“The asshole is gone,” I say conversationally as I climb back into bed and tug her close, wrapping my arm around her waist.
She settles into my chest without hesitation, but I can feel the uncertainty in the way her body moves—how she doesn’t quite know where we stand now. Hell,Idon’t know either.
What Idoknow is that I hate every word that came out of Dhimitër’s mouth. Hate that he made her doubt this. Hate that he referred to her like she was nothing but a mistake. Even though I’m still trying to make sense of what is happening between us, it sure as shit isn’t that.
Her right hand lands on my chest, tentative at first, then drifts up to my dog tag. She lifts the worn metal for a closer look, and I glance down at her, watching her lips purse as she reads the words engraved there. Words I remember by heart—I don’t think I’ll ever forget them.
To my sonshine,
Never forget that I love you.
I hope you believe in yourself
As much as I believe in you.
Atë and I will always have your back.
I’m proud to be your mother.
Love, mama.
I got it on my sixth birthday, right after Elira was born. I had thought it was the coolest thing in the world back then and never took it off. But as I grew older, it became less cool, less acceptable to wear jewelry with your mother’s love letter engraved on it. So I took it off, shoved it in a drawer, forgot about it.
Until she died.
My throat tightens uncomfortably. I hope Katie doesn’t tryto ask me any questions about it. I’m not ready to open that wound tonight.
She glances up at me, her eyes darkening as a complex play of emotions crosses her face. Wordlessly, she leans down and presses a gentle, reverent kiss on the pendant, and my breath catches hard in my throat. Fuck. Why does she have to be so… so… fucking perceptive and understanding?
Her fingers slip from the dog tag and trail down my abdomen, turning to explore my arm. She traces the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, grazing the ink there, and the tension that’s been coiled tight in my chest loosens a little under that soft, curious touch.
The lines hold her attention for a long moment as she follows each one with the tip of her finger. Then she looks up at me. “What’s this?”
I glance down at my arm to see which tattoo she’s referring to.
Her touch returns, slower this time, her thumb brushing over the intricate design of my nightshade tattoo—the black and white foxglove with its bright green stem that wraps from the inside of my elbow down to the middle of my forearm.
The monochrome flower is bound in thin but gnarly thorns, and just below it, like leaves falling from a shaken branch, three blue bell-shaped petals drop towards the words inked above my wrist in looping Albanian script—Nuk qaj, luftoj për të.
“What does it mean?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“The flowers I got last year, a few months after Elira’s marriage to Maximo.” After accepting that my sister had become a Nightshade, Rafael and the others called a meeting and asked me to choose a nightshade tattoo—not to prove my allegiance to them, but to demonstrate my acceptance of the group.
Over time, that choice shifted something in me. I’ve come tothink of them as family, whether official or not. And deep down, I know if I ever needed them, they’d be there for me, just as I’d be there for them. That’s what family is about, isn’t it?
Katie nods slowly, understanding washing over her face without me having to explain further. I’m sure she knows all about the Nightshades and the symbolism behind their tattoos.
“And this?” She runs her index finger over the Albanian words.
“‘I don’t cry, I fight for her,’” I quote, eyes fixed on the slightly faded letters. “I got it after my mother’s death.” After I started wearing the dog tag again. But I needed something more permanent as a tribute to her. Something that would last as long as I did.
“You were close with her?” she asks softly, carefully, like she’s afraid one wrong syllable will set something off inside me.
“Yeah.” I pause, remembering how fiercely she always looked out for me. I was barely a teenager when she was killed, but we were tight. “We didn’t always agree on everything. She andAtëfought constantly because she didn’t want me following in his footsteps.”
A small, involuntary smile tugs at my mouth.
It was a silly wish. I couldn’t have been anything else but what I am now.
