Love in the Light (Hearts in Darkness, #2)(45)

“Glad you called, man,” Heath said, extending his hand. “Been slow as f*cking molasses in here all day.”

Caden returned the handshake. “This is win-win then because I really wanted to get in tonight.”

“Well, come on back and let’s rock and roll,” Heath said. “Flying solo?”

“Yeah,” Caden said, the reference to Makenna not making him sad and regretful—for once, but making him even more confident in what he was about to do. Because clearly, he was in need of a new reminder, a new declaration, a new promise. And ink had always been part of his process for coping and healing.

“So tell me what you’re thinking,” Heath said, gesturing to the chair at his station.

“It’s text. I want it on my left forearm, big as you can make it.” As he sat, he handed Heath a sheet of paper he’d written on in the Jeep.

Heath nodded. “Want any embellishments? Flowers? Ribbon? Flourishes. Have any thoughts on font?”

“I’m open. You know what looks good, and I always like what you come up with. Just so the words are bold and the most prominent thing about the piece, I’ll be happy,” Caden said.

“Gimme ten to pull something together,” Heath said, opening up his laptop. It didn’t even take ten minutes. “What about something like this?”

Caden’s gaze ran over the design on the screen. It was different from anything he’d imagined, so naturally it was perfect. “Do it. Just like that.”

The first dig of the needles into his skin was like a balm to his soul. He’d always loved the feeling of getting a tattoo. He liked the pain because it reminded him he was alive. Enduring it always made him feel stronger. And each new piece always left him feeling like he’d donned a new plate in the suit of armor he’d spent a lifetime creating.

This one was no different.

What Heath had designed was intricate, and good-looking lettering took time, so Caden was there a long while. But he was totally f*cking content. For once. Even though tattoos on the forearm hurt like a mofo.

About two and a half hours later, Heath said, “All done.”

Caden hadn’t been watching because he wanted to wait for the full effect when the tat was done. Now, he looked.

Solid black cursive words sat at an angle on his forearm in groups of twos, reading from his wrist to his inner elbow:

One Life One Chance No Regrets

Open-faced red roses flanked the top and bottom of the words and wrapped around his arm, while red and black flourishes curved out from some of the letters and around the flowers. The center of the bottom rose morphed into a clock with Roman numerals to remind him that time was always ticking—and wasting, if you didn’t play things right. The way Heath had combined the elements looked phenomenal.

Caden might’ve survived that accident fourteen years before, but he’d never really understood why. He’d never really felt he had anything specific to live for. Meeting Makenna had changed all that, even if Caden had been too mired in the past to see it at the time. But now that he was working so hard to get himself healthy again, he saw it with a clarity that was startling.

Caden wanted a chance for a life with Makenna. And though he knew there was a chance she wouldn’t take him back after what he’d done, he at least had to try.

“Fantastic work as always, Heath. Thank you,” Caden said.

“Anytime. I hope it gives you what you need,” Heath said, leaning in to bandage the piece.

“Me too,” Caden said. “Me too.” And though so much remained uncertain, Caden couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’d come these past six weeks. Because, sitting there in that chair with his arm on fire, Caden’s soul felt lighter than it had in longer than he could remember because he’d renewed his commitment to Sean.

And, more importantly, to himself.





CHAPTER TWENTY



Lying in bed on his day off, something Caden’s therapist had said at his last session pinged around in his brain: Find ways to close the door on the past.

Caden had been thinking about it for days, wanting to find a way to do just that so he could start looking forward instead of always looking back. It was the last thing he needed to figure out before he’d feel ready to go after what he wanted.

Makenna James.

His gaze drifted to the stuffed bear on his nightstand, the one she’d given him to make him feel better. All these weeks, he’d kept it close—well, he hadn’t slept with the damn thing because he was a twenty-eight-year-old man, after all—but he liked having something she’d touched close by.

And Makenna was what Caden most wanted. If she’d have him. And who the hell knew. Given the way he’d bailed on her—abandoned her, really, he might as well call a spade a f*cking spade—he wouldn’t blame her for slamming the door in his face.

Dr. Ward’s advice had stemmed from discussing Caden’s realization that he’d let the past control him so much that he’d made his own worst fears come true. The question was, what the hell did it mean to close the door on the past? How was Caden supposed to do that? All the people involved in the accident that he’d let define his life were gone. And he’d never been one who’d found any answers or solace in talking to gravestones.

The only thing that left was the scene of the accident itself.