But there is a fine line our world dictates between an appropriate and healthy interest in something and obsession. If you express too little interest in anything in particular, you’re lazy, a slacker, lacking in hobbies and liable to fall in with the wrong crowd. If you show too much interest, then clearly you’re obsessive-compulsive, unnatural.

I had already been fixating on Robin, I knew that. But when she made it clear that she was interested in having me fall in love with her, or that she wanted to know if the possibility was there, I knew that I had moved into octopus territory. I wanted to know everything there was to know about her—I wanted to see her all the time, touch her, smell her, unlock the mysteries of her body.

There would be disapproval from somewhere—maybe everywhere—but I didn’t give a shit.

I walked her to her class after she mostly didn’t eat her lunch, holding her hand, which felt small and delicate in mine, ignoring everyone who glanced at us. “So what are you studying?” I asked her. “Art?”

“No. Art isn’t practical. Graphic design. It’s a way to be sort of creative and actually make a living.”

“That makes sense.” Still, I had a hard time picturing her in an office or whatever. I thought of her head bent over the kitchen table or her sketching in the park. That was when she seemed happy. “Did you ever wonder why you were born with a talent if you can’t fully use it? I mean, we can’t all be Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel, so why are we born with this burn to draw?”

“Maybe because we’re people and we’re flawed.” She glanced up at me, her hair tumbling around her face wildly as we walked down the path, students rushing past us on bikes. “For every ten thousand people who have that talent, only one will fully realize their potential.”

Sad but true. I didn’t know anyone who had reached their full potential. Most gave up long before that when the daily grind beat the crap out of them. “Life has a way of doing that. I mean, look at you and me. Neither one of us can pursue studying art. We have to be practical.”

“Yeah. I used to want to run off to Italy or France and study the masters or at the very least have the courage to set up a stall in New Orleans or some place like that and sell my paintings. The starving artist’s life. But I’m too . . . I don’t know. Afraid, I guess. Plain and simple.”

“It’s harder to let go of fear when you have something to lose. Being fearless is easier if you have nothing to risk.” In my case, I had absolutely nothing to lose. But I’d never had particularly grand ambitions. “I suppose I could just as easily be homeless in New Orleans as I can be here, so if I really wanted to do something like that I could, if I could figure out how to get there.”

Her hand squeezed mine tighter. “You’re not homeless.”

For the moment. “Riley politely asked me to leave as soon as I can. He’s worried about his custody of Easton. You know, the whole felony conviction thing.” I was glad I had told Robin about why I’d been in. I didn’t want her to find out from someone else, and I didn’t want secrets between us if we were going to have a shot at a relationship. Granted, I hadn’t told her the full truth, how I had found Iggy raping my mother, but she knew that yes, I was in fact guilty of the crime I’d been in jail for. I had nearly killed him, and I had done it for my mother, whether she appreciated it or not, because no man should be allowed to use his physical power over a woman.

Robin still had a secret, I knew that. Something had happened the night she had blacked out and she knew what it was. She just wasn’t ready to share, and that was okay. I was about 99 percent sure it had something to do with Nathan, because that made the most sense. It wasn’t that hard to imagine she was wasted, his girlfriend was gone, he pushed her mouth down on his dick because everyone is always after what they can get.

I was going to get the truth, and then I was going to make Nathan pay for it.

But that was for later.

Right now, I just wanted to sit back and let Robin work her way inside my heart with her shy smiles and her big, brown eyes.

“Oh,” she said, and she bit her lip. “I guess I can understand that, but it still sucks.”

“I don’t blame Riley or Tyler. They’ve done a lot for me.” More than I had actually expected. But it did feel like with our mothers gone, the bond between us was stronger. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You can stay over with me whenever you need to,” she said.

I smiled. The words were said casually, like she was being polite, but I knew better than that. She wanted me there. I wanted to be there. “Cool. Thanks. But I don’t get off work until eleven and I don’t want to keep you up.”

She stopped walking. “This is my building.” She gestured behind her to a glass monstrosity. “What are your days off work? Do you know yet?”

“Wednesday and Thursday. Weekends are big for tattoo walk-ins.”

Her face lit up. “Those are my days off, too. Well, and Mondays and Tuesdays. I work Friday through Sunday.”

“That works out then.” I glanced up at her classroom building, knowing she had to go, not wanting to let her leave. I had never felt this, the compulsion to be with a girl every second I could, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Have a good first day at work,” she told me. “This is going to be a great opportunity for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, surprised. It was just a standard thing to say, I guess, but it wasn’t what I usually heard. What might just be politeness sounded an awful lot like caring to me, and I was hungry to hear that. It might be what prompted me to say, “Tonight I’ll probably be really tired, but can I stay over tomorrow night? What time do you go to bed?”

“I don’t usually go to bed until midnight.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yes, you can stay over.”

It was there again, that intriguing shyness she had, where she met my eyes, then glanced away, as if she were embarrassed by her willingness. I can’t lie. I found it fucking adorable. It also increased my confidence in her feelings for me.

God only knew what she was seeing when she looked at me, but she was willing to give this a shot, and that was all I could ask for.

“Okay, cool. I’ll text you later.” I tucked her hair behind her ear after it sprung free again. She had thick hair. “Now you’d better go.”

“Right. Talk to you later.” She turned and jogged up the steps without looking back at me, her dress swirling around her feet.

At work as I booked tat appointments and watched artists doing ink on customers, I felt pretty goddamn grateful.

Exactly one week earlier I had been sitting in my cell in a jumpsuit praying my release didn’t get messed up or delayed.

Now here I was, working at a cool shop where no one judged me, my cousins at my back, and a new girl who didn’t seem to care where I’d been, just about who I was.

Pretty fucking awesome.

When I showed up at her house on Tuesday night around eleven thirty, Robin let me in with a smile. “Hi.”

She was wearing pj shorts and a tank top that made my mouth water. Her nipples were clearly outlined beneath the cotton, and I wanted to suck each of them into my mouth and listen to her groan softly in my ear. We’d barely even kissed so far, but I had every intention of changing that in the next twenty minutes if she was down with that. I kept thinking about how it felt to lie in bed next to her, hearing her steady breathing, and I wanted to do that naked, her body as close to mine as it could be.

“How was work?” she asked.

“It’s going good. I mean, it would be better if I could ink customers myself, but I can be patient. And maybe I can talk Riley and Tyler into letting me practice on them.”

She was about to jog up the stairs to the third floor, but I pulled her to a stop in the stairwell and drew her into my arms. Her breath caught as I rested my palms on the small of her back, giving her a smile. “Hey.”