Broken hearts aren’t the worst thing in the world. Having a broken heart and getting a reminder of how broken it was daily? That fucking sucked.

I thought I could handle it. I didn’t think I would be so affected after all this time, but every day when his phone rang, I held my breath to see if he would say I love you before hanging up.

As much as it hurt me, I needed to get closer to him. I needed some sort of connection. I knew how bad of an idea that was. I didn’t need someone to tell me how idiotic I was being. I had already told myself. But a broken heart was the worst listener in the world, and all that bitch could see was him. She didn’t care about anything else. It is easy to swallow down the lies when your heart is hungry.

It had been three days since the incident with Brandon. I was so pissed off when he refused to allow Brandon to tattoo me. He acted like he was my father. He acted like he had some right to tell me what to do.

But as pissed as I was, the thought that kept running through my brain on repeat was that he cared. That little bloom of, I don’t know, hope maybe? Poison? Either way, it weaseled its way into my chest and sank its teeth into me. I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

I knew that it shouldn’t have mattered if he cared, but no matter how much I tried to lie to myself, it did.

Parker had just finished tattooing a portrait of a man’s daughter on his arm. It was beautiful, life-like, and so damn impressive. I knew from our past that he was talented. I had spent many hours sitting around watching him draw. But what he did now? It was beyond anything that I could imagine.

I looked at the clock. Four fifty-six. Fuck. My fingers tapped against the desk, and I tried to keep my foot from bouncing against my chair.

Parker walked out from his workspace. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, and it was unfair how damn hot he was. The crisp white of his shirt seemed to make the colors of his tattoos pop even more than normal, and his eyes. God. His eyes.

“Is my next appointment here yet?” He leaned against my desk, his arms crossed below him.

“Yep.” I avoided his eyes.

He turned his head to look out in the waiting room then looked back at me.

“Are they in the bathroom?” he asked curiously.

“Nope.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Want to clue me in?” He chuckled softly.

I set his drawing down in front of him. The one I loved. The one he refused to tattoo on anyone.

He looked down at the drawing, stared at it for a moment before his gaze returned to mine. He didn’t say anything. He just watched me. He watched me in a way that I knew he saw too much. He always had.

“I’ll make you a deal.” I put my face on my fist, leaning in for dramatic affect. “I’ll let you do my first tattoo if you do this.” I pointed down at the drawing that lay between us.

He continued to stare at me, but his gaze dropped from my eyes to my lips. My breath caught in my throat, and it seemed to snap him out of it.

“Deal.” He stood to his full height and held the drawing in his hand.

“Really?” I squeaked. I had expected him to put up at least a bit of a fight after the things Brandon and Staci had told me about the drawing.

“Yes, really. Now come on.” He started walking toward his workspace, and I hopped out of my chair to follow him.

I climbed into his chair while he started pulling things out of drawers and setting everything up. I didn’t know what half the crap was, but I trusted him. By the time he rolled his stool up next to me with black gloves covering his hands, the only thought that was crossing my mind was that he was about to touch me.

“Where are we doing it?” He held a stencil in his hand. The drawing ready to transfer to my skin.

“I was thinking over my ribs.” I pointed to the right side of my body.

“Bold choice. You know they are one of the most painful spots, right?”

“I can handle it.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Okay.” He grinned. “But I don’t want to hear any bitching.”

I smacked him on his arm, and he laughed softly before he started rolling up my shirt. The muscles of my stomach tightened under his touch. He leaned my chair back until I was completely stretched out in front of him. He finished rolling my shirt up and tucked it precariously under my bra.

Chill bumps covered my skin as he cleaned it with his damp paper towel. When his fingers pressed the stencil against my skin, I held my breath and tried not to squirm under his touch.

“Do you want to make sure it’s right?” he asked as he leaned back to look at the stencil. He examined it from several different angles, making sure it was perfect.

