“I’m sure.” I’ve never been more certain of anything. Besides, it’s just two black bands around my finger. How painful can it be?
Reece has Aurora’s name on his head, for fuck’s sake. Jax has intricate wings across his shoulder blades. I got this.
The gun buzzes, and I count the ceiling tiles.
One. Two. Three. Four. Fi—fuck!
***
Jackson
I glance over at Reece, who’s admiring his new ink—Aurora’s name written in script from his temple to the base of his skull. Such a suck-up.
Next is my turn. Ethan has been gone nearly twenty minutes, and I’m getting antsy.
“What’s taking him so long?” I ask no one in particular. “It can’t be that complicated.”
“Maybe he chickened out,” Reece answers with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe he decided you’re not worth it.”
“Fuck you,” I retort, but it lacks any anger. My mind is too preoccupied with Ethan and what he might be getting. Something hidden, I bet. Something safe. “What if he fainted?”
“They’ll finish the tattoo while he’s asleep,” Cal jokes as he takes a seat at my station. “Got a picture?”
“Many.” I grab my phone and flip through photos. “This, on my collarbone.”
“That’s sick.” He takes the phone and zooms in. “I’ll need to send myself a few of these pics. That okay?”
“Yeah, but make sure it’sthisone.” I point to the bite mark I’ve been obsessing over since the day Ethan and I first kissed.
Reece snorts. “It’s his teeth, Romeo. They haven’t changed in thirty years.”
“The placement is slightly different, fuckface,” I shout back before removing my shirt. “Has he always been a dickhead?” I ask his soon-to-be brother-in-law.
Cal chuckles while preparing the transfer paper. “Since day one. We were deployed together. He was the most serious motherfucker I’d ever met—stoic, by the book. He didn’t talk unless it was to correct someone or give orders, but you’d want him by your side. Nobody was better.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I agree. The Viking might be an asshole—sometimes—but he did take a bullet for me. “You just can’t trust him with your girlfriend,” I tease to lighten the mood.
“I can hear you.” Reece adjusts the ice pack on his scalp. “Pay no attention to a thing he says, Cal. They were separated.”
I grind my molars. “I’m going to separate your teeth from your gums if you don’t stop repeating that.”
Cal bursts into laughter. “You two are a riot.” He positions the transfer sheet on my collarbone and presses firmly. “I can’t imagine you living together.”
Me neither, but here we are, living and sleeping together, sharing a life.
A door swings open, and Ethan emerges, white as a ghost. He stumbles toward us, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his jaw clenched tight, his throat working hard.
“Oh, shit. You okay, big guy?” I reach for him, careful not to disturb Cal. “Come here.”
“I’m fine,” Ethan mutters, but his voice lacks its usual confidence. He collapses into the chair beside me, and his head falls to my bare stomach. With a grimace, he extracts his hands from his pockets and holds them gingerly in his lap.
Eager and impatient, I demand, “Let me see.”
“It’s nothing,” he insists, eyes squeezed shut. “Later.”
“Bullshit.” I run my fingers through his newly trimmed hair. “Show me.”
He slowly lifts his left hand. His ring finger is wrapped in clear plastic, two bold black bands encircling it.
