Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Heading out the door, my gaze shifts toward Alex’s. He usually makes an effort to come out and say hi when he hears me walking out, but knowing that my station at work is going to be a mess and I’ll need the extra time to go over my schedule and fit in some of Crew’s more important clients, I’m leaving a little early today. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alex was still out in the streets, working out and putting on a dazzling show for the women of Brooklyn.
He’s been giving me space over the past week, trying not to crowd me as I grieve for my lost friend, but for the most part, he can’t resist checking on me at least twice a day. He hasn’t kissed me again, and while I desperately crave to find out what else Alex has been holding back, I also respect his self-control.
I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to start something new, and as if sensing that, Alex has backed off, just doing what he can to offer me comfort when I need it. But that doesn’t mean he’s dared to move the mistletoe monster cock. That’s still hanging proudly above my door like some kind of trophy. Not gonna lie, I kind of wish I had gotten the chance to clean it before he went and stuck it up there, but it is what it is, and I’m just going to have to learn to live with it.
The walk to work goes by all too quickly, and before I know it, I’m standing outside High Voltage Ink, holding my breath. I’m worried that walking inside those doors will send me into a tailspin, but seeing Big Jim through the windows all alone, I suck it up and push through the door.
Jim’s head lifts as he hears the chime above the door, and he stretches a forced smile across his face. “Hey, Ky. How’re you doing?” he says, stepping out from his station and opening his arms just in time for me to step right into them.
I shrug my shoulders, not really sure how to respond. “I’m . . . I don’t know. Fine, I guess.”
“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard,” he mutters as my gaze slowly moves around the room, expecting to see little drops of blood that have accidentally been forgotten. “How are you really doing?”
I swallow hard, pulling out of his arms and moving to my station before dumping my bag onto my chair. “I just . . . I don’t know how to feel. I have so much guilt for being this angry with him, and it’s so selfish. I should be focusing on how much I miss him, and I do miss him. I miss him so much. Since the day I met him, I haven’t gone a week without hearing from him or getting some ridiculous text, and yet every time I think about him, all I can remember is the way his fist felt cracking against my jaw.”
“You’re only human, Ky,” he tells me. “It’s not selfish, and you sure as fuck shouldn’t feel guilty about it. You did nothing wrong, and no one’s going to hold it against you for being angry. You have every right to feel that way. Crew was one of your closest friends, and he hurt you. Whether we lost him or not, it was still going to take some time for you to be able to move on and learn to trust him again. Hell, even if you decided to never trust him again, that’s okay. That’s your decision. But don’t feel guilty for having a human response. You can love and hate him at the same time.”
I swallow hard and nod, grabbing my schedule and flipping through the pages for a distraction to keep my tears at bay because if I have to keep soaking up Big Jim’s words, I’m surely going to break.
Realizing I need a few moments to myself, Jim nods toward my sketchpad. “Why don’t you put all that emotion into a design?” he says, moving around his station and preparing for his first client of the day. “It’ll give you somewhere to channel all of that bullshit.”
My brows furrow as I glance toward my sketchpad, intrigue building in my chest. I haven’t picked up a pencil all week, too afraid of what kind of designs might come out of me, but Big Jim is right. I need somewhere to channel all of this guilt, and where better to get it out than a design? Perhaps I could do something dedicated to Crew. After all, there’s a blank space on my arm that he never got around to completing.
With my mind set, I quickly sort out my schedule and start making calls, trying to squeeze in as many of Crew’s clients and hating how I have to explain over and over again why I’ll be taking over all of his appointments. Then after making sure everything in my station is exactly where it should be, I focus my attention on my sketchbook.