Written on My Heart Read online

  There’s a softness to her that draws me in. She’s an uncut diamond, raw in her beauty. She stands before me with wispy hair, little makeup, and an oversize sweatshirt that hangs off a shoulder, and yet I’m literally stunned by her.

  I want to say something snarky, something like, You could have left your fucking dog at home for starters. Not because I mind her dog being here—because I don’t—but I need her to hate me. I want to see the disgust she held in her eyes the first night she met me. Because, God help me, right now, watching her nervously tug the hem of her shirt, I want her.

  I want her. There’s this primal part of me that wants to lay claim to her, to fucking tear into any other guy who would mess with her, because she’s mine. But that’s not right. I shouldn’t want anyone else—Harper is the only girl I want in my life, the only girl I need.

  “Should we get started?” I take a cautious step back. I need to get her out of my shop, and out of my life, as fast as possible. If only I could dig a spoon into the parts of my brain she’s infected and scoop her out of my head.

  “Um, sure.” She crouches and unhooks the puppy from his leash. He immediately sets about exploring the shop. When she stands, she keeps her gaze locked on the floor. “I was just thinking, we could, um, talk about last night first?”

  My body goes rigid. Last night is the last thing I want to talk about.

  She must see something on my face that amuses her because she smiles. “Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to try and rope you into a relationship because we kissed. Actually, I was hoping we could just forget it even happened.”

  My muscles relax. “Forget what happened?” I brush the curtain aside and motion her into the back room.

  She grins and moves forward, stopping in front of me. Her sudden closeness winds ropes through me, all of them connected to her, tugging me closer. Despite the pull, I clench my jaw and stand my ground. “Thanks,” she says, and then pauses. “Just so you know, I don’t think you’re an asshole.”

  “Thank God. Now I can sleep at night.”

  Her grin widens. “So we’re back where we started. Perfect.” She walks to the chair and climbs into it.

  I want to agree, but the second she stretches out against the black vinyl my thoughts drift back to the night before, when she straddled my body on that very spot, her fingers burning trails along my skin.

  A pulsing ache along my jaw pulls me from the memory. It takes me a second to realize the pain is from clenching my teeth. And that’s when I realize something else: she’s wrong.

  We’ll never be back where we started. When you ignite a fire, you can never rebuild out of the ashes left behind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ashlyn

  I stare at the typewriter on my arm. Blood mixes with the ointment, blurring the image beneath the plastic wrap taped to my skin. Still, I can tell the drawing is absolutely perfect. No trace of Chris’s name remains. Like Lane said the night we first met, I feel like this tattoo really has been a rite of passage. While I’d lost my home, as well as most of my belongings, at least I’d reclaimed my body.

  “You’re all set.” Lane slides away from me on his rolling stool and pulls his black latex gloves off with a snap. “You remember what I said about the antibacterial soap and lotion, right?”

  I nod, realizing I’ll have to pick them up at Walgreens. This sucks because I’ll be depleting my already nonexistent funds. Still, without insurance, a trip to the emergency room for a preventable infection would be far worse.

  He stands. “Looks like we’re all done here.”

  His words catch me off guard, and I sit up. We are done. In more ways than one. “I guess so.” I slide off the chair as a wave of disappointment rolls through me. Stupid, I know. Lane already has someone and I need to figure my life out before I get involved in a relationship. Still, the memory of his lips grazing down my neck is seared into my mind like a brand.

  My breath quickens, and I look away before my thoughts betray me. God, Ashlyn, for once in your life can you not be such a pathetic embarrassment? I jerk back with a gasp, not certain if the words whispering through my head are mine, or the resonating scars left by my stepdad.

  Lane narrows his eyes. “Something wrong?”

  Only everything. But I don’t tell him this, and instead shake my head. My problems are my own. “Thanks for everything, Lane.” I like the way his name feels sliding off my tongue, and I silently mourn the fact I won’t get to say it to him again.

