Chapter Twenty-Four
Calli
Two things are making this more bearable. Garrett is being nice to me, and we’re sitting in the shade of a tree in Patterson Park, looking at the Observatory building. We each have an ice cream cone. I gave him shit about it because ice cream is not healthy. He ignored me and bought them anyway.
His appearance this morning is still a shock. I’m moving a little quicker now but when I saw him in the doorway, it took me a while to compute he was real. And he cooked for me…
That is a real head fuck.
Sin and Ruby were trying to come up with ideas to get him interested in me yesterday. And here he is, showing up without invitation.
‘Don’t read too much into this’ is on repeat in my brain.
“Calli?”
“Huh?”
Garrett is leaning against the tree trunk, his head against the gnarled bark. He gives me a quizzical look.
“Don’t tell me you’re regressing after all of this.”
“No,” I shake my head. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you’d ever designed anything like this?”
We turn to the Observatory building. With my critical architect head on, I study the building. It’s a prefabricated iron superstructure on a granite base, made up of four stories, and topped with a conical roof. There are projecting balconies and windows all the way around.
The view must be phenomenal, but it’s been closed to the public for years.
“I can appreciate it for what it is, and the work that went into it, but I’d never design anything like it. Is this another one of your attempts to stop me giving up on architecture?”
“We came out for air and ice cream. It’s not my fault someone built a Baltimore city landmark right by where we chose to sit.”
“Nice try.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Would you tattoo something like this?”
Garrett rubs his jaw. “Not really my thing either. I met a guy once who specialized in Irezumi, which is Japanese art. He used bamboo and a needle to poke the ink into the skin, rather than using a machine.”
“That sounds horrific.”
“It can create beautiful work, but you need to be skilled. This guy trained for years. A guy came all the way from Japan to get tattooed by him. He stayed for six months to get a full body suit finished.”
“With that poking method?” my nose wrinkles. The modern-day tattoo gun hurt, I can’t imagine a stick and a needle doing it.
“Yeah. It was really cool. Traditionally with that kind of work you get the full body done, but not the extremities, neck or face. It was so you could wear clothes with no one knowing you had tattoos.”
“Like those Japanese gangsters?”
“It’s a part of that lore I guess. This guy was just a regular businessman.”
“Or so he said.”
“Trust me, he wasn’t in the Yakuza. This guy was the furthest thing from a gangster. The cool thing about it though, they leave a blank space here, about three inches wide.” Garrett traces his finger down the center of his chest and stomach.
“Why?”
“So they can unbutton their shirts without exposing any ink.”
“You say that like it’s ingenious.”
“Back in the day they needed to be to hide their tattoos. In a way it was ingenious. It has deep tradition attached to it.”
“Sounds barbaric and painful.”
He chuckles. “You have to be some kind of way to get that type of work done, I guess.”
I tug at the grass and watch two butterflies flitting around by a patch of wildflowers. It is beautiful out here. And to think, I could have been wallowing away under a blanket the whole day, watching trashy TV and eating junk.
Isn’t that how most people recuperate from a hangover? Not Garrett. I’m liking the way he deals with it better. My head is clear, and I don’t feel like I need to puke anymore.
We sit in silence for a while, watching people walking by, some glance over at us and I wonder what they’re thinking. Me in a pink T-shirt and gray running pants, Garrett in his usual all black with his tattoos on full show. He doesn’t seem to care one way or another what people think.
It’s surreal being here with him. I want to know more. He’s shared some bits and pieces but there is a deeper part of him, one he hides away. Like how is he involved with a motorcycle club? And, of course, the sketch pad.
I keep coming back to that. What does it mean when he says she is the part of the reason he is the way he is with women. When I have picked the grass between my knees into oblivion, I finally lift my head and find Garrett watching me.
This is an opportunity to at least try. The worst that could happen is being shot down again. It feels like there is more between us now. Like he knows what I’m thinking, Garrett’s gaze bores into me.
“Who is she?” I ask quietly.
“Was,” he says after a while, turning his head to stare into the distance.
It was what I feared. Whoever the woman was, she’s no longer with us. Garrett doesn’t strike me as a guy to get hung up on a woman for so long.
“Gwen was my sister.”
