Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,80

out.

“Hey!” Reagan protested, but I ignored him. The bridge between me and Reagan and Get Ink’d was on fire and I felt pretty fucking apathetic about trying to put it out. “What the fuck is going on here?”

I was halfway through the front door when Reagan called out to me again. But you know what? If he was going to see me as an immature kid who didn’t fit into his fancy new life no matter what I did, then I was going to act like one.

“Fuck you, Boss,” I called out, throwing him a middle finger to boost.

Then I was in my car and speeding home. My cheeks were wet and my throat burned with trying to keep the sobs under control. All I’d ever wanted—everything that had been just within reach—had just blown up in my face and it wasn’t even my fault. Well, at least not all my fault. I’d tried so fucking hard to prove myself to him, but now I saw that it wasn’t just an age gap.

We were in such different stages of life that no matter what he said, Reagan was always going to view me as a kid. And it was never going to work. He’d tried to tell me that with his rejection all that time ago.

I should have listened.

21

Reagan

What the hell had Channing been thinking? Hearing the vile things he’d spewed at Ian had shown that he was what… jealous? Fucking Christ, being uncomfortable and feeling out of place at a gallery opening was one thing—but attacking someone in my place of business because he was...what, jealous? That was just a step too far. Boyfriend or no, I couldn’t accept that

“Ian, I’m so sorry—” I started walking toward my old professor. I would get him in the office, apologize again, except fuck, my mind could only focus on Channing—

Dane was practically snarling at Ian, and I moved quickly between the two of them. I needed to stop this animosity now, before this situation could get any worse. “Dane, back the fuck off.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He whirled on me, coming to meet me chest to chest in a flash. He’d never fully lost that violent instinct that had been drilled into him, the need to lash out before someone else hurt him. It had been under control for years, but whatever had happened out here had pushed him too far. My stomach clenched and I braced myself.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Reagan?” he yelled.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to stay calm. “Nope. It was totally inappropriate for Channing to speak to Ian like that.”

Something akin to repulsion skirted over Dane’s features. “Are you going to get on the old man’s case about what he said to Channing? Your friend over there sauntered in here and proceeded to taunt Channing, to belittle him, and to threaten him. My boy Channing was a goddamn champ for only saying that shit instead of punching him in the face.”

As this settled in like frost in the fall, chilling me, Dane continued, “How the hell could you take this prick’s side over Channing’s? You tell us all the time that we’re family here. That family is everything and we should always put each other first. You know Channing and you know goddamned well he wouldn’t have gone off like that if he hadn’t been provoked. When has he ever been anything less than completely professional to our clients?”

The way Dane was glaring at me now had me feeling about two inches tall but I wasn’t ready to back down. The need to prove to everyone that I was in control of the situation overwhelmed my good sense. “You need to take a breather, Dane.”

Dane’s laugh was like shards of glass slicing into me. “Sure thing. Bryan, will you call and reschedule my appointments for tomorrow? I need to be there for my brother since his boyfriend apparently can’t be.”

His eyes never left mine, daring me to argue with him, and I knew that if I said anything now, it would come to physical blows. Dane had never threatened me with violence in any way before. And we’d been through some shit together.

Bewildered and hurt, I watched him storm from the shop, suddenly very grateful we were on a filming hiatus. This was a clusterfuck enough without it being immortalized on camera.

A slow clap jerked my attention to Ian, who was standing there, lips pursed in disgusted amusement. “Wow, Reagan. This