  He’s focused on dismantling the needle from the tattoo machine, so he doesn’t look up as he nods.

  So I guess that’s it. We really are done. It’s what I want—but if that’s really true, why is there an ache growing in my chest as I walk away? Hank bounds after me. I scoop him up before I brush through the curtain into the lobby.

  Lane doesn’t follow. When I open the front door and the chime sounds, he doesn’t call out to me to stop, either.

  Good, I think as I step out into the cool fall evening. A nice clean break—that’s exactly what I want. Logically, I know he’s no good for me. Emily stated as much. Still, when I’m with him, I feel safer than I’ve ever felt. After all, hadn’t he risked a fight to get me home safely the night of the party? Hadn’t he given me a ride to my car, covered up my tattoo, and held me during a massive freak out all the while not asking for anything in return? How bad can he really be?

  And then I think about his hands roaming my body and wonder how bad do I want him to be?

  Jesus, Ash! Pull yourself together.

  I shake my head to clear all thoughts of Lane as I fasten Hank’s leash. I set the puppy on the ground to do his business before we get in the car. As he sniffs the grass, I can’t help but look over my shoulder, hoping to see Lane watching me from the door.

  Of course he’s not, and I scold myself for hoping he would be, or for hoping last night meant anything to him at all. Why should it? He has a girlfriend, I remind myself for the millionth time. He was just trying to make me feel better after my freak out, and things got a little…out of control. Besides, what did it matter if he cared or not?

  It’s not like I need the headache of another guy in my life, anyway. They only want to change you, control you, and keep you tied down. And now, for the first time in my life, I’m free.

  But as I climb inside my car with Hank and put the key in the ignition, it occurs to me, wings are pretty useless when you have nowhere to fly.

  “Shit.” I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. I can always spend another night in my car at the rest stop. But where would I go tomorrow? And the day after that? I have several more months of work before I’ll have enough stored away for an apartment deposit. Can I live out of my car for that long? And what about Hank? What am I supposed to do with him while I’m at work?

  I open my eyes and glance at the sleeping bundle of fur curled in the passenger seat. A pang rips through my chest as I realize I have no choice but to give him up. He deserves better than this. I wonder if he’ll think I abandoned him, that I lost interest like Selena.

  I reach out to stroke his fuzzy head. “I love you, Hank,” I say. The words feel foreign on my tongue. I can’t remember the last time I uttered them about anyone—or anything, for that matter. Chris said them to me once, but we’d been having sex so I don’t think it counts.

  There were kids in high school who would slink down in embarrassment when their mom or dad would tell them as they got out of the car that they loved them. I remember thinking I would never shrink away from such affection if I had some of my own. Instead, I imagined the words as a blanket, something I could wrap myself in, to shield myself from the world.

  The words in my home were never so soft. They pierced my skin like porcupine quills, jagged and sharp. No matter how hard I tried to pull them free, they stayed a part of me. Stupid. Lazy. Worthless. Even now, months later, I can still feel their sting.

  My face grows hot and I rub my palms against my eyes to keep the tears
from spilling. No more tears. I promised myself. I can feel myself cracking, on the verge of breaking into a million tiny pieces. But I can’t let myself fall apart. If that happens, I’m almost certain I won’t be able to put myself back together.

  Someone raps on the window next to me and I jolt upright with a startled gasp. I grab the pepper spray I keep tucked beside my seat. I’m no stranger to being harassed while in my car. “Go away!” I raise the pepper spray and turn to the window.

  Outside my car, Lane frowns and folds his arms. “Go away or what? You’ll mace yourself? Your window is up.”

  “I know that.” Embarrassment burns up my neck into my cheeks. I scowl at him as I roll my window down. “I was going to use it if you broke into my car and tried to pull me out.”

  Hank opens his eyes and, upon seeing Lane at the window, wags his tail.