That is not what I was expecting. The shock is followed by sadness, and sympathy for him. Losing a sibling has to be hard.
“She was eighteen. Gwen was… She was beautiful, aways smiling. The complete opposite to me,” he looks down at his hands before raising his eyes back to mine.
“What happened to her?” my voice is almost a whisper. This is far too reverent for loud voices.
“She was killed,” he swallows, the skin around his eyes pinching.
This is hard for him. I take a chance and reach out, putting my hand on his forearm. Garretts’s skin is warm from the sun. When he doesn’t shove me away, I keep my hand there and use my thumb to stroke back and forth.
I’m not sure if this is bringing any comfort, maybe to soften the blow of speaking aloud what I suspect he hasn’t done in years.
“An intruder broke into the house. Mom was out at work. I was… with friends. I’d had a fight with mom about some shit that doesn’t even matter anymore and didn’t go home. If I had…” he trails off.
My hand tightens around his arm. Garrett is carrying a lot of guilt about this.
“Mom found her when she got back from her late shift.” He clears his throat.
“You don’t need to tell me the detail,” I shuffle closer.
“It’s okay. I don’t talk about her a lot. Mom’s therapist said talking about her is important.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Garrett.”
“You’ve no idea how many times I’ve heard that. She shouldn’t have been home alone. I wouldn’t answer mom’s calls because I was still mad at her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He sniffs and shifts slightly. I go to pull my hand away, but he rests his over it. Not firmly, just stopping me from moving way. He doesn’t look at me, instead staring at the Observatory.
“He strangled her. Left her on the kitchen floor. The police never found him.”
Oh God, that is so much worse. All these years with no closure, no peace. It’s no wonder Garrett is the way he is. My eyes lower to my lap. I’ve never been good with comforting people, especially grieving ones. All I can hope is being here, listening, is helping.
“Mom never got over it. She had a mental breakdown.”
“It must have been hard for her.”
“It was fucking hard for me.”
I flinch back a little, his hand grips mine.
“Sorry,” his expression is pained when he looks at me. “This is why I try not to think about it. It stirs shit up I don’t enjoy having to deal with.”
“I get that,” I say. “It’s different for me, but talking about it is hard.”
Oh God, did I really compare losing my livelihood to him losing his sister? My cheeks burn.
“Not many people have been in a situation like this,” he shrugs. “It is hard to compare. You don’t need to feel bad.”
“It’s really nowhere near the same.”
“We all have pain, Calli. Your life changed. Mine too. The circumstances don’t matter when it comes to how it affects you.”
His reassurance does little to stop me feeling stupid for comparing our issues. Garrett plays with my fingertips absently. To stop from saying something else dumb, I sit in silence beside him.
“I haven’t seen my mom for eight years. She went to a facility about three years after it happened. I visited for a while, but she didn’t want me there. Guess I reminded her too much of Gwen.”
“She left you alone to deal with it.” It’s not a question. My heart breaks for that teenage boy, who felt immense guilt at not being there for his sister. Then to be abandoned by his mom too.
“Yeah well, it’s what she needed to do, I guess. I joined the army, made a lot of bad choices, and did some things I’m not proud of.”
“You were a kid, and you’d been left alone.”
He makes a noise that sounds like something sarcastic Garrett would do.
“Thank you for telling me. Those drawings make a lot more sense now. And I’m so sorry for looking at something so private. It is a painful memory I had no right walking all over.”
“Yeah well.” He shifts and this time my hand falls away. “It was a long time ago. I haven’t drawn in that book for years.”
It’s time to leave it alone. He’s already said he’s heard it all before. It’s heartbreaking he blames himself for something he had no control over.
“Explains a lot, huh?” his lip lifts on one side in a sardonic smirk.
“You’re not all bad.”
He lifts his brows in surprise.
“I’m not letting you off the hook. You were an asshole when I first met you. Well, that time at the shop. The other time you were different.”
I thought he was a delivery man when I was moving into my apartment. Why didn’t I remember that before now?
Garrett suddenly gets up. His body blocks the sun from my eyes, so I’m not blinded. I guess that hit a nerve. I was trying to make light of the situation. Is he angry? Garrett holds his hand out to me and pulls me up when I slip my palm in his. I lose my footing from the force and fall against him.
