Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
EVERETT
I lasted four days. Four days until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I started putting out some feelers before caving and asking my little sister to do some internet sleuthing.
Drake Haitt is the son of Sue Haitt and Bradley Ackerman, though they were never married. His dad played for some league in Canada and was known for being a hothead. Like father, like son. He knocked Sue up on one of his visits to the US. Based on an interview from a couple of years ago, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say his relationship with his dad is less than perfect. His mom passed away about six months ago, and ever since, he’s been even more of an ass on the ice.
Drake signed with the Springfield Titans during his senior year of high school and has been dating Raine Anders for almost two years. Raine works at a tattoo shop named Eternal and is under an apprenticeship with Lucian Boone, though most of the time, she answers the phone.
I turn my ignition off and climb out of the vehicle, heading into the gray brick building. Despite the dim lighting, the tattoo shop is busy. Rock music blasts from the speakers, and the large room is layered with half-walls, creating a maze and an ounce of privacy for the customers receiving tattoos. No Raine, though. Or at least not that I can see from the front of the building.
Dammit. I half expected her to be at the reception desk, but it’s occupied by a pretty blonde in a black tank top with a phone pinned between her ear and shoulder as she types at the computer.
What now?
Hands tucked into my pockets, I rock back on my heels, not ready to give up and leave.
When the pretty blonde sees me, she smiles and hangs up the phone. “Hi. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Raine,” I reply. “Is she working tonight?”
The blonde nods. “You’re in luck. I’m covering the phone while she takes her break. I think she’s creating some sketches, though. She’s right back there.” The blonde points to her left toward a cubicle space in the back.
Rising onto the balls of my feet, I look for the same small-framed woman from the game but only catch a glimpse of brown hair hunched over something. “Mind if I go and talk with her?”
The blonde lifts a fully-tatted shoulder. “Sure thing.”
“Thanks.”
As I make my way toward Raine, I spot the crown of her head above the half-wall again. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, wisps of brown frame her face, and her black T-shirt hugs her curves. No sunglasses this time. The bruise around her eye is either covered with makeup or starting to fade. It’s probably a combination. No new damage, at least. That’s something.
Pen in hand, she swirls the tip over paper, her mouth lifting as she focuses on whatever she’s drawing. She’s prettier than I remember. Less guarded. Like she’s lost in her own head. Her problems finally on the backburner, unlike the first time we met.
As if she can feel my stare, she looks up and freezes.
“Hello again,” I greet her.
“You.”
“Me,” I return dryly.
She looks around the parlor, then turns back to me. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.”
“I don’t need anyone checking on me.”
“Your fading black eye says otherwise.”
Lips bunched, she stands from the swivel chair she was straddling, grabs the sleeve of my jacket, and tugs me to the empty seat. It almost reminds me of a chair you’d find in a dental office. Once I’m seated, she lets me go and drops her voice low. “Look, I know you’re trying to be thoughtful and everything, but really, you’re coming off as an arrogant ass, so I think it’s best if I handle this on my own. You need to leave.”
“Look, I’m sorry for how I acted?—”
“I don’t care, okay? It doesn’t matter anyway, but if anyone sees you?—”
“Will you let me finish?” I snap. “I’m trying to apologize.”
“I don’t need your apology. I need you to leave.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not lea?—”
“This isn’t about you,” she seethes, collapsing into the chair across from mine. “Lockwood Heights is a small town. They’re all about their hockey, and they’re all about supporting LAU, right?”
I nod, confused. “Yeah?”
“Well, Cedar Springs is the same way. Grover University might be the underdog in this region, but we’re equally as passionate, and I have no doubt there’s already buzz about seeing one of LAU’s best players less than a mile from the Grizzlies’ campus. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“You’re saying it’s only a matter of time until word gets out that I’m here.”
“Exactly. And that you’re talking to me.” She takes a deep breath. “I should’ve never come to see you or Reeves, all right? It was a huge lapse in judgment on my part, but if you really want to help me, you need to leave me alone. Drake is a jealous guy, and thanks to your bullshit lie, he’s already suspicious that I’m cheating on him. Oh, and let’s not forget how our apartment is literally across the street, and one of Drake’s favorite pastimes is popping in to say he’s missed me, so please, just…go.”
The green of her eyes is practically glowing as she stares at me. Pleads with me. Begs me to let her fend for herself when we both know exactly where it’s gotten her. I want to ask so many questions, but mainly? I want to ask why she can’t walk away from him. Why she can’t leave. Why she’s deciding to stay when it’s clearly a terrible idea. But voicing any of my questions aloud feels pointless because it’s obvious she doesn’t want to hear them.
Resigned, I murmur, “Can I use your pen?”
She frowns. “What?”
“Your pen,” I repeat. “And a piece of paper.”
With a huff, she grabs the pen and pad of paper she’d been using and hands them to me. My eyes widen as I take in the sketch she’s creating. Thin blue lines. On-point shading. It’s a tree. Twisted limbs. Molting branches. Sunlight cutting through and casting shadows between the bare patches. It’s fucking insane.
Glancing up at her, I ask, “You drew this?”
She glances down at the paper, then back to me. “It’s only a sketch. ”
I look down at the drawing again and shake my head. “Only a sketch, my ass. This is really good, Raine.”
“You’re easily impressed.”
“Bullshit,” I argue. “This is incredible.”
She peeks at the work of art on the paper again, then lifts a shoulder.
“Why do you use a pen?” I prod. “You know, instead of a pencil or whatever.”
“It takes away the pressure of being perfect,” she explains before a frown mars her lips. Like she just remembered she’s annoyed with me or something. “You need to leave.”
Right.
I scribble my number beneath the kickass tree, then hand everything back to her. I stand and tug at the end of my jacket, smoothing it. “I know you don’t want my help, but if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, call or text me. I’ll be there.”
I weave my way to the front of the tattoo parlor and walk out the door without a backward glance.