Page 65 of Midnight Ink

He nods. “I know, right. He was beyond talented.” Ian flips our hands over, showing me his wrist. “This was my first one.”

“Why an infinity symbol?”

“He said we met on the eighth. Our birthdays are on the eighth. It was destiny. He said he gave it to me so I wouldn’t forget him.” I watch him swallow then he surprises me with a laugh. “I said, ‘What makes you think I want to remember you?’ and he said, ‘If I have it my way, you’ll never forget me.’” He blows out a breath. “Fuck, he was right.”

“Is that why you go down to the cemetery on the eighth?”

He nods. “Yeah, we never spent them apart. Well, that’s not true. He missed one of them, and I gave him shit for it. He was so busy sometimes. Hyperfocused on achieving his dreams. He was working like crazy. That’s why I go on the eighths. Those are our days. Then he died on the eighth. A month to the day before our opening of the shop. We were supposed to open August eighth. He died on July eighth. I had to push back the opening, which you know.” He smiles sadly. Oh yeah, I remember that day, because Ian and I met on the eighth as well. A month after his shop opened. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Fate or coincidence I’m not sure. What I do know is that day changed my life.

“What was he like?”

Ian leans back, the sun shining down around us both. It’s a nice break from the gloomy weather that’s trapped us here. “Fucking brilliant and talented. He never let anyone tell him what to do or what he was capable of. The hardest worker I’ve ever met. He never saw limits, just challenges he needed to conquer.” He draws in a shaky breath. “Sometimes I wonder what he would have made of the shop had he lived. I know it would’ve been amazing. Flourishing. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.”

“He sounds incredible.”

“It was exhausting.” He laughs. “I miss him so much it feels physical.” He swallows thickly. “I’m so tired, Jules. So fucking tired,” he whispers.

I throw my arm around him, hugging him close to me, and before I know it he’s falling apart. I rub his arms and hold him while he comes undone. “I know you are.” I kiss the top of his head.

“I’m ashamed of how I act. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of feeling his absence in every breath I take. I miss him, but I know I can’t have him. No matter how miserable I make myself, it’ll never bring him back. But I don’t know how to get better.”

He pulls himself out of my arms and turns a little toward me, balancing on the edge of the dock.

“I’m sorry about how I’ve been since we got here. You’re doing your best and I’m not helping. I appreciate everything you do for me, I want you to know that.” He’s quiet for a moment and I’m too shocked by his honesty to speak. “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

I reach out and cup his face, feeling the way he leans into me. “I know.”

“Sometimes it feels like a betrayal when I’m happy. It makes me feel selfish.” He slips his fingers back into mine. “I want to get better. I want to start living again. But sometimes it feels like this is all I’ll ever feel. Jamie moved on. Anna moved on. Everyone is moving on and I’m stuck.” He looks at me again. “I don’t want to be stuck anymore.” His eyes drop to my lips. “And then that kiss . . . damn, Jules.”

I smile. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I want to do that again.”

I lick my lips. “Me too.”

His eyes flick to them then he leans in, softly pressing his lips against me. I feel like my chest is going to explode. His lips are so soft. His tongue swipes against mine, leading the way, and I deepen the kiss, needing more but trying not to get too greedy.

He pulls back to press tiny kisses along my mouth. “If we were going back to the inn, what would that look like?” Slowly, I pull back. “Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically?”

He nods.

“What would I want?”

He nods again.

He licks his lips. My eyes snap to the movement before climbing back up his face.

“I’d want you to touch me, and I’d want to touch you.”

We nearly trip running up the stairs to our room. It feels a bit cold in here, but I don’t have time to fully feel it before Ian’s lips are back on mine the second the door closes. I lift my arms and let him take my shirt off.

His eyes roam over my tattoos drinking them in. Most of mine are his work. We’ve had apprentices over the years who have done ones here and there, but most of them are his.

And I really want his lips on them.