Page 99 of Ink & Desire

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, making something in my chest clench almost painfully.

“I’m the same person I was before tonight,” I say.

“That’s true,” he says, taking my hand in both of his, holding tightly as he looks in my eyes. “I was wrong about so many things when it came to us. I’m hoping you’ll let me find a way to fix it. I’m sorry I interrupted your night.”

Abruptly, Corbin releases my hand and strides away, leaving me standing there stunned speechless as I watch him go. It takes me a few seconds to realize there’s something in my hand. A folded piece of paper. He must have pressed it into my hand when he was gripping it so tightly. I hadn’t even noticed. Slowly, I tear my gaze away from the spot where he disappeared into the crowd when I realize he’s not going to reappear. Looking down at the paper in my hand, I can see that it’s heavily creased as if it’s been unfolded and refolded many times. It’s not until the entire paper is unfolded and I see the familiar lines of my own work that I realize it’s one of my sketches.

It’s just a doodle, really. I try to remember when I might have drawn it, but there’s just a vague memory of those early days of working in the shop. There had been some down time and Jessie teased Corbin about something, making him laugh. It was the first time I’d seen him relaxed and the first time he’d laughed around me. I wanted to capture that laugh and hold onto it for all the times when he was serious or scowling. It was like a piece of tangible proof that Corbin was more than the unyielding man he showed the rest of the world.

So, I grabbed the nearest pen and a piece of paper and started sketching Corbin's smiling face. No one paid me any attention as I’d worked. It only took me a few minutes to draw the rough sketch. It wasn’t even my best work, honestly. When I finished, I was embarrassed and afraid someone would see it and read more into the drawing than it meant. So, I hid it under my sketchbook, intending to toss it into the trash later when no one was looking. But Corbin must have seen it. He must have kept it. Why? Why did he keep it for all these months? That was back when he was still barely speaking to me. Before that night in the studio when he’d lost control. Why does he still have it? And why did he come all the way here tonight to give it to me?

“What is it?” Cass asks. I’d almost forgotten she was here.

I hand her the paper. “One of my drawings,” I say. “He keptit.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

I fight back the tears that threaten, feeling suddenly drained. I want to leave. I want to chase after Corbin and demand he tell me what this means. But then I remember all the times he shut down or pushed me away whenever things got remotely serious. All the times he snarled at me for asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer. All the little ways he showed me that I was wrong about what we could be. I don’t want to go through that again tonight. I don’t think I have the strength to face that rejection again right now.

Chapter 40

Corbin

I don’t know which is crazier: flying to New York to crash a formal party I wasn’t invited to, or trying to sneak into the home of one of the richest women in New York. After I gave Avery the drawing I’ve kept in my wallet all this time, I knew I needed to do something more to convince her to give me another chance. And I realized that the gala was the wrong place to force the kind of conversation we need to have. Askingher to meet me afterward was a possibility, but with Cass standing guard, I didn’t like my chances. I’m surprised she let me talk to Avery at all. Not that I blame her for protecting her friend from the person who hurt her.

After I left Avery, I went to find Henley and told her I was leaving. She offered to go with me, but I wanted to be alone. I took a taxi back to the hotel, but I end up pacing the room, staring at my phone willing it to ring. After nearly an hour, I’m forced to admit that Avery isn’t going to call. She’s not going to text. She’s probably not going to come back to work next week. The thought of not seeing her every day makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I can’t let it end like this. I can’t let her go without telling her what she means to me. She might still decide to leave, but I can’t let her go without trying everything. Which is why I find myself sneaking onto her family’s property in the middle of the night. I’d tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. She also didn’t respond to the 7 texts I sent. Not that I blame her. I fucked up. A call or a text isn’t going to fix this. I need to get her alone and talk to her. I need time to tell her what she means to me. I need her to know how much I need her. Hence the sneaking.

It turns out I’m not so good at sneaking. At least not when there are motion-detection lights, neighbors with nosy dogs, and one very diligent security guard. It’s the last one that ends up being my downfall. I’d made it past the main gate into the secure neighborhood where Avery’s mom lives without an issue. I’d even managed to make it over the fence at the corner of her property. Itwasn’t until I’d tried to sneak up to the back patio door that the security lights had been triggered. I’d tried to duck back into the trees along the fence line, only to have a spotlight nearly burn my retinas out of my skull.

“Freeze!”

The shout had been accompanied by a clicking sound that I was convinced might be the last sound I ever heard. I threw my hands into the air and went still. And that’s how I found myself in the backseat of a security guard’s car.

“Can you please call the Bradshaws?” I beg the stoic man from the backseat of his Prius. “Avery Bradshaw Scott is expecting me.”

It’s a lie, but he doesn’t know that. I’m just hoping that Avery isn’t angry enough with me to let this mall cop on a power trip send me to jail. I’m glad I didn’t take the time to change out of my tuxedo before coming here tonight. It lends some truth to my story. I at least look the part, even if my behavior was questionable. Granted, I don’t think my tattoos and beard are helping my case.

“The Bradshaws didn’t add anyone to their visitor log for this weekend,” the man says, clearly dismissing me.

“Avery and I were supposed to arrive together, but I missed my flight. She just forgot to add me to the log. Can you please just call the Bradshaw residence?”

I try to add an air of impatience and arrogance to my tone, hoping I sound like a rich asshole.

“They won’t be happy you detained me,” I say. “You’ll be out of a job by morning.”

I feel like an asshole, but I’m hoping that something gets through to the man. Maybe he’ll call Avery before he calls the police. I really don’t want to spend the night in jail. I know Henley will bail me out, but I’ll never hear the end of it.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter. “I hope you like unemployment.”

Finally, the man sighs and picks up his radio. “Dispatch, this is 2103. Can you call the Bradshaw residence and verify a visitor?”

“2103, this is dispatch. There are no visitors logged for the Bradshaw residence.”

He shakes his head. “Affirmative, Dispatch. Please call to verify an unregistered visitor.”