Chapter 6
NOVA
Lawson doesn’t call me that night. Once I get home, I spend a half hour listening to my mother go on and on about the wellness community she’s currently staying with in Costa Rica—so much for the alpaca farm.
She doesn’t ask me any questions beyond a few basics before diving right into a story about the friends she’s working with and the man she met there.
The man she followed there. I have a hard time keeping the many loves of her life straight, but I’m pretty sure the alpaca farm boyfriend’s name was Billy, not the Jupiter guy she’s currently gushing over.
Then, after talking at me for almost thirty minutes straight, she’s interrupted by a male voice in the background.
She giggles and I sigh, knowing what’s coming.
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry, but I have to go.
We’re going zip lining in the jungle. Can you believe it?
Anyhow, I’ll call soon, okay? I miss you, my sweet girl! ”
“Miss you too, Mom,” I say, too tired to bother saying more. She’s already hanging up anyhow.
“At least I know what country she’s in,” I mutter to myself, as I toss my phone onto the coffee table and settle back into the threadbare love seat—the only two pieces of furniture in my miniature living room.
Most of my conversations with my mother go exactly like that—when she bothers to call at all.
More often than not weeks and months will pass with no communication from her.
It used to bother me, of course. Not knowing where she was, if she was safe.
If I’d ever see her again. But I’m used to it now. This is simply how she is.
Still, I’m pretty annoyed I gave up the chance to go out to eat with Lawson for that. If I’d told her that I was with a man and would call her later, she would have been thrilled—she’s always telling me I need to date more. But I couldn’t take the chance she’d call Victor next and let it slip.
I don’t want my uncle to know about Lawson. I don’t want him to know anything about my life.
I force myself to stop thinking about my messy family and focus on what just happened—a gorgeous stranger making me come harder than I ever had in my life in a hot air balloon at the county fair.
I snort a laugh, covering my face. I can’t believe I did that.
Or how good it was. Or how eager I am to do it again.
When the evening passes without a word from him, I tell myself it’s no big deal.
He hadn’t said he’d call tonight, just that he’d use my number.
He also said he’d come into the tattoo parlor.
I go to bed feeling excited about the prospect of possibly seeing him the next day, and reliving every moment of the way he made me feel tonight.
But he doesn’t come in the next day, or the day after that. And he doesn’t call either. After an entire week has passed without a word from him, I’m forced to accept the truth—Lawson Barlowe isn’t actually into me.
And that’s fine. Really. I wasn’t lying when I told Linc that I didn’t intend to get involved with anyone. I have a plan to get out of town, and I wouldn’t let some guy get in the way of that.
Not even someone who can make me feel the way Lawson did.
It was just a hook-up, I tell myself for the hundredth time as I head into work on Monday morning, nine whole days after the fair. Nine whole days without a word from Lawson Barlowe.
So why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why has there been a low-level ache in my chest since the fair? Why do I feel so damn disappointed?
I’m standing on the sidewalk outside of the shop, searching my bag for the keys, when a hand wraps around my wrist, making my breath catch in my throat. I don’t need to look up to know who’s touching me—the snake tattoo on his hand tells me everything.
“Vic,” I say in an even voice, not wanting him to know that he has any effect on me. “This is a surprise.”
I look up into a narrow, familiar face. My uncle’s lip curls. “Notice you didn’t say a pleasant surprise.”
I refuse to take the bait. “What are you doing here so early on a Monday morning?”
Vic releases my wrist but his sharp eyes stay on my face, studying me in that way that always gave me the chills. Sometimes I swear my uncle can read my thoughts.
“Just wondering when you might come to the house for dinner,” he says carefully. “I’ve missed seeing you.”
My spine straightens, stupid fear cascading into my chest. Victor King has never missed me a day in his life. If he wants me to come to the house, his reasons can’t be good.
“I’ve been pretty busy with work,” I tell him, gesturing to the tattoo parlor. I refuse to let him inside—he doesn’t get to pollute my place of employment.
He leans in and I force myself not to shiver. “You know, you wouldn’t have to put in such long hours at this place if you came back to work for me.”
And there it is. The thing he’s always hinting at, the reason I’m so desperate to leave town. I refuse to ever do another thing for my uncle’s so-called business. And I need to get out of North Carolina before he realizes I won’t change my mind.
