“When isn’t he?” I say with a sigh, casting my gaze in his direction to find a smirk curling his lips.
I smile back, letting the tension ease from my limbs as I turn my attention to my window, watching as the world flies by. Seconds stretch into minutes, which meld into an eternity as he navigates the highway before turning off at the next town over. My eyebrows pinch together in confusion, wondering where on Earth he’s going, when I remember why I called him panicked instead of just waiting for him to arrive like usual.
“I’m sorry. I know you were busy tonight,” I mutter, guilt gnawing at me, but he waves me off.
“It’s good.” The sincerity is there in his voice, but he keeps his gaze dead ahead.
He had plans, plans that I trashed because I can’t help but create chaos. Plans that he quickly ignored the moment I needed him.
“It’s not. I’m?—”
“Do you want a distraction?” he interjects, his eyes cutting to mine, and I pause a moment to take him in. His worn jacket strains against his outstretched arm, fingers curled around the steering wheel. His white tee frames his neck in a way that should not be attractive.
I shake my head, yanking myself from my thoughts. I’ve tried once; the rejection stung enough for me not to be stupid again.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, folding my hands in my lap as he grins at me.
“Do you trust me?” His words hang in the air like a beacon in the night, a lighthouse guiding me to shore.
“You’re the only person I trust.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, he pulls into a parking stall a little farther down the road, his eyes fixed on me as I try to gather my bearings.
Sweeping my hair back off my face, I look up and down the dimly lit street, noting how most of it is closed at this time, but the shop right beside us is still bright with a neon sign up top.
Inkie.
“A tattoo shop?” I blurt in question, and he grins, sliding from his seat and rounding the front of the truck before I even consider reaching for my door handle. He’s filling the space a moment later, a cool chill sweeping over me as I stare at his hand extended in my direction.
No words, just trust.
I slip my palm against his as he helps me out of the truck, but as he heads toward the shop, his hand stays wrapped around mine. Heat tingles up my neck as we head inside, where a burly guy sits at a counter.
“Walker.” The man stands, shaking hands with my friend, who releases his grasp to aim a finger toward me.
“Tony, is there any way we can make the appointment for two?” The burly guy, or Tony, I should say, rakes his eyes over me from head to toe twice before glancing back at Walker.
“What does she want?” he asks, and I purse my lips, hating that he doesn’t ask me directly. Walker must sense my irritation because his hand tightens around me.
“She’ll have the same as me,” he explains, and the guy nods in understanding.
I’m silent, nerves getting the better of me as we’re directed to the back of the shop, where there’s a large area set up that will accommodate two people getting tattoos at the same time. Like the puppet I am, I let Walker snap the hair tie from my wrist and work my hair into a messy bun on top of my head before guiding me to lean against the chair and tapping against the back of my neck.
He sits across from me, arm braced against the black, padded table as another guy enters the room. Tony and his friend set up their supplies, but I stare at Walker the entire time. The first time I’m drawn away from his intense stare is when the tattoo gun touches my skin.
I take in a shaky breath, my eyes blown wide, but his presence keeps me calm while the bite of the gun tingles over my skin, reigniting the adrenaline that was pumping through my veins earlier. It’s almost addicting, the feeling consuming every inch of me so much that I don’t realize how much time passes until someone pats me on the shoulder, confirming I’m done.
Tearing my eyes away from my friend, I clear my throat and stand on wobbly legs as Tony’s friend leads me toward a mirror. With a small hand mirror, he offers me a glimpse ofthe first ink to grace my skin. I say first, because I already know I will need to feel that sensation again. Staring at it in wonder, tears threaten to spill as I memorize every line and curve.
A dove is inked into my flesh, wings broad and free.
It’s what I hope to be one day.
I fucking love it.
Glancing at Walker, I stare in disbelief when I see the exact same tattoo on his skin.
He smiles at me and it warms my heart as I grin back at him. Despite the madness that surrounds me, I feel safe, grounded, and content in this moment with him. He reaches for my hand, and as I press my palm against his, the warming sensation ripples up my arm, spreading even hotter this time.