  Lane’s frown deepens. “Is that something you really have to worry about? What kind of neighborhoods are you driving through?”

  If he only knew. “You can never be too prepared,” I mutter.

  He leans forward, bracing his hands on my car door. The tattoos on his arms are nothing but dark shadows in the night. “I’ll say. Look at all the stuff you got back there.” He motions to mountain of clothes piled across the backseat.

  “It’s laundry day.” I turn away so he can’t read the lie on my face.

  “Uh-huh.” I can tell by his voice he has anyway. “So you’re going to the laundromat with your toothbrush”—he leans closer to me and peers over my shoulder—“and dog food bowls?”

  I shrug. “You see how much laundry is back there. It’s going to be an all-nighter.”

  Actually, laundromats in good neighborhoods aren’t half-bad places to spend the night. Some of them have bathrooms, vending machines, and televisions—and all it costs to stay is a handful of quarters.

  “Cut the shit, Ash.” Lane slaps a hand against my car, forcing me to look at him. “What the hell is really going on?”

  Shame rolls through my gut. I’m a big fucking failure, that’s what. I tried to make it on my own and, for the second time in three months, I’m homeless. Still, the words won’t leave my tongue. This is my problem, not his.

  “Ash.” Lane’s voice is noticeably softer, and I can’t help but shiver at the way my name sounds on his lips—like the word means something beautiful, rather than charred remains. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  I can feel the damn tears welling in my eyes at the same time I will myself not to blink. Why is he asking me this, picking a scab that’s sure to bleed? We agreed we weren’t going to have anything to do with each other.

  Lane sighs. “Well, that answers that. Where are you running to?”

  I laugh, even as the burn of my eyes becomes too great. I blink and fresh tears course down my cheek. If only it were that easy—that a place exists where I can run and my problems won’t follow.

  He scowls. “I don’t understand. What’s so funny?”

  “That you think I’m running away.” I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. “I already tried that—turns out, I got nowhere to go.”

  He stands and murmurs something under his breath that I can’t make out. He turns away from me and jams his fingers through his hair.

  This is exactly what I don’t want—anyone, least of all Lane, inconvenienced by my sucky life. I reach for the keys in the ignition and turn them. The engine roars to life.

  Lane swivels on his feet. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  I shrug. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll figure it out. I usually do.” I give him a weak smile and place my hands on the wheel.

  “No.” He closes the distance between us and bends down to stare at me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  It’s my turn to frown. “Are you unfamiliar with how a car works?”

  “Goddamn it, Ash.” Before I can stop him, he ducks through the window, leans across my lap, and snatches my car keys from the ignition.”

  “Lane! What the fuck!”

  He backs away from my window and jingles my keys in his hand. “Out of the car, cupcake.”

  Anger rolls over me in hot waves as I fling open my door and step onto the asphalt. I’m thankful for the heat of it, a welcome distraction from my earlier tears. I hold my hand out. “Give them back.”

  “In a minute.” He tucks them in his jeans pocket. “First, you’re coming with me.”

  “No, I’m not.” I’m so tired of everyone telling me what to do. I don’t know what Lane has planned, but I do know the best thing for both of us is to go our separate ways, not to prolong our time together.

  He shrugs. “Fine. Stay out here then.” He turns around and walks back to the tattoo studio—with my keys.

  “Lane!” I take a step forward. My blood feels on the verge of boiling. “Don’t you dare! You come back right now and give me my keys!”

  He keeps walking. When he reaches the front of the tattoo studio, he veers to the right and climbs a wooden staircase alongside the brick building. I wait, sure he’s going to come back. Instead, he unlocks the door at the top of the stairs and disappears inside.

  Son of a bitch! I stand there, blinking, unable to believe he left me without my car keys. I consider my options, only to realize I don’t have many. I can stand in the middle of the street all night, or I can go after him.