It’s a surprise when his arm wraps around my waist to steady me. My gaze locks on him. This man is a bundle of contradictions, with a side to him he rarely shows.
“Don’t look at me like that Calli.”
“Like what?” I whisper.
“Like I’m a decent guy. The first impression you got of me is who I am.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’re fooling yourself.”
“What is this then? You took care of me this morning.”
Garrett looks over the top of my head. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
He’s lying but I will not press him, or make him admit something he doesn’t want to. One thing I adhered to when I left San Antonio was never to chase anyone. Especially a man. I’ve got to look out for me.
“I should get back to the shop.”
I don’t understand the conflict on his face. His bike is at my place. I’ve got no choice but to walk back with him. We make small talk, because it’s weird as hell saying nothing.
The bike is parked right by the main entrance. We stop and once again, I have that awkwardness about how to say goodbye to him.
“Keep the tattoo moisturized.”
“That’s the plan.”
I go to turn away, but he grabs my wrist to stop me. I face him, waiting. He says nothing. I don’t need this confusion right now. He’s hot and cold. No matter what Sin and Ruby think, they don’t know Garrett like I do.
“You don’t need to push me away, Garrett. I know what this is between us.”
“That’s not what I’m doing…”
He takes a deep breath but never takes his eyes off me, except for when they dip to my mouth.
“Fuck it,” he growls out and pulls me toward him, our bodies flush.
His kiss takes me completely by surprise. I readily accept it, despite my earlier thoughts. Garrett grips my hip with one hand, the other cradles the back of my head. All I can do is let him take what he wants, what I am willing to give.
When he pulls back, I’m breathless. The way he gazes at me is holding me still
I’m more than aware there are people passing by on the sidewalk, watching us. Nothing else matters. Just the two of us, locked in some indescribable battle of who will pull away first. It won’t be me. I want to challenge him, let him know I’m not a woman afraid of what I want. And I want him.
Garrett drops his mouth on mine again, catching my bottom lip between his teeth, gently nipping at it. My pussy clenches. If he doesn’t drag me inside, I’m going to do it.
Unspoken we turn to my building, his hand pressed against my lower back. We get inside as the mail carrier puts something in my mailbox.
“Oh,” I pause and look over my shoulder at Garrett. It shouldn’t take long to grab the mail.
He is impatiently pressing against my side. It leaves me with no doubt about what he wants. His dick is hard as steel. He groans when I go over to open the mailbox and the carrier leaves.
There are two letters, one is from the cable company. The second is postmarked San Antonio. Shit. I still haven’t opened the other two.
Whatever Garrett sees on my face douses the lust. He comes over and tips my chin up. “What’s wrong?”
“Um… This is the third letter I’ve got from home. No one is supposed to know where I am.”
Garrett frowns and stares at the letter. “Who is it from?”
My shrug is sheepish. “I haven’t opened them.”
“You’ve left that life behind and don’t want to know?” he asks simply. Anyone else would have been telling me to open the letters and find out what it is.
It takes a moment for me to articulate my thoughts. “If it’s him, I don’t want to know anything.”
Garrett reaches for the letter, looking at me in question before I offer it up. He turns it over and back again. “There would be prison stamp if it’s from him,” he says tightly, pissed at the thought of Jared reaching out.
“Oh.” Right, I never thought of that.
“Come on,” Garrett doesn’t pass the letter back, he takes my hand and pulls me toward the stairs. “We’ll go upstairs, and you decide what you want to do.”
Inside my apartment I go to the kitchen drawer and take out the other two letters, setting them on the counter. Garrett leans back against the fridge and crosses his arms over his chest. It makes his biceps bulge.
Can’t we go back to what we were coming here for? I don’t want to admit I’ve not opened these letters because I am scared to do it alone.
He’s silent, watching, but not judging me. He’ll back me if I choose to tear them up.
“You want a coffee?” he asks, his voice startling me.
“You’re letting me have coffee?”
“It’s better than vodka,” he smirks. “And yeah, I’ll allow it, given the situation.”
He’s joking, and it lightens the mood. “The hangover cure worked. Vodka might not be a bad idea.”
“You don’t need alcohol to help you make this decision, Calli.”
Only his silent support. He doesn’t have to say it.
“I’ll ask you about that full name of yours later,” he adds.
