“I know. But I do. And I’ll teach you. I don’t want a masterpiece; I just want you to tattooProperty of Wrenon my upper thigh. Something between you and me so you’ll always know I see the balance if you wear the cut.”
“You’re serious?”
I nod. “You’re not a thing I truly own. I know that. No one could or should ever cage you like that. But you’re the home I choose every damn day.”
Tears glitter in Wren’s eyes. “You’re gonna make me cry on Christmas.”
“And you made me a red velvet cake,” I say as they slip the leather cut over their shoulders.
I tug Wren into my arms and kiss them, running my hands over the leather they’re wearing.
They pull back from me just an inch with a huge smile on their face “Well, then, I guess it’s only fair.”
EPILOGUE
JACKAL & SHADE
JACKAL
“There’s someone moving into that house across the street,” I say, curious about who our new neighbors are. The house is in dire need of a new roof, and some paint, and fresh stairs up to the porch.
According to the real estate agent, some old lady died in there. But we’ve never seen aFor Salesign.
There’s a van, but I haven’t seen the driver.
Shade, my partner of four years, looks up from his phone where he’s scrolling the sports news. “Yeah? Are they good looking?”
I laugh and flop down on the sofa next to him, resting my head on his shoulder to see how spring training is shaping up. “Why? You looking to replace me?”
“I mean, if he has better shoulders than you, yes.”
I punch him in the ribs. Hard. “My shoulders are perfect. And you and I both know we aren’t going anywhere.”
“I’m also too fucking old to start dating.”
I see the hair at his temples that just started to get the first hint of gray. “You’ll never be too old for me.”
Shade puts his phone down, then grabs me and drags me to sit over his hips. “Good,” he says, before putting his lips to mine.
But before I can sink into the kiss, I hear a gunshot, and the two of us sprint to the door, grabbing our own weapons from the shelf on the way out.
SHADE
“What the fuck?” I ask when we step outside and see two men standing by a beaten-up truck, one holding a rifle aimed at the van.
“Figured it was time I did what I should have done when all this bullshit started,” says a scrawny man with bad teeth. “Gimme the keys and get the fuck off this land.”
He’s wearing a navy-blue baseball cap over greasy dark hair.
A second man, younger, climbs out of the other side. He’s taller but like the other man, he looks gaunt. At a guess, I’d say they were father and son.
“It’s not fair all this went to you,” the second man says.
“You’ll get no peace as long as you stay here,” the older of the two says. “I’m gonna make sure of it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout, straining my neck to see who the hell he’s shouting at.
The second man, clad in a red-and-black jacket, turns to look at us. “Stay out of this, you?—”
