is trying her best not to smile.

“Yeah, I know. I’m a mess.”

“So why are you here?” Jones asks me.

My brows furrow in confusion because that was not the question I was expecting. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you here in this building telling us your sob story when you should be at whatever fucking restaurant your girl is at making small talk and googly eyes with another dude?”

“I didn’t realize that being a jealous asshole was reason enough to call out of work,” I retort.

“It can’t be an everyday thing, dipshit.” He punches my shoulder. “But this is an emergency. You don’t want her out there building a relationship with someone else.”

“You think I should crash her date?” I want to. I really, really do. But it might be overstepping.

“Do you have feelings for this girl?” Jones asks.

A frustrated sigh escapes me. “I feel a lot of things toward her.” They both laugh. I’m glad someone can find humor in this. “I’ve never felt this intense about someone, though. I can’t figure out if it’s hate or lust or anger or something else entirely.”

Jones puts a hand on each of my shoulders and looks me directly in the eyes. “Listen, you’re never going to figure out what you’re feeling if you don’t explore it. Do I think you should crash her date?” He drops his arms. “No, I think you should fucking destroy it. Go in there, and don’t leave until she’s begging you to take her home to your bed.”

God, that sounds like a good idea. I’ve been afraid of crossing any lines with Willa because of our history. I don’t trust her, and she probably doesn’t trust me. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work out our frustrations together in bed. We’d be good together. I can already tell from our one night.