Neither can a handshake or some equally painful brush off.
Kay and I hug. Period. I need to find a way to be okay with that.
I step out from behind the counter.
She leans in to the gesture.
It's quick but tight.
And, fuck, I feel her everywhere.
I have to force myself to pull back. She's a kid. You're supposed to protect her. "You sleeping over tonight?"
; "Maybe. Em's trying to convince me to go out. But I think I'd rather crash at home." Her eyes go to the clock. "Shit. I gotta go. I'll see you soon."
I nod goodbye.
Watch her ass sway as she walks away.
This time next week, Kaylee is going to live in the room down the hall.
I'm going to have to resist her twenty-four seven.
Will power isn't gonna cut it.
I need something a hell of a lot stronger.
* * *
My twelve o'clock is sitting in the teal chair, her face pressed against the wall, her tongue between her teeth.
She squints.
Bites her tongue.
Squeezes her thigh with her free hand.
Her gaze goes to the mirror. She watches me work.
At first, it bothered me. But I'm used to it now.
Clients love watching ink mark their skin.
I can't blame them.
I love it too.
And this girl—she's barely older than Kaylee—is a trooper. It's nearly two now, and she hasn't asked for a single break.
I check in. "You okay?"
She murmurs something. When I arch a brow, she nods.
"This is the last line."
"Thank fuck," she whispers.