Page 7 of Demon
I cock my head and stare at the conundrum across from me. There’s no judgment in her tone or in her eyes, just interest. My eyes sweep her body. She doesn’t falter, just waits for my reply. “Yes.” I am not one for small talk.
Her eyes flick to the visible tattoos on my neck and arms. “Your tattoos are so detailed.” She smiles. “I love the Joker on your forearm. The tattooist did a fantastic job.”
She walks around the bed and to me. My brows furrow and I watch her closely. No fear whatsoever. I think I’ve lost my touch. Most people stay clear of me because of my height, my body—built like a weapon. My face holding that sardonic grin. It unsettles people. Everyone has an intuition that they are supposed to stay away from certain people. Ivy seems to lack that feeling.
She lifts my shirt sleeve up to see the portrait tattoo piece, then gasps. I pull away, though I enjoy watching her facial expressions. She shows so much emotion.
“This one is beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, who is the portrait of?”
I glance at my tattoo. “It was Madeline before”—I briefly peer down at her on the bed—“all of this.” Something horrible happened when we were young. I wanted to remember her the way she was before the incident... the brain damage, the surgeries, and the vegetative state. When she was young and full of life. A permanent tattoo to ensure my memories before the incident live on and to remind myself to never fail a person I care about again. Shit has consequences.
Her eyes line with unshed tears. “That’s so touching.” She smiles sadly.
A couple of tears fall... My hands twitch, the impulsive thought arising that I want to rub them away. I briefly shake my head. What the fuck? I scowl at her. Who is this woman? I sure as hell am going to find out.
FOUR
IVY – LITTLE BIRD
Ivy
After I finish my shift,I drop in to say goodbye to Madeline and Jett. As I leave the room and walk over to the front desk of the ward, I glance over my shoulder to see Jett, standing by the door to his sister’s room, watching me. I gave him a smile and a little wave. He just stares.
Talk about a man of few words. It was like trying to get blood from a stone, but I guess his silence has a voice too. I get the sense he’s not a people person, but I am. I shouldn’t pry so much and should stick to myself and focus on my work, but I enjoy conversing with patients’ families. I’ve taken a liking to Jett. So caring, yet so cold. Very mysterious. I find myself wanting to know more, but he’s part of a motorcycle club. Are they dangerous? What exactly do they do?
Men should be the last thing on my mind after everything Sammy’s father has put us through, but the way Jett cares for his sister and is so devoted, hardly leaving her side, warms my heart. When he told me about the tattoo on his arm of his sister, I both cried and melted into a puddle by his feet. The love he has for his sister proves he has a heart beneath that tough exterior. I wonder why he’s so cold and quiet. I have this odd urge to wrap him up in a big hug. It looks like he needs one. I smile at that thought.
Later, at home, I’m sitting on the lounge chair and thinking about the sexy biker with the polarizing eyes and curt attitude when little miss Sammy plops on my lap with a serious look on her face. “How’s Santa going to know we’ve moved?” Her worried little voice cracks my heart open.
“Because Santa knows everything.” I rub her back. “Don’t worry, Santa will bring the presents here.”
She’s still frowning, so I cup her face. “I promise... What’s wrong?” I stare into the amber eyes that are like my own.
“What about Daddy, is he coming to spend Christmas with us?”
I pull her into a tight embrace and blink back the emotion. I hate that Dickhead has put us into this situation. That Sammy now misses out on having a father. It feels like I’m the bad person, when I just want us to be free and not have to worry about what he’s got himself into and what type of people he’s pissed off. Anger simmers beneath the surface.
“I don’t know if Daddy’s coming to Christmas. But that’s okay. You haven’t told me what’s on your Christmas list yet.”
She pulls back and that frown fades into a grin. “I want unicorns.”
I’m not surprised in the least. I’ve been putting a little money away for Christmas, not that I’ve had a chance to save much since Dickhead wiped out my savings last time. Christmas is coming up quickly, so I have to try to save as much as possible. The rent here is expensive. I’m sure we’re living in the oldest townhouse that was ever built in Crown Village, but it’s a home for us, at least in the meantime.
“It’s bedtime now.”
“I’m not tired.” She pouts, her eyebrows squishing together. It’s the cutest thing.
I lift her off my lap. “Come on, you should’ve been in bed an hour ago.”
She huffs. “Fine.”
Five years old and already full of sass. God help me when she gets older. I follow her into her bedroom, and she dives into bed, pulling her colorful unicorn comforter over her.
“Book first, Mom.”
“Which one do you want me to read tonight?”
“Sally the unicorn.”
