Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,11

anything, Rhys.”

“I know.”

Two-word sentences. His forte.

“Have a nice life, Rhys.”

“You too.”

Fuck! I grab the door handle, so pissed-off I want to take it out on someone. I want to slap the shit out of him and shake him. Beg him to wake the hell up from his daze. I want to scream at him. Make him listen. But I can’t touch Rhys.

Not physically and not in any other fucking way.

I thought I was hard to love, but Rhys is stone.

I live in St. Louis now. This is fucking weird. Quinn and Logan are in Tennessee, living their own lives with new friends. Logan has a few guys who work for him at his shop. Sean is in New York with Melody, a spoiled little rich girl. I can’t fucking believe he landed one of those. I think that was always his dream, although I've never understood it. And I’m here. I thought I’d stay in Kansas City forever. Hell, I thought we all would. But the shop Chris bought isn’t bad. Not bad at all, really.

It’s located downtown and is a little hole-in-the-wall, nearly mirroring the shop in Kansas City. It will just be me for now. I’m not looking to hire anytime soon. Or maybe ever.

I like the quiet.

I’ve only been here for a day, but I’ve started to clean up the place. It needs work. A lot of work. The place is fucking rough. Even the front glass doors were broken, shards of glass spread out all over the place when I got here. I know Chris could have afforded a place that was already finished, all sparkly and shit, but he knows me better than that.

I appreciate this more. Actually having to work for it. At least when it’s all said and done, I might feel like I earned it and a little less like this was charity. I can’t stand anyone’s pity.

He budgeted for repairs though, the fucker, and even though I have some money saved, he made me use it for supplies. So I ordered everything I’d need. Bought paint and materials to redo the floor because it was shit.

I’ll have clients before I know it because Chris has a solid reputation, and for whatever reason he’s willing to put that on the line for me. And there is no way in hell I’ll let him down.

As I sand down the marred parts on the wall and apply putty, I think about Blair and yesterday in the bathroom stall. You would think fucking in a bathroom would feel dirty, but not at the country club. That bathroom is cleaner than any I've ever been in.

She could be in St. Louis by now for all I know. I didn’t ask her any questions. I already knew she’s moving here. I never ask questions. I let people tell me whatever they want me to hear. It works out better that way.

I’ve found most people want to talk. But Blair is fucking stubborn.

She was pissed. I know she wanted me to say so much to her, but I can’t. Or maybe I won’t. I don’t know.

She seems to think it’s the latter. That I just don’t want to talk about anything real. Not even to her. Like she’s something special.

She seemed so safe at first, but then, it finally became clear she’s far more dangerous to me than anyone else.

Two years ago

It’s been a month since I fucked Blair in my apartment above the tattoo shop, and I’m still stunned it happened. That my dick was hard and stayed hard the entire time. Hell, it stayed hard even after she left.

No alcohol needed.

Just her.

It’s really fucking crazy. I’ve been staying clean. Going to meetings.

But as if she already knew, she comes in through the front door of the shop with that fucking smirk on her pale pink lips. I’ve been having new cravings.

I stand up, not letting Jay get to her first, not giving him a chance to let me know she’s here in his own clever little way that I won’t find funny.

I stand inches from her, out of anyone’s listening range because of the music playing in the shop and the sounds of the tattoo guns. “What are you doing here?”

My tone comes out almost playful. At least for me. “I need a tattoo. Know anyone who can do that for me?” Her eyebrow lifts, and I swear everything this girl says drips with sex.

“You don’t have to get a tattoo every time you want me