Not a day goes by that I don’t imagine that I see him on a street corner or hear his voice in a café. Every time the bell rings in the tattoo parlor, my heart jumps, hoping it’s him. I can’t watch the Discovery Channel without bursting into tears, and I haven’t touched a potato chip in weeks.

“What about that?” She sits beside me on the couch and gestures to the painting. “It’s beautiful. You caught a side of him I’ve never seen before. But if it’s going to make you catatonic for an entire morning, maybe it should go.”

Frowning, I glance over at Jess. “How did you know that red streak was Ray? Even he didn’t know.”

Jess shrugs. “You love color.”

“Well, it’s not finished.” I ball my hands into fists in my lap. Jess has a way of poking where I don’t want to be poked. “If I’d caught his real nature, maybe I would have run away when I still had the chance of not getting my heart broken.”

She gives my arm a squeeze. “You and me both. Tag is totally withdrawn. I haven’t seen or heard from him in weeks. I thought we’d made some progress in the hospital, but I guess he just needed a friend.”

Immediately I feel guilty for not giving her the attention I know she needs. Although she called it quits with Blade Saw after she and Tag became close when I was in the hospital, I think she’s come to the end of her rope.

“I’m sorry.” I draw in a deep breath. “I haven’t been a good friend these last few weeks. It’s just…the pain won’t go away. I thought it was part of the PTSD, but my new therapist says it’s grief. She says I lost someone I love and it doesn’t matter whether he died or walked away, I still have to grieve. I just wish she would tell me how long. This last week, I’ve been bursting into tears at the stupidest things and I’ve totally lost my appetite. When I do eat, I feel like throwing up. It seems to be getting worse, not better.”

“Then why don’t you just forget about selling this stuff?” Jess says, waving her hand at the pile of easels and paintbrushes outside my hall closet. “There’s no burning urgency to get rid of it. Your mom is planning to have a sale every week until they’ve downsized enough for their new condo. We’ll just put it all back, and when you’re ready, you can sort through it again. I think you’re making an emotional decision that you’re going to regret.”

With a sigh, I push myself off the couch and pick up the painting. “I loved him.”

“I know you did.”

“I never loved anyone like that before.”

Jess sighs. “That’s why I stopped the whole loving thing. It fucking hurts.”

* * *

Duncan and Christos are both tidying up when I arrive at Redemption later that afternoon. Slim is in Rose’s chair, pounding away on the computer. He gives me a wave and I stop at the desk.

“You doing Rose’s job now?”

“My last day. I’m doing all the things I wished I could do. And I’ve just realized I was overpaying Rose. This job doesn’t require a whole lot of skill.”

“You were paying her for her people skills, not her typing skills. She gets people in the door. She makes them happy to be here. And she makes them happy to pay. You can’t put a price on that.”

Slim laughs. “Very true. That’s why I’m going to focus on what I do best. All art. All the time. And no young bucks like Torment trying to push me around.”

The bell rings and I look up just as our long-lost artist, Jay, walks into the shop. It’s been over two months since I’ve seen him, and he looks thinner, his long, sandy brown hair messier, and his thin face even more peaked than usual. He’s wearing a beaded hemp shirt, torn jeans, and a pair of flip-flops. So not Redemption style.

He gives us a sheepish smile and shrugs. “Hey.”

Slim and I share a glance. Then Slim folds his arms and leans back in Rose’s chair. “Hey? You leave us to the mercy of a vicious street gang and over two months later you walk in and all you can say is ‘hey’?”

“Yeah.” Jay scratches his head. “I heard they shot up the shop. Sucks. But I had to get them off my back, so I told them I lived in the apartment above it.”

Slim grits his teeth. “Sucks indeed. What are you doing here?”

Jay stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Saw the sign on the door of your old place that you’d moved here. Since I never really quit…just took a bit of a break, I thought I’d…um…just get to work.”

Duncan gives a snort and Christos mumbles, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jay’s mouth gapes, and he looks at Slim. “If that’s…okay.”

“Don’t ask me. Ask the boss.” Slim points to me.

I look at him aghast. “I’m not the boss.”

“Are you seriously going to turn down Torment’s offer?” Slim says. “You’ve got what it takes to run this place. Everyone likes you. They respect you. You’re a talented artist. And you have a way with people that puts them at ease. Wasn’t that your dream?”

“I had a lot of dreams.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “So melodramatic. Redemption is full of dreams just waiting for you to grab them, and they don’t all look like a rough fighter who would move heaven and earth to have you.” He gestures to Jay and then winks at me. “Come on, Boss. At the very least, make my dream come true.”