Page 16 of Sing For Me

“Can you go get me some water?” My hands are probably shaking too much to hold a cup, but I need a moment alone to try and get myself under control.

“Sure.” My friend squeezes my shoulder before leaving the room.

I take a deep breath through my nose, holding it for a count of seven before releasing it again. Another two rounds of that and I’m feeling slightly better, the colors and shapes of the room coming into sharper focus, the shadows in the corners receding a little.

Will appears before Marissa and I’m relieved I got things better managed before he showed up. “Here we go.” He sets a heavy box at the end of the table. “Straighten out and I’ll get it in place.”

Stretching out my leg sends immediate relief to my hip. The box gives me something to press the ball of my foot against, easing the pressure even more.

“I thought this might help, too,” he says, and I finally raise my eyes to him. He’s holding two thick pillows, and he gestures to my back. “May I?”

I nod without saying a word, taken aback by the unruffled expression on his face. Will arranges the pillows behind me and I can’t contain the grateful sigh at the extra cushioning next to my hip.

“Better?” He straightens and I realize how close he is. Close enough for me to see that his dark blue eyes are framed by the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen.

“Yes,” I murmur, throat dry. “Thank you.”

He smiles and I think I see understanding in his eyes. “Not a problem, Eva.”

I feel trapped in those eyes, my heart beating hard for a completely different reason. Of course, Marissa shows up with my water at that exact moment and I physically yank myself back, putting a few inches between me and Will.

“Pillows!” she says, thrilled, like Will just brought us both banana splits or something. “Great idea.” She studies me for a minute. “What if you just lie all the way flat?”

“No, this is fine.” Lying flat would probably be the most comfortable position, honestly, but I’m embarrassed enough as it is. There’s no way I’m going to lie here like a log while Will does his work.

That worry is still in her eyes. “Why don’t I stay with you?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Is your tattoo finished?”

“Well, no. We haven’t quite started yet—”

“Rules were we all get one,” I say firmly. “You’re not getting off the hook just because my stupid hip is sore.”

Of course, that’s not why she wants to stay. She saw the distance in my eyes when she got in here, knew exactly what I was fighting off. But feeling like a child who needs a guardian isn’t going to help my current state of mind.

“Okay,” she finally says, sighing. “You just call me if you need anything.”

“I’m fine, Mar. Thanks for your help.”

She shoots Will a grateful look before leaving the room. It’s quiet while he arranges little tubs of ink on his tray. I study his face, wondering just how weirded out he is by me.

But when he looks up, his expression is exactly the same as it had been before—confident and unruffled.

“Comfortable? Ready to get started?”

I blow out a breath. “I’m ready.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment. “Good,” he finally says. “Let’s do it.”

He was right about the pain—it’s a scratchy kind of sting over my skin. Nothing like the shooting stabs I’d just felt from merely sitting with my leg bent.

“Doing okay?”

“Fine, thanks.”

He nods, head still bent over my ankle. “We can take a break any time. Just let me know.”

He works quietly for a moment. Even with the pain, I find myself relaxing, coming back to myself. My gaze gets locked on his face while he works, on the way his forehead scrunches up in concentration. How completely steady his hands are.