Chapter 1
one
Four years later
The buzz of tattoo machines typically drowns out the incessant sound of my mind telling me to be scared, to stay on edge. At any moment, Cooper could show up and drag me back to the hell I ran from all those years ago. It takes conscious effort to remind myself every day that he can’t find me.
I stripped away every trace of the girl I’d been, cutting my long, wavy, bleach-blonde hair to my shoulders, dying it back to my natural light brown, adding streaks of purple as a small rebellion just for me.
Over the four years we’ve spent here, I've picked up more than a few tattoos on my once-bare skin. I was embarrassed to show Elijah, one of the owners here at Grovewood Ink, the scars across my back. But I’m grateful he didn’t ask questions when he tattooed a large lily flower between my shoulder blades.
It was the one piece of my old life I wanted to hold on to.
I think all of my friends have come to their own conclusions about my past, but only Breaker, Jaxon, and I really know the truth.
As much as I wanted to ask Jaxon to change his name for protection more than anything else, I couldn’t ask him to do that.
I had already taken so much from him, uprooting his whole life just to keep us both alive.
I couldn’t imagine taking that last piece from him.
Even though I never asked him to fill the role, Jaxon has always considered himself my protector.
He did his best to stand up to his father, even when I begged him not to.
It’s always been my responsibility as his mother to protect him.
He's already seen the lengths I would go to just to make sure he’s never in danger, and I hope one day he’ll understand I did the best I could with a horrible situation.
The guilt I carry for ever bringing him into a home like that will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I can’t look back.
I can only build a better future for us both now, and hope he appreciates it.
Jaxon isn’t a complainer, and he never really asks for much.
Art supplies and a motorcycle are the only things he's ever actually asked for from me, and I’m happy to keep him fully stocked on art supplies.
Logically, I know there’s no connection between motorcycles and the kind of man Cooper was.
I’m surrounded by wonderful men here at Grovewood Ink who love their wives fiercely, and their motorcycles have never changed that.
I've even considered taking a quick trip or two on the back of Helo’s bike, but try telling my heart there’s no correlation, even if it’s an inanimate object.
Helo, the tattoo shop’s business manager and one of the first people I met in this town, has been a genuine friend to me when I needed it most. I met him when Elijah and Everett, the shop co-owners, hired me to work at the front desk.
He was in charge of all my new-hire paperwork, and I’m sure my utter lack of information was absolutely no help to him.
Even though Breaker told me the identity he built was foolproof, I didn’t take any chances.
I gave Helo as little information as possible and shut him down when he pushed for anything else.
It’s almost funny that now he’s the first one I call whenever I need something, no matter how big or small.
Over the few years I’ve been here, he's come to my aid time and time again, but I don’t let anyone close enough to see behind the walls I worked so hard to build.
The bell over the front door rings, and I watch my entire world walk across the threshold.
Even at seventeen, I still see my baby boy every time I look at Jaxon.
The first time I held him in my arms, his golden brown eyes mirroring my own, I knew I would go to the ends of the earth to protect him.
He stands over six feet with the broad shoulders of a man, but in my heart, he’ll always be my baby.
“Hey, honey. How was school?” I ask, clicking through the last few appointments of the night to see if anyone cancelled.
“It was fine. Remind me to thank Helo again for his help in trig. My teacher said I’ve shown ‘great improvement’ or whatever the fuck that means,” Jaxon says, dropping onto the couch in the waiting area.
“Language, dude. Please.” I roll my eyes. Jaxon spent the majority of his formative years in a clubhouse full of bikers and the last few on the couch in this shop. I shouldn’t be surprised that he uses cuss words like adjectives.
“Sorry, Mama,” he says sheepishly, pulling out his sketchbook and charcoal pencils.
“Hey before you get too busy over there, Ev is working on a really badass back piece in his room back there. I bet he’d let you watch.
” I peer up at him over the top of my monitor and see the spark in his eyes.
My boy has a passion for art, and I’ve done everything I can to encourage him.
As much as I want him to pursue a future that will give him a better life than I ever had, I know how much his art means to him.
Just like I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s covered in ink.
In all honesty, I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened.
I’ve built a trusting relationship with my son, and I would hope he would just tell me before doing something like that.
But the mind of a seventeen-year-old boy is a strange place.
He jumps up without another word, disappearing down the hall just as Helo walks up front from the break room in the back.
Beckett “Helo” Hayes is six feet of delicious sophistication.
His facial features are sharp, with a strong jawline and deep-set eyes that add to his intense presence every time he enters a room.
His chocolate brown hair is always perfectly tousled, and his beard and mustache are always trimmed so neatly.
A thin scar runs from the bottom of his right eye down his cheek.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so rugged, yet so well put together, before meeting him.
If Tom Hardy had a twin, his name would be Helo.
How a man like that exists in this world, I’ll never know.
I try not to delve too much into his business, but I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him in a three-piece suit, and it should be illegal for a man to look that good.
His features are always hard, like he’s etched in stone, unless he’s looking at me.
It’s one thing to fantasize about the man, but it would be something else entirely to cross that line.
Unfortunately, I come with way too much baggage and strings attached to really be worth it for him. He just doesn’t know that.
But I’d be an idiot if I said I don’t see the way he looks at me.
Of course I do. Just the thought of the way he stares at me is so fucking dangerous.
What man offers to tutor a teenage boy in advanced trig just for fun?
He looks at me with a longing in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
Part of me feels guilty for taking the help he constantly offers.
But as many times as I’ve tried to turn his help away, he just keeps offering.
Even if I wanted to, I could never get involved with him.
What would a man like that want with a woman like me?
I’m not saying I’m ugly, but my hips have more sway than Spanish moss in the breeze.
Men like that don’t fall for women like me.