“Vixen is preferable,” I retort, making his lip twitch again. “I kind of liked people here not knowing my full name.”
“What’s it gonna be? Coffee and opening the letter, or I can rip off your underwear and fuck you senseless?”
“Jesus…” When he started that sentence, I thought he was going to say rip up the letter. “I might need that after.”
“Fine by me, Vixen .”
I decide to open the most recent letter first. It might be the easiest to stomach because it will be whoever this is pestering me to respond to the other letters. When I take out the paper and unfold it, my focus goes to the logo in the top corner right away. I gasp.
Garrett straightens away from the fridge, but he doesn’t speak, or come any closer.
“It’s from a client.” I say it for his benefit but don’t elaborate as I read through the letter. It is asking if I’ve received their other letters and they would like it if I can get in touch.
Shit, what is this about? My company ended up owing a lot of money to people. This bankrupted me. They can’t want more from me. And how did they find me?
That is when I notice the slip of paper still inside the envelope. It’s from my attorney. It’s handwritten and says they didn’t give any of my information away and sent this on behalf of the company. That has to be a good thing, right?
Setting it aside, I grab the first letter and tear that open. Another handwritten note from my attorney which I put to one side. He would have let me know if this was bad news, surely.
I blow out a deep breath and open the letter. My eyes move over the two short paragraphs, then I read it again. And again. Garrett shifts behind me. I’m at a loss for words. He takes the letter when I pass it to him, then I open the second one.
My heart is thundering so hard, I’m worried it’s beating right out of my chest. It’s another request to get in touch to discuss the work I was doing for them before everything turned to shit.
“Damn,” Garrett murmurs.
“Fuck is a better word,” I set the letter down and rest my palms on either side of it.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. It’s not a joke, is it?”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” he steps over and sets the letter down, reading through the second one. “Sounds like they’re very serious.”
Shifting my elbows to prop me up, I cover my mouth with my hands, gazing off toward the hallway where my renderings are framed on the wall. One of them is the building I designed for this company.
It was my greatest achievement. The building I was most proud of and couldn’t wait to see become a reality. I’ve only recently wrapped my head around my career being over, destroyed with no hope.
These letters give me hope. They want me to come back to San Antonio and finish what we started. They still have faith in me and want to continue our work together. The letter goes so far as to apologize for not speaking up sooner.
To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement. I don’t know what to do with this information.
“Will you do me a favor?” I turn to Garrett. His brow is creased, but he nods. “Fuck me senseless.”
“Right now?” he nods to the letters.
“Yep, right now.”
I need to ground myself. I’ve spent months turning my life around, becoming someone different. Finally accepting who I am here and being happy. And I am happy. Whether my old friends would believe that or not, I don’t care. Money, prestige and rich friends never got me anything. All it did was end up destroying me.
Seeing that offer in black and white, inviting me back into my old life, is so gut wrenching, I can’t get a handle on how I feel. I need to feel something else.
Garrett’s eyes switch back and forth on mine. He can read what I’m thinking. I’ve never been surer. There is no denying this connection between us. It’s more than physical. I’m about to come apart. Only he can hold me together.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Maybe sex is the wrong way to do it. I’m happy to be wrong right now. My nod is all the answer Garrett needs.
His hand reaches up to clasp the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. It’s rough, but it doesn’t hurt, and I’m not scared.
“I’ll do whatever you want, but there is something you need to do first.”
I don’t want to hear that. Not now. He cocks his head at my glare. His laugh is dark and sexy. My heart flutters. And other parts of me.
“I want you to fuck my face, Vixen.” His hand dips between my thighs, cupping my pussy which is already soaked and desperate for him. “Ride it hard. I’m going to eat you over and over, till you can’t fucking stand it anymore. Then I’m going to take what I need. I’ll feed you my cock, make you choke on it, before I ruin this pussy.”
I’ve never been so lost for words in my life. There is nothing in my head. It’s all gone. I can’t form a coherent thought. Garrett lets me go and moves me ahead of him. He slaps my ass, but follows it by rubbing away the sting.
This is what draws me in about him. The rough with the smooth. The way he uses those dirty words after comforting me.
His lips press against my ear. “What are you waiting for Calliope? I’m fucking hungry.”