Page 16 of Midnight Ink

I bark out a laugh. I mean it’s not funny, but Elijah’s acting like he’s telling me he has three months to live, not that he doesn’t want to hook up anymore.

It’s been a few weeks since I saw him last anyway. I don’t know if I’d call us friends. I mean, we’re friendly. Elijah’s a great guy, and I like hanging out with him beyond the sex.

With him it’s different than any other hookup I’ve had—we hang out after, get dinner or something, and watch TV or whatever. I love animated movies and he’s never made fun of me for that. Some guys I’ve been with think it’s childish, which I think is bullshit.

Maybe we are friends?

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine.” I don’t even think I’ll miss it. It was easy and kind of nice. I like him as a friend, but there’s nothing there beyond hot sex. “You still want me to finish your sleeve, right?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” He laughs. We’re in his truck now and he looks exhausted. The last few times we’ve hung out there’s been these shadows in his eyes that weren’t there when we first started this a year ago. I know he’s been going back and forth between his home, nearly an hour away, and his new job. “It’s nothing personal at all. You’re fucking incredible but I don’t know . . . something’s going on. I have no idea what.”

“Something or someone?”

Elijah’s dark eyes swing to me. “I’ll tell you when you tell me why you haven’t asked Ian out yet.”

“You know why, shut up.” I know Ian doesn’t think about me that way. Ian thinks about no one that way. I can’t speak to his grief, only to what I know, and what I know is that Ian loved Maddox maybe more than anyone has ever loved another person. “I don’t think he’ll ever move on.”

Elijah nods. “I know someone who was on call that night,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” He clears his throat. “And no, it’s nothing like that. Well, I don’t think so anyway. I don’t fucking know. It just doesn’t feel right hooking up while I figure it out,” he finally says.

“Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” I sigh. “Guess I’ll have to find someone else to suck my dick.” He slaps me as I laugh.

“Or . . .” Elijah’s red lips curve into a slow smile. “You could nut up and ask Ian.”

“And we’re done here. Fuck you very much.”

Not the image I need right now. Those are the types of images for my bedroom at night, stroking myself to the thought that maybe, just maybe, Ian could feel the same. Some people call them delusions. I like to think of them as spicy wishes.

Shifting in his truck, I have a thought to download an app and find someone new tonight. I have all this pent-up energy, and I’ll admit when I saw Elijah earlier I was looking forward to getting rid of it. “Do you want me to drop you off?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll walk.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Still coming Friday?”

“Yeah. Fuck, Julian, I mean it. None of this has anything to do with you. I like you a lot, I do. You’re amazing and you’re an incredible artist. I like that you’re nerdy and fun to hang around. It’s just me, this shit I’m dealing with right now.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

He’s quiet for a moment then shakes his head. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Well, I’m here. I know we’re not exactly friends but⁠—”

“We’re not?” He genuinely looks confused.

“I mean, are we?”

He shrugs. “I mean, maybe.” He laughs softly then leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips, then he pats my face. “I’ll see you Friday, alright?”

“Sounds good.” I open his door and get out. “And just because I’m not giving you a tip anymore doesn’t mean I don’t get a tip when I tattoo.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs and I shut the door.

I wonder if Ian’s still working. It’s nearly eight now and he shouldn’t be, but he’s been working all day, seven days a week, for so long I don’t know how he hasn’t crashed. We need new people in the shop. While a waitlist is amazing, ours is too long, and to make a dent in it he’s working himself to death.

Every time I bring it up, he shuts down. I don’t understand why. If it’s because of Maddox, I don’t know how to deal with that. I mean, I didn’t know the guy, but if my man was working himself like this, I’d demand he get help.

Ian can’t keep going like this.

I love Ian. I do. But he gets so focused on one thing he refuses to see anything else around him. Like solving a puzzle in a burning building. He doesn’t notice the fire around him; he just focuses on the problem, refusing to acknowledge the flames.

And right now, the shop is burning.