Page 8 of The Truth of Loving You

But if I thought about his hands touching me for longer than a second, I’d be hard again. The pain felt soothing in his capable hands, so I focused on the needle and let my mind go blank. The pain sorted all the chaotic thoughts hammering my brain into file folders I tucked away. My therapist would probably argue that this was not better than every single coping strategy I’d tried, but results didn’t lie.

My mind always operated at a million miles an hour. Now it was blank. Nothing existed besides Cole’s steady hand, the pain, and the hum of the gun. No wonder people had ink all over their bodies. I could get addicted to this.

This was a one-time indulgence. Cole lit fires in me that were counterproductive to my life’s goals. I wanted to be taken seriously at Branson Financial. If I performed at the level Mr. Branson expected of me, I’d have considerable stock options and the opportunity to be promoted to the C-suite—the highest-ranking executives in the company. Any involvement with Cole would derail those aspirations.

I’d asked John about Mr. Branson’s and Cole’s relationship. “Explosive” was the term John had used. Mr. Branson took a chance on me, and I wouldn’t ruin it for some irrational attraction to his son. I was straight.

Decision made, I closed my eyes and let the pain relax me.

“All set,” Cole rumbled.

“What?” My eyes flew open. “I thought it’d take a couple of hours.”

Cole’s chuckle sent a shiver through me. “It’s been almost that. You zoned out on me.”

“Oh, sorry.” I was always apologizing to this man, and I needed to stop.

His big hand prevented me from looking down at his work. And tilting my face down placed my lips entirely too close to his skin. I jerked my head back and smashed it into the chair.

Cole paused with a sideways glance at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so relaxed getting a tattoo. No wincing, or grimacing, or hands clenched into fists.”

I let out a slow breath. “Yeah, it put me in a weird headspace and my brain took a much-needed vacation.” My body was loose, and I wasn’t fidgeting.

The intensity in Cole’s eyes confused me, but the air became thicker, and the little hairs on my arms raised as we locked gazes.

“Welp,” Cole said as he abruptly pushed his wheeled chair away from me, sending him across the room, “let me get your aftercare instruction sheet.”

Cole continued an explanation as he rifled through a cart with supplies, but the buzzing in my head overrode his words. When he’d moved away it was as if a lock had snapped and all my anxiety whooshed back in, turning my brain up to speed a billion and one to make up for the reprieve. I fought the urge to reach out for him to ground me again. It had been the pain, not him. He couldn’t help me now.

I closed my eyes, practicing my five senses technique. Cole’s words registered in the background but my brain had to work overtime, focusing to calm down. When I opened my eyes, Cole wasn’t in the room. Standing on shaky legs, I heard his voice yelling to me from the other room, and I followed it.

“I knew I had a few extra copies in here,” Cole said, slamming a file cabinet shut.

But I stared at his desk with piles of papers strewn everywhere. My brain short-circuited. My body moved with the sole purpose of bringing order to mayhem.

“Chaos. It’s pure chaos,” I heard myself mutter as I began picking up, scanning, and organizing the papers. “I just have to...I know it’s...this is why I don’t have friends. I can’t leave it like this. It’s not right.”

I felt Cole’s palm on my arm but I brushed it off.

“It won’t take me long. I’m sorry. I can’t stop. It’s not right,” I said.

Cole’s hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed. I’d moved behind Cole’s desk and processed the documents quickly. He remained quiet with his hand on my shoulder, which allowed my brain to focus on a filing system. “I know...boundaries...I shouldn’t but I can’t stop. I’ll leave. I promise.” In the silence, the air-conditioning kicked on and turned my sweaty skin clammy. “Almost done.”

When the chaos turned to order, my brain hit a tripwire, and I dropped my head, nearing collapse. Cole maneuvered me into his chair.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he barked, so of course, I obeyed that voice.

Later, I would feel the impact of Cole seeing me like this, but right now I had to breathe so I didn’t perpetuate my panic attack and pass out.

Cole knelt between my legs and uncapped a bottle of water. “Drink,” he said as if daring me to disobey him.

Both his palms rested on my thighs with his thumbs drawing soothing circles.

My eyes remained steadfastly closed. Now that the panic abated, embarrassment set in. Getting out of here with my eyes closed wasn’t an option, so I gave myself another few moments before I looked into Cole’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern written all over his face.

“Never better,” I quipped. “I actually never wanted the tattoo. It was all an elaborate scheme to secure a job offer as your bookkeeper. Did I get the job?” I hoped my sweeping hand gesture and smile put him at ease.

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