Chapter 7
Haden
Ilove this time of the day, when the shop is still closed and silence is my only companion. No loud voices, no music, and no requests, just me and this place I now call home.
There was a time when I wasn’t alone, when Henry was still here.
He was always talking, explaining every single move he made, every line, and every tool, until they became second nature.
I remember how everything was new, and how I’d pretend not to like it, but instead I was drinking in every one of his words as if they were water.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out. A message from my phone provider about new exciting features I should have to stay connected with friends and family.
I don’t need these kinds of texts to show me how alone I am.
This is exactly what I want. Being alone means no suffering from losing what you love, what you hold dear.
I don’t really want to work, but this will help me stay away from the guest I have upstairs, who I’m unable to leave alone if last night is any indication.
Also, I couldn’t cancel these appointments, because one customer spends a lot of money here, and loves to brag about his tattoos and my shop.
The other one is a newby, and I’m afraid he’ll never get one if I cancel.
He was already stressed when he booked the appointment.
After these sessions, I’ll be free for a couple of weeks to get used to being a parent.
Me, a parent.
The word sounds all wrong, especially referring to me.
I look up again, and my mind travels to the man upstairs. What the fuck am I doing? I have enough problems without bringing home a stray kid. Without getting attached to a stranger. And I offered for him to stay even longer… What was I thinking?
I thread my hand through my hair, as if that could save me from myself and the need I have to make sure he’s fine.
My gaze drops to the phone, and I’m moving even before my mind can formulate the thought. How could I have left him on the sofa alone? It’ll be too painful for him to get up without injuring himself more.
I take the stairs two at the time, and when I’m finally upstairs my breath sounds like a kettle on a stove.
I enter the apartment, trying not to make too much noise, so I don’t disturb him if he’s sleeping.
Jay is there, lying on the sofa, and just like last night I’m captivated by him.
His chest is rising and falling with his breath, his lean frame looking so small on my oversized sofa, and his black and blue face sends tendrils of rage through my body.
I should have punched that fucker last night, harder and without mercy… And I should have kept punching him until he was in the same state Jay is in now.
I walk to his room to pick up the phone, and then come back out. I stop next to the sofa, crouch, and lean in to whisper in his ear, “Here’s your phone.” I place it next to the cushions he’s resting his head on.
He moves, trying to sit up, but I’m not even sure he opens his eyes.
I place a hand on his shoulder and he settles back down. His trust makes a little crack in the wall I’ve built around myself.
I release him after a moment, and I’m ready to stand up when a ray of light lands on his hair. Those curls sparkle under the sun, and my hand moves of its own accord to check if they’re as soft as they look.
Have I ever touched anything so silky?
He relaxes even more under my touch, making that crack a bit longer.
I’m aware I should remove my hand and go back to work, but I’m rooted to the spot. I’m not sure if there’s something wrong with me or if there’s something in Jay making me crazy, but I’m not acting like myself at all.
Just like last night…
I couldn’t stay still in bed, especially when I couldn’t hear any sounds or movement coming from the other room. I spent more time in and out of bed than actually sleeping.
Every time I reached his room, I promised myself I’d just check from far away, only to move in closer and closer, until I was so close to the bed I could watch Jay’s chest rise and fall.
Only seeing that had the power to calm my fear…
while I was in the room. Once I left, I was back to square one, pacing my room until I walked back to check on him again.
Kai—neighbour, doctor, and noisy individual—gave me clear instructions. I had to check on him every couple of hours, not every five minutes.
Fear is a fucking beast to tame.
I was ashamed of myself this morning and tired as hell. I’m glad no one was there to witness my behaviour. Especially Jay. He doesn’t need to know I spent the night in and out of his room, afraid he would die. Him not knowing means I can pretend to ignore what I did last night.
Sleep was a foreign word last night, and not only because of Jay.
Arianna was on my mind, and my pleading with the Lord to take everything away and give Halia back to me.
I thought of my parents, the horrible memories and my desire for things to be different, as well as the responsibilities coming my way, and my inability to refuse.
Everything felt, and feels even today, like too much.
