I showed up twenty minutes early, the studio door already unlocked like he’d known I wouldn’t be able to wait. My hands shook as I pushed it open. The bell didn’t even chime—just a soft click that felt louder than it should. The place was quiet, dim, only the low amber light spilling from the private room at the back. Ink and cedar and him. That smell hit me like a drug.

No small talk. I didn’t say hello. Didn’t ask if he was ready.

I walked straight through, kicked the door shut behind me, and locked it.

My fingers went to the hem of my sweater. Pulled it over...