“I like tattooing,” I tell him, trying to make my voice sound cheery. Letting this man see my fear is a mistake I long-since learned to avoid. “It lets me be artistic. Like mom, you know?”
His eyes flash at the mention of my mother—his sister. I’m pretty sure she’s the only person on this earth he’s ever cared about. That’s the sole reason why he agreed to take me in when she decided to leave the country with Garrett, her second husband, when I was fourteen.
It’s not like she stayed still before him. We were constantly on the move, following the fair circuit most summers or working at various weird hippie compounds, depending on what she was in the mood for. I didn’t realize how strange it was not to have a hometown until I got older.
But Garrett didn’t want to drag a teenager to Istanbul with him. And since there was no way my mom was going to risk losing him—even for her only daughter—she convinced Vic to let me stay with him in Mount Casper.
I try to be understanding of my mother. She has a free spirit, an artist’s heart. That makes her very easy to love, most of the time. She’s also flakey and disorganized. Unable to stay still. Not to mention the untreated mental illnesses that complicated so much of her—and my—life.
But when I think about her leaving me here, with him, knowing who and what he is…those days it’s very hard not to hate my mother with every fiber of my being.
My uncle is watching me, eyes narrowed. I’m sure it took him about two seconds to figure out why I would mention her. As if reminding him of the sister he cares about (I refuse to say love—this man is not capable of it) would get him to back off.
It’s never worked in the past, and I don’t expect it to work now. Still, I only need to buy some time. Once I’m free of this place, I won’t have to play these silly games with him anymore. The ones where we dance around the truth and neither of us admits to anything out loud.
He’s still watching me. “You’re not like your mother at all,” he says, voice silky. For some reason, it doesn’t sound much like a criticism. If anything, he almost sounds impressed. “No,” he continues, eyes narrowing on my face. “You’re far more clever than that woman ever was.”
I don’t like him complimenting me. Don’t like him thinking of me as intelligent—or anything else that he might consider an asset to his business. I need him to leave me alone, not find things to be impressed by.
“Nova!” a familiar voice calls from down the block, and I nearly collapse against the building in relief. Linc.
Thank fuck.
“I got you an oat milk latte, girl,” my boss says, striding up to us. He raises an eyebrow at my uncle. “Can I help you with something, Mr. King?”
“Not at all,” Vic replies in that smooth voice I hate so much.
“I was just chatting with my niece.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead and it’s all I can do not to shudder at the proximity, the familiar acrid scent of stale cigarette smoke invading my nose.
“Be a good girl, Nova. We’ll talk soon.”
My entire body relaxes when he finally walks away and I lean against the brick facade of the tattoo shop so my legs don’t give out. “My knight in shining armor,” I mutter to my boss.
It’s not that Uncle Vic is afraid of Linc. I’m pretty sure he’s not afraid of anything or anyone. But he likes to keep his business private. The man is as paranoid as he is heartless, and I know he wouldn’t risk tipping off an outsider just to keep needling me.
“I’ll be your hero any day of the week,” Linc says, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Just don’t tell Jim, yeah?”
I smirk at him, some of the feeling coming back into my limbs now that Victor is gone. “I guarantee your husband would not give a shit if he found out you were playing hero to me. He knows you’re completely obsessed with him.”
Linc sighs. “Of course I am. That man is as fine as he was the day we met.” He gives my shoulder a little shake. “You got your keys or you want to take these coffees so I can get to mine?”
I dig my set of keys from my bag and unlock the door. Linc sets our coffees on the front counter then goes about turning on the lights and getting the music going.
I power on the front desk computer and take a sip of my coffee while I wait for the scheduling software to load.
My hands are shaking a little bit, but I try to ignore it.
I don’t need to spend my whole day thinking about the encounter with Victor.
I need to focus on my work, get my tips, and get my bank account healthy enough to leave.
Unfortunately, my schedule is looking pretty slow. I frown down at the calendar on the computer. Monday mornings are usually like this. I cross my fingers that I might get some walk-ins before heading back to get my station ready for my eleven o’clock.
I do end up with a walk-in but not until I’m nearly at the end of my shift—and it’s not someone I particularly want to see.