Page 47 of Feverburn

“Tea?”I asked shrilly.

“Tea, yeah. Right.”

Walking to the kitchen, I opened my cupboard. “I have jasmine, chamomile, or peppermint if you want the caffeine-freeroute.”

The entire loft went pitch black, accompanied by Kiszka howling. Dane held up his phone as we walked downstairs to check the breaker. Waiting at the bottom was Carson with a flashlight.

“Power’s out,”he said.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,”Dane said, examining the breaker box. His squint was barely noticeable in the darkness.

“I’m so sorry, Dane.”

He side-eyed Carson, who was messing with switches.“I think we should just call it a night, Rose. I have to open the shop tomorrow pretty early.”

“Oh, okay.”Even I could hear how slighted I sounded. I hugged him, wondering if he was scowling at Carson over my shoulder.

As the door shut, I turned around and ran into Carson’s chest. It was still dark, so I scrambled, trying to find a direction away from him. He dodged my flailing and held me still by the shoulders.“Woman! Calm down!” He rested the flashlight on the breaker box as a makeshift lantern. The light made him look wolfish andextraintimidating as he snorted lightly,“You let him call youRose?”

“What do you mean? That’s my name.”

“Your name is Roisin or Rosie, but notRose,”he spat in disgust.

“Um, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who decides that. Why do you care anyway?”

His jaw flinched. “I warned you about him. Why don’t you listen to me?”

“Why would I need to listen to you? You want nothing to do with me, and when you do, you’re just an asshole.”

That made him cringe.“Did you fuck him?” he asked tersely.

I scoffed.“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“I’m making it my business.”

We stared at each other, neither one of us breaking. Kiszka pushed hiswetnose into my palm, urging me to talk.“No, okay? No, I didn’t sleep with Dane. I haven’t even kissed him. Tonight was our first date. And I didn’t even realize that was going to happen.”

His face softened in the dark hallway.“What do you mean you didn’t realize?”

“I was tricked. I thought—listen, it’s a long story. I didn’t realize it was a date. Just trust me.”

“You’re not dating him? You looked pretty cozy tattooing his man tit.”

“Also known as a pec.”I rolled my eyes.“We were exchanging ink for oil.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m giving him tattoos in exchange for maintenance on my 4Runner. Ink for oil. You know, the bartering system.”

“I don’t like that,”he said.

I stroked the top of Kizzy’s head. “You don’t have to.”

“How did he even find out you were a tattoo artist? I didn’t know that.”

“I complimented him on his ink that night at the pub quiz. He has some surprisingly good pieces on him. One thing led to another, and it turns out he was a tattoo model for a buddy of mine back in Boston. One night, I showed him some of my work when he was getting coffee at Silver Springs, and we agreed on a trade agreement. No one else knows this side of me except you. So please don’t mention it to Kaylee.”

I dreaded that my past would catch up to me here. I was sostupidto let that detail slip at the pub quiz. My days as a tattoo artist were over, so painfully over.

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