Cassie isn’t as chatty as usual as we brace against the cold and walk to the donut shop. I think she feels she overstepped some boundary, so I try to distract her. I tell her about my family—the good parts, the parts where we went on vacation together to California when we were little and actually had fun, and about my brother Joel’s antics—and she starts to relax as we stand in line.
Unfortunately, now I’m the one tensing up. The memories bring a sting of pain to my chest. I used to like Joel back then. He was a menace, but he wasn’t trying to mold me into something I was not.
Those days are long past.
By the time we get our coffee and donuts, Cassie looks happier and is telling me about her dream to work with damaged pets. She wants to make a difference, and it reminds me again of my own puny attempts to right the world and of the people I lost. Those I wasn’t able to save.
“You okay?” Cassie frowns at me. She has powdered sugar on her top lip.
I smile and nod. “Yeah.”
“Love these donuts.” And as if to prove it, she stuffs her mouth with the rest, making me giggle. She jabs a finger at me. “You’re not eating.”
I hurry to rectify that mistake. After all, it buys me time to think—about the fight, the things my family keep pounding into me, my feeble attempts to help others.
Was it worth it? Does anything I do make a difference? I’ve never managed to save anyone. What if Dad is right? What if even Blake is right? I’m not Superman. Maybe buying a few homeless people lunch or giving them a blanket makes no difference in the end. Maybe it’s all for nothing.
“Hey.” Cassie nudges me with her elbow. “That guy’s staring at you. Do you know him?”
I look up, startled, half-eaten donut in my hand. Sure enough, he’s at his usual spot, his pale hair catching the light, and he seems to be staring our way.
“He’s not looking at me,” I say with conviction.
“Yes, he is. He’s been like that for a while.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe he’s looking at you.” Cassie is so pretty it’s no wonder. I bet even from a distance she has the guys falling like flies.
But this makes no sense. The guy was looking this way yesterday, too.
He’s still staring, his hands fisted at his sides. His whole being seems focused on us, and it makes me shiver. Then he spins on his heel and enters the tatt
oo shop, the door banging behind him. What the hell?
My mouth hangs slack. I turn to Cassie, and I find an amused expression on her face. “This has happened before, hasn’t it?” she mutters.
“What?”
“This guy. You were not surprised to see him.”
I stuff my face with the rest of my donut and chew as slowly as possible. I don’t know what to think. He may be crazy. He may be dangerous. Maybe I should stop coming here.
He may look an angel, but, as my experience with Blake has shown me, inside he may be rotten as hell.
Chapter Three
Micah
Dammit. I spent the whole night and morning psyching myself to go talk to her, to find out if it’s her, Ev, and she showed up with this blond chick. What do I do now?
I march back inside Damage Control and find Seth sweeping the floor, dark head bent over the chore. He has some Native American blood in him, just like his cousin, Shane, who’s also an apprentice here. His tattoos climb his neck, the most impressive one a snake—the design Zane inked on all of us strays, the ones he and Rafe took in. The Damage Boyz, as they call us.
Seth, Shane and Jesse don’t pay for their apprenticeship—of course not, none of us have any money to our names—but they clean the shop while learning the craft.
I step around Seth and into my booth. I sit on my stool and swivel around.
“Hey, Micah.” It’s Ocean, the other tattoo artist. I often wonder if he dyes his hair blue to match his name. “Going out for beers tonight at a new place nearby, Halo. Hear of it?”
I close my eyes and rub by face. “Nope. Look, I got work to do.” Bullshit, I’m still on a break, but so what.