Silent Is The Heart

CHAPTER 24

Easton

Who used to be a highly capable tattoo artist who could finish a design before anyone else in this shop, but now watches the clock, counting the minutes until Aaron gets off work? This fucking idiot… this smitten as fuck…

No. I’m not an idiot. I’m…

I’m not going to say it. A giant rock will fall on me, or I’ll trip outside and Wolf will accidentally run me over with his van or something. That’s what happens when you say it out loud… or think it. Right?

Cleaning my tools from my last job before my next client comes in, I decide there’s at least nothing wrong with thinking about why I feel how I feel. Yeah. Cool. That’s safe.

People fuck all the time. So, why do I keep smiling like I have a secret whenever I think about the other day?

Because you finally got fucked by the only man you ever wanted to fuck you.

Shut up.

Great. Now I’m arguing with myself.

One of me does have a point, though. It wasn’t exactly fucking. It was… the other kind of fucking. The nice kind.

Does Shannon have the heat cranked up in here? The memory of feeling like Aaron was part of my soul while he looked down at me like I was the only thing he wanted to see for the rest of his life sends me into another hot flash. Okay. It’s not our furnace.

Snickering, I can’t wipe the grin off my face. I’m still too blown away to be embarrassed over daydreaming like a fool.

He’s just so… Aaron . About everything .

When we were done, he looked like he was as tired as I was, but he lay there, fighting it. He just kept staring at me with this dreamy smile.

“You glad I got that out of my system?” I’d snarked, feeling self-conscious.

“Well, I hope once wasn’t enough to get it out of your system.”

Hearing that he wasn’t disappointed brought me way too much joy, but that wasn’t even the worst part. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my chest, just over my heart, and then pulled me against him in his arms. We… cuddled.

I’m a fucking cuddler now.

Jesus.

For as much as that sounds like aliens abducted me and replaced my personality with some sappy person who gets attached, the thought of cozying up to him again tonight has my knee bouncing with anticipation for the freaking clock to move faster.

Something stabs me in the back of the shoulder. I turn around and get a face full of mail thrust at me by one agitated-looking Clark Wolverton.

What the fuck? He could have just dropped it on my side table.

Shit. There’s a lot here.

“Your mail was falling out of the box. When’s the last time you even checked it?”

Flipping through the letters, I spot one from the parole board. My throat closes and I see rage, as usual. They need a way for people to request not to get these damn things. Leonard can rot in there for all I care. Tossing it in the trash can, I hold up my utility bill, check the postmark date, and glance at Wolf.

“Not since last Tuesday, from the looks of it.”

“Dude…what is the deal? Are you guys like boyfriends now? You’re over there all the time.”

Boyfriends … Is Aaron my boyfriend? It’s only been a week. And we only did the nice kind of fucking thing once. That doesn’t make him my boyfriend, does it? The closest thing I’ve ever had to one was trading handies and blow jobs with Ben when I was a teenager. Mostly, we just hung out. Kind of like I’ve been hanging out with Aaron for just a little over two months now. Hanging out with Aaron is different, though. I didn’t get that strange giddy feeling with Ben the way I do with Aaron.

Wolf is still eyeballing me like he expects me to answer the boyfriend question. Shit. Why do I feel sick at the thought of Aaron being hurt if he heard me deny such a claim in front of him? Or if I heard him deny the claim in front of me ? Oh my God. Do I actually want a boyfriend?

Do not smile. Do not fucking smile right now or he’ll give you shit forever.

“Does Melissa have you scrapbooking or something? I didn’t know you were including my life events in your memoirs,” I snark.

Rolling his eyes, he walks over to my stool and gives it a weak kick. “We’re breaking up.”

Yeah. I’ve heard that before. I swear those two do not know how to fight. They don’t even yell when they fight.

“Well, there’s always next week.”

Glowering at me, he stuffs his hands in his black jeans, looking ready to commit murder. “For real this time. I caught her texting with some guy she works with.”

Oh, brother. He’s always so over-possessive, like he thinks everything will take off on him like his mom did.

“ Like boyfriends ?” I parrot, smugly, trying to show him how ridiculous he’s being.

Nostrils flaring, his expression sours further. “No, like ‘ Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, beautiful .’”

Oh… shit.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say, but that must be enough because he nods, fucking with my stool again.

“Guess you’re bunking back at your house, then?” I venture.

Snorting, he cards his fingers through his hair roughly, pinching his eyes closed. “No. Mom called. She said she’s selling it.”

Okay, I liked Melissa well enough. She always championed Wolf and didn’t treat him like he was disabled. It’s sad his relationship is ending this way, but his mom is selling the house? It’s a gut punch. It was like a second home for me for a while. Or… third home, if you count Nancy’s. Fourth if you count Hampton Hell. Whatever. Wolf’s lived there his entire life, minus the periods of time when he gets serious with a woman and stays at her place.

How the fuck can his mom up and sell it on him when it's the only home he's ever known? When she was off galivanting the world with whatever guy she was seeing at the time, it was Wolf's only source of security besides his time with me and Jasper at Jasper's shop. When the gutters went bad, he fixed them. When the furnace went out, he's the one who'd call for repairs. The guy has been doing his own grocery shopping and cooking since he was like twelve all MacCaulay Culkin style. The way I see it is that it’s his house. No wonder he looks like a black cloud is hanging over him.

“Fuck, man.” Standing up, I take a step forward, so he knows he’s got my full attention now if he wants it. “That’s some bullshit.”

Shrugging, he fiddles with my ink display. “It’s her house.”

Liar. He so does not feel that way either.

“What are you going to do?”

“Look for a new place, I guess. She hasn’t even gotten an appraiser lined up yet, so I’ve got a while. I’ll start going through my stuff, though.”

Giving his arm a soft punch, I flash him a cheerful grin. “You can come be my roommate. I always wanted someone to cook for me.”

Snorting, he shoves me before heading out of my stall. “Yeah, right. Get your fucking boyfriend to cook for you.”

He does cook for me. And it’s damn good.

Shit. Maybe I do have a boyfriend.

For fuck’s sake. At least quit smiling about it.