Wallflower Ink

Chapter 9

· Merri ·

When I arrive home that afternoon--with a trunk load of groceries, a pocket full of cash, and a plate of homemade cookies--I pull into the drive behind an unfamiliar SUV. It is black, with a suspension kit, large mud tires, and a winch attached to the front bumper. The windows are lightly tinted, their smoky hue guarding the interior from the unforgiving late July heat.

From what I can tell, it's far from new. It is rugged, durable and muscular, with a defined purpose. Despite the dents and scratches time eventually provides to all older vehicles, it is obviously well cared for.

This must be Jace's 'car', I think and allow myself an amused smile. It suits him. I laugh lightly then shake my head. I would have expected nothing less from my unlikely roommate.

Picking up the plate of cookies from the passenger seat, I open my door and get out. I cross the yard quickly, climb the stairs, then slip inside the house.

The living room is empty but for Jace's things, now fully unpacked and organized throughout the room and around the massage table in its center. A nervous thrill works itself through me as I eye the table, the tall floor lamp beside it, and the silver table next to them. It reminds me of the rolling tray in the dentist's office, where he lays out all the drill parts before working on someone's teeth. I shudder at the likelihood that the pain will not be so much different.

This is where Jace will lay out the instruments of his own trade; his ink, the needles, and all the other things I can't quite fathom. But Jace himself is nowhere to be seen.

I frown and refrain from calling out to him. After how I treated him last night, I'm surprised he came back after Kyle had come for him. If I had been in his place, I probably would have asked the other man to just help me pack up everything they had brought previously, right down to the graphite pencils still laying on his table.

I hadn't come off as the most friendly person the night before, and I marvel that he'd taken my mood change as well as he had. I frown at that. He seems to be an exceptional person really. No questions, no qualms, just a willingness to keep a promise he'd made to a total stranger.

Is it the money that kept him here? I know about his loans, exactly how in debt he is, so I suppose it could be that, if nothing else. But for some reason, I feel it is more. He stands to make a decent profit from the work he'll soon be doing on me, but the way he'd looked at me in O'Claire's on Saturday spoke of something more--it spoke of an empathy far deeper than he had any obligation to feel.

And what had I done to repay him? Turned into an ice queen in the face of the warm conversation he had offered me.

I let out a ragged breath, angry with myself. What would it hurt to open up to him, at least a little? It's not as if he'd asked me anything too personal, just regular small talk to ease the tension between us. Wouldn't it be more prudent to make him feel welcome in my home, since it was me who had made the demand in the first place? So far as the awkwardness that has fallen between us is concerned, I am the one who had initiated that.

I think about all the events of the day before--the spider, the humiliating introduction to Jace's friend, Kyle, how rude I'd been last night--and I cringe in disgust. When did I become this cretin that repaid common kindness with such cold indifference?

I sigh then move my free hand to rub my eyes roughly. Clearly I need to step away from myself, gather my emotions then sort them out until they aren't such a jumbled mess. But before I do that, I need first to apologize to Jace. He hadn't signed up for the bipolar treatment I've been displaying, and I can only imagine what is going through his mind.