  Not wanting to leave Hank alone, I pull him from the car and walk across the street to the side of the building. Up close, the stairs Lane ascended do little to instill confidence. The brittle steps creak beneath my feet. I touch the handrail only to recoil as splinters stab my skin.

  I hug the squirming puppy closer to my body. Just why does Lane want me to follow him up here anyway? My mind races as my steps slow. How dumb am I to follow a guy I barely know into an unknown room? I am considering going back for my pepper spray, when Lane ducks his head out of the door.

  “Can you be any slower?”

  “Yes.” I slow my climb to a crawl.

  He sighs and disappears back inside.

  With a smile, I finish climbing the stairs at my normal pace. I enter the open door and find myself in what looks to be a tiny, dim, studio apartment. A threadbare loveseat stands across from an old tube television backed against a peeling wall. A single light illuminates the room, as well as several dark stains on the wall. Lane’s examining the faucet in the small kitchenette. A dead plant sits in the window above his head. At the opposite end of the room, an unmade bed stands in the corner, with a folded, faded quilt and sheets stacked on top.

  My pulse quickens upon seeing the bed, and my throat tightens. I’ve been offered money before in exchange for favors. Of course I didn’t accept then, and I won’t accept now. I back slowly toward the door as disappointment washes through me. I can’t believe Lane is the kind of guy to even make this kind of offer.

  “I’ll fix this leak tomorrow.” Lane looks up from the faucet and, after catching sight of me moving toward the door, his eyes narrow. “Where are you going?”

  I shake my head and pull Hank to my chest. “I’m sorry. I know things got heated between us yesterday, but that doesn’t mean I’m like that.”

  Lines of confusion pinch his brow. “Like what?”

  “I’m not going to sleep with you for money or whatever.”

  He makes a choking noise. “Sleep with me? Fuck, Ash! That’s not why I brought you here.” He strides across the room, and my muscles tighten with each step. He stops inches away from me, dipping his head to meet my eyes. “Is that really the type of guy you think I am?”

  I frown because I don’t really know what kind of guy he is. The only thing I know for sure is my body temperature spikes several degrees whenever he is near. My heart flutters when he says my name, and my chest tightens when we touch. In short, he makes me absolutely miserable. At the same time, I realize I was so drunk the night of the party, if he wanted to take advantage of me, he could have easily done it then.


  “Why have you brought me here?” I ask.

  “To show you this!” He holds his arms out wide. “I know it’s not much, and it needs a little bit of work, but the apartment is yours if you want it.”

  An apartment? Of my own? It’s as if the room transforms before my eyes, morphing from a dark, paint-peeled room to a brilliant place of endless possibilities. The frayed couch only needs a throw to brighten it up. The floors just need a good cleaning and I can easily give the walls a fresh coat of paint.

  I blink, trying to catch hold of my racing thoughts. That’s when a niggling doubt creeps in and all but squashes my blooming excitement. I turn away. “Look, Lane, I really appreciate your offer, but there’s no way I can afford to rent a place on my own right now.”

  “I haven’t even told you what rent is.”

  I look at him. “My roommate had a party and someone broke into my room and stole all of my savings. Even if the rent is super cheap, I can’t afford a deposit. It’s been my experience that when people offer to help me, they usually want something in return. I don’t know what you want, Lane, but it’s probably more than I’m able to give.”

  I don’t give him a chance to argue before I turn and walk out the door. It’s not like there’s anything he can say that will change my mind. I have nothing. I can pay nothing. Even if I could, people have been taking pieces of me ever since I was a kid. If I give anymore away, there might not be anything left.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lane

  I stand there, unmoving, for several seconds after she leaves. Goddamned if this girl didn’t walk away from me again. That in itself should be enough warning for me to leave well enough alone. Once a runner, always a runner. But instead of listening to common sense, rocket scientist that I am, I follow her out the door.

  She’s halfway down the stairs when I call out. “Where are you going now?”

  She turns to me, puppy clutched to her chest. “I’ll figure it out.”