Besides, I’ve been beyond lucky to stay in one place as long as I have, but I still live with the constant feeling of dread that Cooper will find us.
I could never drag someone else into this mess more than I already have.
“Hey, Will. Busy night tonight?” Ember, Elijah’s wife, asks as she comes through the front door with a toddler on each hip.
I know how exhausting it was to go through the terrible twos, threes, and fours with Jaxon.
I can’t imagine what I would’ve done with twins.
Their daughter, Scarlett, makes a beeline straight to me as soon as her feet hit the floor.
I scoop her up, hugging her tightly to my chest. Most of my free time is spent wrangling the Harding twins to give their parents a break, but I’m always so happy to see them.
“It shouldn’t be too bad tonight. I’ll do my best to have your husband back to you before midnight,” I tell her, already seeing the relief on her face.
“You’re a lifesaver!” She says, setting her son down and sighing as he runs straight down the hall to his dad’s space.
The toddler squeals loudly enough for us to hear up here, and Elijah laughs just as loudly.
I smile, knowing these babies will grow up in such a loving home with two incredible parents.
As much as I wish I could’ve given that to Jaxon, I know I did what I had to do to keep us both safe.
The bell over the front door rings again, and Ember and I both watch as Helo holds the door open for a couple of college girls.
I swallow down the twinge of jealousy I feel when I see them blatantly check him out.
He’s not my man, and I have no right to be upset.
Anyone with eyes can see that man is incredible.
Ember quirks an eyebrow at me, and I plaster on a fake smile.
Our entire friend group knows we both toe the line of flirting and friendship, but I won’t cross it.
I can’t. She rolls her eyes with a smile, taking Scarlett from my arms and walking back to Elijah’s station.
“I’m gonna kiss my husband before we head home. Try to fix your RBF before they get to the counter, babe.” Ember jokes, and I scoff. She’s not wrong.
Plastering on my best fake smile, I greet the girls and get them checked in for their appointments. I’d have to be deaf not to overhear the things they’re whispering about Helo while I’m verifying their IDs.
“Just ask! You’re literally so hot, like how could he even resist?!” one girl whispers loudly to the other.
“I know, but look at him! He’s literally like out of GQ or something,” the other girl replies. I bite down on the side of my cheek until I taste blood.
They aren’t wrong. Beckett Hayes is definitely attractive enough to land the cover of GQ. His dreamy gaze is deep and mesmerizing enough to swallow me whole if I let it. But I can’t let it.
“If you guys have a seat, somebody will be out to get you in just a few minutes,” I say, but the girls ignore me.
They continue bickering back and forth about who’s gonna be the one to make the first move on Helo.
Their behavior makes my hackles rise. I’ve spent most of my life invisible unless Cooper needed a punching bag. I fucking despise being ignored.
Helo stands off to the side, probably waiting to talk to one of the guys, but definitely within earshot of everything the girls are saying.
I look up at him from under my lashes, and his eyes are burning a hole through me.
It’s equal parts lust and loathing when he looks at me like that.
He doesn’t realize the bullshit I bring to the table and the hardships I would bring into his life.
I’m doing him a fucking favor here. The girls continue giggling and whispering about him like we can’t all hear the shit they’re saying, and I reach my breaking point.
“ACTUALLY, he’s like, so celibate and totally married. Please go sit over there,” I say, mimicking their annoying bubbly voices much louder than I need to. I’m not even sorry.
Helo chokes down a laugh but doesn’t comment. Even if he wanted to, he knows better than to test my patience when it’s already paper thin.
“Did you need something, GQ?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
He holds up his hands in surrender with a gorgeous smirk on his face.
He’s sexy as fuck and he knows it, but he’s never the type to rub it in anyone’s face.
It’s his quiet confidence that draws me to him, despite the overwhelming scream in my mind to stay away.
“I was just looking for the quarterly statements. Elijah said he left them with you,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into the tiniest smile.
His hazel eyes hold mischief behind a serious expression.
I know he’s getting a kick out of the fact that my patience is wearing thin.
I could dissolve into the flecks of honey and gold that swirl through his irises, but I won’t.
I could reach out and glide my hands through his thick chocolate brown hair, but I could never.
I know he would let me. Hell, he’d welcome it.
I know he has feelings for me, but I won’t lead him on.
I won’t let him believe there can ever be more than a friendship here. The cost is just too high.
“Will? Did I lose you?” He asks, snapping my focus back to reality.
“Huh? Oh! Quarterly statements. Let me look,” I say, dropping down behind the counter to rifle through the papers there. Unfortunately, I have no idea what I'm actually looking for. “What do they look like?”
I stand up quickly, and I’m immediately engulfed in his clean, citrus scent. He’s made his way behind the counter, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body against my skin. It’s a heady feeling, being this close to him.
“Beckett,” I breathe, his name sounding like a whisper as it leaves my lips.
“I can check,” he says, his voice deep and soft.
My eyes close as I breathe him in, cursing my stupid, traitorous body for instantly reacting to him every damn time.
Somewhere in the far reaches of my mind, I see how my life would unfold if I gave in to all the things I feel for him. But we both know I can never do that.
I turn and walk away, leaving him to dig through the stacks of papers for himself.
Once I’m alone in the break room, I try to steady myself with a few deep breaths.
From the first day I met him, he’s always been willing to bend over backwards for me and for my son.
Even after I told him things would never go any further than friends, he remained the same.
He’s always present, always willing to help fix things around my house or tutor Jax in any subject he needs.
He is the kind of man I always wished for in a husband and father.
But we are not his responsibility. Someday maybe I’ll have the courage to tell him we can’t accept the help he so freely gives. As much as I appreciate him and wish I could return the effort, it’s safer for us all if I keep my distance.
It’s gonna be a long week.