This is taking every ounce of my concentration.

It's a simple tattoo. Black line art. Three colors. No shading.

Fuck, it's like I'm apprenticing again.

I pull back to check on my client. Allison. She's a tall girl with short hair and a quiet smile. Her boyfriend is sitting opposite her, holding her hand, whispering words of comfort.

"You okay?" Sweat is gathering on my brow. It's not the heat. The air conditioning's hum is competing with the buzz of Walker's gun.

It's the devil on my shoulder, telling me I fucked up.

And the angel arguing that this is for the best, no matter how badly it hurts right now.

Allison grunts a yes.

Her boyfriend smiles at her. Squeezes her hand. "It looks awesome."

"Yeah?" She turns toward the mirror to catch a glimpse of the ink forming on her shoulder blade. It's two dinosaurs facing each other with a heart between them. She must be able to see because her eyes light up. "That's perfect." She looks to me. "How much longer?"

"Ten minutes." It's a small piece and we're halfway there.

She nods. "Ten minutes. I can do that." She lies back down. Rests her head on her hands. "Do you get a lot of people saying it doesn't hurt?"

All the time. "Mostly guys."

"They think it makes them tough?" she asks.

"Yeah." I check the work. The green dino is done. Now it's the pink one and the red heart between them. "You know men."

She looks to her boyfriend with a smile. "I do."

"Hey." He folds his arms. Throws her a look of faux irritation. "I told you it would hurt like a bitch."

"Stay still." My voice drops to that demanding tone. Damn. I don't have enough focus to keep shit professional.

She doesn't notice. She's too busy smiling at her boyfriend.

"You ready?" I hold her back in place with my free hand.

"Ready," she says.

I get to work on the pink dinosaur. She lies there, squeezing her boyfriend's hand as he distracts her with conversation about their upcoming vacation.

Usually, I love it when the boyfriend comes. Wife, daughter, mom, best friend, coworker—it doesn't matter. Talking keeps people distracted from the pain. If they're here alone, that's my job.

I should appreciate it more right now—I don't have a shred of comfort in me.

But, fuck, I hate seeing them happy.

I hate the way they're smiling at each other.

I hate that the sun is shining.

I hate the music flowing from our speakers.

I hate that Kay is hurting alone.

It only takes eight minutes to finish. I clean and bandage her, go through my aftercare routine, take her to the register.

She throws her arms around me. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

The boyfriend shoots me a friendly nod. "Thanks for taking care of her." He offers his hand.

I shake. "Just doing my job." I motion to Leighton, standing behind the counter. "Will you get them some A+D ointment?"

"Sure. But you should—" She motions to Walker, leaning against the wall, staring at me like he's thinking about how he's gonna deck me.

On anyone else, that expression would be you're mildly annoying. But Walker never shows that he's pissed. Or hurt. Or annoyed even.

That look might be I'm gonna kill you.

He waits until the clients are out the door to approach me.

His eyes narrow.

His voice drops to a threatening tone. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"A lot. You need to be more specific," I say.

Leighton clears her throat. "We have customers."

Walker shakes his head I don't care. "What the fuck is this?" He shows off his cell. With a text from Emma.

Emma: Kaylee said Brendon ended things.

"And?" I press my lips together. I'm not defending my decision to him. Or to anyone.

"What the fuck, Brendon?"

"Not a question."

"Is Em talking to Kay now?"

"No. Just fielding texts. She said she sent something to you. But you know that."

Fuck. My stomach drops. "No. My phone is charging in the office."

Leighton clears her throat. Nods to the short guy waiting in the lobby.

Walker ignores her. Continues staring at me like I'm the devil.

He's probably right.

But I'm finally fixing that.

"That's not an explanation." He stares back at me. "I'm not going to watch while you throw away the only person who makes you happy."

Leighton joins his glaring. "You really dumped her?"

"Yeah. And I don't see how it's your business," I say.

"You're my friend, you idiot. And she is too." She runs a hand through her short hair. "I don't get it. You pine for her for months. She follows you around like a lovesick puppy. You finally have her, and you're both happy. Then, what, you dump her because you're bored of her?"

"No." It's not even close to that.

"What reason could you possibly have for leaving Kay?" Leighton asks. "You're worse than my ex."

"No arguments there." I have no idea what Leighton's ex did to hurt her, but right now I feel like the scum of the Earth. Fuck, the way Kaylee stared at me like I tore her heart out.

"What the fuck, Brendon? Are you going to explain?" Walker asks.

"How many times are you going to ask the same question?" This isn't what I want. It's how things have to be.

"Until I get a straight answer." He shakes his head. "Why would you break up with Kaylee?"

"She shouldn't be with someone like me," I say.

"What the hell does that mean?" Leighton asks.

"God. Still with this shit? Get the fuck over yourself." Walker's voice gets angry. "Do you treat her well?"

"Of course," I say.

"You make her smile?" he asks.

"Yeah. And?" I fold my arms.

"You support her?" he asks.

"I try." I do.

"You listen when she needs that?" he asks.

"You make her come?" Leighton jumps in.

"Of course. That's a stupid fucking question," I say.

"You're a stupid fucking idiot." She slams the table. "You make her laugh. You make her feel safe. You make her come. Explain to me how she shouldn't be around you."

I... I can't.

"She lights up like a pinball machine when you're around," Walker says. "She loves you. You love her. The two of you are a million fucking times more pleasant when you're around each other. Whatever bullshit you're selling about her being better off without you—nobody is buying it but you."