Tattooed Troublemaker - Elise Faber Page 0,38

how many times I’d repeated the sentiment over the last year.

But this time, just like all the other times, I wasn’t sure it took.

“Enough,” I growled and yanked the covers up and over my head. I forced my eyes to close and sleep to take me back under. “No more Lorna. No more bullshit. Just keep your head down and keep moving forward.”

I glanced around, looking for the long brown tail of Charlie’s hair, listening for the banging of pipes coming from the hallway.

“She’s not here.”

Quickly, I jerked my head back, saw that Tig was staring down at me knowingly. “You didn’t stay away from her, did you? I told you—”

“Leave it, Tig.”

I was in full Lorna-hangover mode, and looking for Charlie was my Bloody Mary in the morning equivalent of a cure. I wanted to reassure myself that I wasn’t what Lorna said, that all the crap she’d been spouting was just that, crap. Sighing, I started searching through my drawers, pulling things out that I didn’t need for my client but would keep me busy anyway.

“She called in sick.”

My hands froze for a few seconds. “What?”

“You’re looking all guilty and forlorn,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re not the reason she’s out sick today.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s got Delia convinced because she refused a delivery of her favorite artisan grilled cheese—or whatever that was—but I know better. Something’s up, and it has your M.O. written all over it.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Except, it didn’t sound convincing, even to me.

I knew exactly why Charlie wasn’t here.

Me.

“Dude,” he said. “I think you forget that I saw you with your ex. That shit was fucked, you two were totally toxic—”

Outwardly, I’m sure my face was calm, but inside? Inside, my heart was sinking. Tig thought I was toxic. Fuck. Maybe I was. I certainly had fucked with Charlie. She’d called in sick to a job she enjoyed, for a person she valued as a close friend . . . because of me.

I’d pushed. I’d forced some sort of emotional connection with the physical.

And now I’d broken something in her.

I’d been like Lorna said, shoving, forcing my way forward, not giving a shit who I decimated along the way—

She came to you. She asked you to kiss her.

It didn’t matter. I should have known better. She’d been vulnerable, her past thrown in her face, and I’d known that I shouldn’t give in to my desires. It hadn’t been the right time . . . and now she was running from me, from her work, from her life.

Isn’t that what you’re doing?

“Shut up,” I muttered under my breath.

We’d slept together and yes, it had been fucking incredible, but it had also been too much for her. I’d known that, and I’d still gone there.

Selfish, again.

Toxic, again.

But instead of ruining my own life because I’d lost myself and was unwilling to see the truth, now I was threatening the livelihood of a woman I respected and cared for. A person who was the most intriguing mix of contradictions, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, who was funny and . . . wounded.

She’d shared her past.

And I’d trampled all over it, injected it with my particular form of venom.

Fuck.

My hands clenched into fists at my side.

“But man, Charlie—” Tig sighed. “She’s not like Lorna. She’s—”

“Special,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. It wasn’t a truth I didn’t already understand. “Yeah, I know.” A beat, Tig’s eyes still heavy on mine, and I gritted my teeth. “I’m reading you loud and clear. I’ll leave her alone. I’ll be moving on in a few weeks anyway.”

Tig froze, brows drawing together. “I thought you were considering staying on for a while.”

For what?

Yeah, I liked it in New York. Yes, the shop was really cool. But why was I here? To continue avoiding my life back home? To keep making Charlie uncomfortable and avoiding her life?

I wasn’t whole, so what business did I have messing up someone else’s life?

Especially someone like Charlie.

Who was special and sweet and fiery and beautiful—

And too good for me.

Look, I know it sounded like I had gone full pity mode, but I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. I’d gotten over that after things had gone south with Lorna. This was reality. I was broken. Charlie was broken. But I was also toxic, so this wasn’t some on-screen love story where the shattered pieces of two people could be brought together, fitting perfectly into all those