“No. I trust you.” I didn’t think about the words until after I said them, but I couldn’t take them back. I watched Parker swallow down my words, the movement of his throat mesmerizing.

“You ready?”

I looked up at him, his gun in his hand, and my heart in my throat. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Then the pain started. I tried to hold as still as I possibly could, but there were moments when Parker would push down on my hip to keep me in place. He wiped the ink from my skin, rubbed some sort of salve over the work he had already done, and then he continued working. He looked so serious as he concentrated on his gun against my skin. His brow was furrowed, and he constantly pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. I wanted his lips against mine, I wanted his teeth against my body, and I felt like I was about to lose my mind.

“Are you okay?” He ran his paper towel over my skin again, collecting the excess ink.

“Yeah. Why?” I ran my hand through my hair.

“Your stomach is trembling.” He was watching me, waiting for my response.

“Oh.” I tightened my stomach muscles. I hadn’t even realized it was happening.

“Why don’t we take a break?” He pulled his gloves off. “I’ve got the outline finished.”

“Can I look at it?” I leaned over trying to see my ribs, but Parker caught my chin in his hand, stopping me.

“Not happening.” We stared at each other, my face in his hand, my pulse racing. His eyes seemed glazed over as he looked at me, and when his thumb ran over my bottom lip softly, I knew we were in dangerous territory.

“Parker.” His name was a whisper on my lips, the taste of memories and pain and the desire for something I knew was wrong for me. Something that was wrong for both of us.

He pulled his thumb away from me, leaving a trail of fire and want behind. “I’m going to go get some fresh air.” He stood from his stool, the legs hitting the wall, before taking a deep breath and walking out.

I stood from my chair, careful not to touch my new tattoo, and I went to Staci’s room. She was lying back in her chair with a piece of paper over her face, and I couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not.

I pushed on her foot, and she slowly sat up, blinking.

“Were you napping?” I sat down on her stool.

“Me? Nope. Never. I would never nap at work.” She was grinning a shit-eating grin, and I came to realize that was her normal look.

“Uh huh.”

“Holy shit.” She sat up further in her chair.

“What?” I looked around the room, confused.

“He did it.” She pointed down at my tattoo. “He really fucking did it.”

I was worried that maybe he had tattooed something crazy on me instead of doing the drawing I asked for, but I still avoided looking down at it. Well, because he told me to.

“What did he do?” I asked hesitantly.

“Motherfucker.” She stood up and paced in her small space.

“What’s wrong?” I started to look down at the tattoo because you know, that shit is for life.

“He actually tattooed that drawing on you.” She pointed to my ribs again. “Do you know how many people he’s said no to?”

I shook my head, but she wasn’t finished.

“Me either because it’s more than I could count. I thought this was a sure thing. That asshole. Now I’m out a hundred dollars.”

“Umm, Staci. You’re confusing the hell out of me.”

“That tattoo. I made a bet with Brandon that Parker wouldn’t do it.” She narrowed her eyes on me. “Brandon must know something that I don’t know. Spill it.”

“Not here.” I looked out her door to see Parker coming back inside.

“Tonight.” She pointed at me. “We’re going out when he’s finished with you.”

She didn’t realize how much her words would affect me, but she also didn’t know that Parker had been finished with me long before tonight. If we were all going to work together, I might as well tell her. God knows that Parker had already told Brandon what went down between us.

“Deal.”

She grinned again as I walked out of her room and headed back to Parker.

“You ready to finish up?” I climbed back into his chair. He was sitting on his stool and his head was buried in his phone.

“Yea.”

He put his phone in his pocket. “This might be brutal though. The outline is already trying to heal and when I go over it with fresh ink, it might hurt like a bitch.”

“I can handle it.” But I wasn’t sure that I could because he was right. The first time hurt, but ripping open my wounds with fresh pain was likely to kill me.

“Okay. Let me know if he becomes too much.” He pressed his gun against my ribs again, this time the pain more intense than the last.