My grumpiness this morning was at an all time high.
This morning the noises coming from the second room settled something inside me, and pushed me to check on him once more. I watched Jay without being seen, admiring how cute he was wearing my PJs.
I liked it a little too much seeing him wearing my clothes.
The hot rage burned inside my body, just like last night, at seeing the damage that fucker inflicted on him, one of his eyes barely open and his neck bearing the signs of that bastard’s hand.
Visions of that man violently thrusting inside his mouth had filled my mind making it impossible to act calm and collected.
What scared me the most, though, was my instinct pushing me to take him in my arms and protect him from everyone and everything, telling me to care for him, and only my willpower kept me near the door.
After telling him where I put his clothes and that breakfast was nearly ready, I left him in the room and went back to make breakfast. That gave me time to calm myself.
I never cook breakfast for myself, I live on coffees and takeaways, but this morning I did, because I needed to take care of him.
These fragile vibes he has around him make me incredibly aware of any sounds and shuffles he produces while moving.
I don’t want to care for anyone, because caring means dependency. And dependency means pain when they turn their back on you. Not getting involved is the best thing I can do for myself.
Then you shouldn’t have brought him home. I can’t argue with my brain… I shouldn’t have, and yet…
Another thing I shouldn’t do is touch him, but even this morning when he struggled on his feet, swaying from one side to the other like a leaf taken by the wind, I offered my forearm so I could help him sit.
Fuck if his touch didn’t mess me up. His strong grip to fight the pain and his short nails marking my body are embedded in my skin.
We shared names, and then I went back to being my friendly self by ordering him around. Sit, eat, don’t play with your food.
He never complained, not once. Instead, he followed every order.
Watching him trying to scoff his food made me wonder if he ever eats.
With how skinny he is, I believe his meals are few and far between.
When he whimpered in pain, I was out of my seat in seconds and back as fast with some ice cream.
His look of desperate gratitude made my lungs flutter as if full of butterflies.
Fucking butterflies. Me. Mr No Emotions.
Discussing last night was unavoidable, as were his questions.
“Did you help me last night?”
“Yeah, I was out there to answer a call when I saw what was happening.” I hate that his face goes all guilt-ridden and flushes red.
He tries to explain, but the more he does the antsier I get.
Confusion fills me, because he’s nothing to me. He’s just a stranger, and I shouldn’t be so invested, but instead, even my brain betrays me. “I met Jeremy, and he’s the reason you’re here,” I say, trying to get away from the pitiful explanation that seems to make him feel even worse.
“I’ll get my stuff and clear out,” he says, and my mouth runs away from me before I can weigh my words.
“You can stay here for a couple of days. Until you’re better. But call your friend as he’s blowing up my phone, and it’s fucking annoying.”
“Yes.”
I stand, still shocked by the proposal, and my need to hide in my shop eats me alive. “I’ll be downstairs at work.”
“Okay.”
I should walk away, but instead I stay still. “Rest.” I order him, because if he does it, he’ll be out of here sooner. “Tell Jeremy he can come to see you.” Fuck, my mouth keeps running the show. I need to fucking leave.
A beep outside brings me back to the room and dissipates the memories of last night.
Helping him back to the sofa and offering him to stay for a couple of days confused me to no end. Touching him gives me peace, and that confuses me even more…
I untangle my hand from his curls, and without another look, I go back downstairs. I don’t need those memories, I’ve banned them from my mind, from my existence. I want my life to stay as simple as it is.
What about Arianna?
That thought stays with me all morning, while my brain is free of mulling over things, especially in between appointments.
I’m glad this client was early, so I could concentrate on creating the design, and now I’m getting the chair ready, and once I’ve started there won’t be any distraction until I’m done.
“Sit here, please,” I guide the client to the chair I’ve just cleaned.
I clean the part where the tattoo is going to go and then set myself to start the job.
Usually this part is the part I love most, when I watch my creations take form and be forever branded into someone else’s skin. Today, though, I just want to be done. I take a deep breath, and when I exhale I let all my thoughts go, leaving space only for my job.