She pulled back and looked up at me, her gaze searching. “Really? You’re not going to break up with me?”
“Of course not. Jesus.” The thought was unimaginable. Every day was Robin, and Robin was every day. “I’m glad you told me. That’s an awful secret to keep inside, baby. Let me share your pain.” I wasn’t sure how to explain it to her, but I tried. “I’m like that bird, you know . . . I can hold up the sky for you, Robin.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes shining. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed me. “You are the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”
That made me feel a little self-conscious. “You’re still young,” I told her.
She gave a watery laugh. “No, I’m serious.”
I laughed, too, relieved that she seemed okay. Relieved that I seemed okay. “So am I.” I took her hand and started walking again.
“You’re really not mad? I mean, what I did to Kylie . . .”
That was a complicated question because it was a complicated situation. Would I want it to have never happened? Hell, yeah. But I didn’t want her to feel any upset from me at all, so I glanced at her, reminding myself she could never be the source of my anger.
Keeping my tone neutral, I asked, “If you were sober, would you have done that?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“So it was the alcohol, which you’re not touching anymore. I can live with that. Lesson learned, right?”
“Oh, God, yes.” Her voice was emphatic. “I don’t even know who that person was. It’s so damn scary to realize that you basically go to a place that isn’t even in line with who you are inside . . . I mean, it’s one thing if alcohol loosens you up, makes you go for something you secretly wanted, or you get flirty or aggressive or whatever, but this was like against everything I possibly believe in. It makes no sense. It’s like it wasn’t even me, and that is terrifying.”
The night was warm but breezy, and I held her hand tightly as we went back all the shops on Clifton, most of them closed for the night. Only the pizza parlor was still open, the tables all full of customers. I stroked her fingers and thought about what she’d said. It was why I had never touched booze or drugs. “I would be terrified, too. But you know, I’ve seen it over and over with my mom and my aunt. You become, I don’t know, the id to the ego, or whatever that theory was. It’s like drugs and alcohol push you into a pure selfishness.”
“Or recklessness.” Robin shuddered. “Thanks for what you said in there. I appreciate it. And not every social drinker has a problem. I just know I don’t know when to stop and that is a problem.”
“I’m proud of you for stepping away from what you know is bad for you.” She was the first person close to me who really had.
“It’s been so awful . . . I want to tell Kylie, because I feel so horrible, but I know it will just hurt her.”
“I don’t think you should tell her. What’s the point?” I tossed my hair out of my eyes. “But I’m not going to lie. I want to punch Nathan in his pretty face.”
“I don’t want you to do that,” she said quietly. “I want to move on.”
My throat tightened. If that’s what she wanted, that’s what I would do. Hell, I would do anything she asked, because when she looked at me, I saw love . . . for the first time in my life, I saw pure, sweet love. Not sneering, not wheedling, not irritation, not guilt or exasperation, but just love from someone who didn’t even have to love me.
She just did.
I nodded. “I do, too. You don’t throw my conviction in my face, and I will never throw this in yours. We’re moving forward. Together.”
“Together,” she whispered.
Chapter Twelve
Robin
Pulling the door open of the tattoo shop, I dropped my keys into my cross-body bag and glanced around for Phoenix. His text had been vague and suspicious, a request that I meet him at work to see something important. I was a little nervous, because I suspected he had gotten that cobra tattoo done and I wasn’t sure there was anywhere on his body I really wanted to see that every day. Then again, while I wasn’t up on tattoo pricing, I also knew he was dead broke still and a piece like that had to be at least a few hundred bucks for the outline, and more for the shading.
I was also nervous because I had his surprise birthday party planned for when he got off work, and I still needed to pick up the cake, prep the food, and wrap the gifts I’d gotten him. I wanted his birthday to be perfect.
In the week since I’d told him about Nathan, we had only gotten closer, because I wasn’t holding anything back at all. He spent every night with me, but I still had plenty of time to study when he was at work, and he was totally fine with me going to the ACT and digital arts clubs. I had met Helen-Marie for coffee a couple of times between classes and I really liked her. Phoenix was spending time with Jayden and Easton when Tyler and Riley were working and he was enjoying doing that. They looked up to him, and he needed that purpose, whether or not he knew it.
Phoenix had spent too much of his life alone and I didn’t want another birthday to go by where he was solo at Dairy Queen. I didn’t have anything big planned, just the usual group at our apartment, which fortunately did not include Nathan because he was working, but I wanted Phoenix to see how much he mattered to me. How he mattered just in general.
This was the first time I’d been to the shop and I felt a little naked with my bare skin next to all the heavily inked artists and customers waiting in the lobby. It was mostly a big, open room with lots of tattoo art displayed on all the walls, cubicles to one side where the artists worked. The buzz of the needles filled the room, along with heavy metal music. Phoenix fit here, I could see that. A year ago, I would have felt uncomfortable walking in, and I would have attempted to dress the part to fit in, but now it didn’t bother me that I wasn’t rock star enough for this crowd. Being comfortable with who I was, in my own skin, was an awesome feeling.
What I found when I didn’t think about my clothes, about dressing to impress, was that I gravitated toward patterns and texture, comfortable clothes with something funky about them. I guess it was the artist in me, but I was definitely morphing into Boho Girl, and it felt right. It felt like me.
“Can I help you?” a guy with a shaved head and ear gauges asked me.
“I’m looking for Phoenix. Is he available right now?”
“You’re Robin, aren’t you?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Hey, I’m Bob.” He stuck his hand out over the counter. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” So this was the owner, the one who hadn’t cared that Phoenix was fresh out of jail. I wanted to hug him but restrained myself.
“I could tell it was you. He’s in the third room on the right there. Go ahead on over. It looks fucking unreal. Almost as beautiful as the real thing,” he said with a wink.
That confused me a little. How beautiful was a cobra? But then again, art was art, and it all brought its own particular beauty.
Phoenix was lying on his side on a table, arms over his head, another guy bent over him with the needle. “Hey, baby, perfect timing. He’s just about finished.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked, the sound making my teeth rattle and my stomach turn just a little. It looked like the guy was working on Phoenix’s flank, below his ribs, the paper towel in his hand smeared with black ink and blood. Ugh.
“It’s not that bad.” Phoenix smiled at me, that smile that made my heart squeeze.
“There you go.” The artist sat back on his chair and surveyed his work. He spritzed it down and wiped it again. “Looks badass.” Then he finally turned around and looked at me. “Hey, Robin. I’m Paul.”