Page 160 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

Gavin had to admit, Tina had a much lighter touch with Ben than he did. Maybe he needed to take a few lessons from her, because it seemed to work.

Ben tossed back the rest of his coffee before saying, “You’re probably right.” He got up from the table with his empty plate and mug and set them in the sink. “I’ve got a few things to do before time to leave.”

A half hour ago, Gavin had been one of those things. Now, though, Ben just paused as he walked past and kissed Gavin’s cheek before heading out of the kitchen in his underwear.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ben

Go to work, they said. Sure. Right. They thought he’d be underfoot at the house, but that was exactly what Ben felt like at the shop too. He’d nearly destroyed his gun within ten minutes of walking through the door. Trying to set everything up and get ready for his first appointment, he’d tripped on a cord, knocked his tray over, and barely caught his gun before it hit the concrete floor.

Even now as he got ready for one of his favorite customers, Ben was still painfully aware of his shredded nerves.

“You look like shit,” Maggie said as she walked around the corner and found Ben hunched over his tray, trying to set everything out again.

“Thanks,” he said, nearly jumping at the sound of her voice. “I feel like shit. How are you today?”

She still had a scarf wrapped around her head, so he could only assume her hair was still thin and patchy, too short for her taste. “I feel fantastic, kid,” she said, grinning at him as she started to unbutton her top.

“Good,” Ben said as he finished getting his station ready. “After the last couple of years you’ve had, you deserve some fantastic.”

Maggie had come in a few months earlier, after the chemo roller coaster, after a double mastectomy. After they said the word remission to her. Tears had welled in her eyes as she showed him the freshly healed scars she wanted covered. She didn’t want reconstructive surgery, didn’t want to forget what she’d been through and move on. She wanted a badge of honor, something beautiful. Ben had sketched out a few designs, and in the end, she didn’t even want to look at them. It was scary as hell, but Ben had done his best—made a breastplate out of ink, fit for a hero, a survivor. They had started work as soon as her doctors had cleared her for it.

Maggie settled on his table, looking restful, at peace with her life. “That’s the God’s truth,” she said, glancing over at Ben. “Why do you look so rattled today?”

That wasn’t really a fair question. He always felt a little rattled when Maggie was on his table. Mostly because he knew hers—more than anyone else, except for maybe Gavin’s—had to be perfect. She deserved some perfection. “My soon-to-be sister-in-law is possibly in labor as we speak,” Ben said as he snapped on his gloves and reached for the gauze. “They said I’d be in the way, though, so here I am.” He paused as he doused the gauze in alcohol and grinned at Maggie. “Lucky you.”

She inhaled as the cold cloth touched her skin, but she laughed too. “I would’ve been pissed if you’d canceled on me today. Baby or no baby.”

“I’m pretty used to people being pissed at me, so…” Ben turned on his gun and let some of the ink spatter out against a paper towel on his tray. “You ready?”

“Been ready,” Maggie said as she dropped her head against his table, resting on the cushion.

He’d gotten to know her pretty well since he’d been working on her. She talked a lot, told him things she probably hadn’t even told a shrink. From an abusive father, to an abusive husband, drug abuse, a brief stint with prostitution to keep her kids fed when they were little, Maggie was a poster child for what not to do. But she was also a poster child for how to turn your life around. She told Ben once that she had lived her life so close to the flame, it had finally burned all the impurities out of her, refined her somehow.

That’s why Ben picked a phoenix for her piece. Not in classic bright orange, but a big colorful one, with a fierce expression and piercing, all-knowing eyes. The damn thing looked like it was ready to take on the world, its tail sweeping around her ribs, sparks still trailing off it, as if it had just risen from the fires of hell.

Maggie hadn’t given him much to go on, so Ben had given her furious beauty, resolve, hope. He’d engraved hope into her skin with every line, and now that they were ready to add the color, he was going to breathe life into it.

She chatted while he worked, but mostly Ben heard the buzz of his gun, felt the ache in his hand and his back after it had been too long, and he didn’t notice the time at all.

They’d all been right. He needed to work today.

Ben hadn’t realized how long he’d been at it, but he was nearly done. When he paused to change colors, Maggie said quietly, “I think that’s about all I’m good for today.”

He was used to that—part of the reason it had taken them so long to complete the job. “My hand could use a long break anyway,” he said. She gave him a weak smile for that. “You just rest for a bit before you sit up.” He reached into his top drawer and pulled out a Blow Pop for her—watermelon, Maggie’s favorite.

“That’s a good idea,” she said. “One of these days, I’ll get my energy back and it won’t drain right back out,” she said as she unwrapped the sucker and stuck it in her mouth. “That’s what they keep telling me anyway.”

“Then you better listen to ’em, and warn everyone so we don’t get used to you slackin’.” As he finished cleaning her up, he asked, “You want me to call your daughter so she can come get you?”

Maggie buttoned her shirt and said, “No, I’ll just sit another minute, and then I can catch my bus.”

Ben didn’t like the idea of that at all. “Wanna go for a ride on the back of my bike instead?”

Maggie looked at him, dubious, but there was a spark of something else in her eyes too. Excitement, maybe? “What kind of bike? Not some crotch rocket?”

With a snort of laughter, he said, “It’s a ’68 Harley, thank you very much.” Yeah, his bike was older than he was, but he loved the damn thing almost as much as he loved Gavin. He and his father had worked an entire summer to restore it when Ben was barely old enough to ride it.

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