Page 7 of Worth the Fight

She gasped at the same time, pointing a finger to a bed of ivy leaves, telling me that it’d be the perfect tattoo. The biggest portion will sit on my inner bicep, with a few of the strands swirling to wrap around my arm the same way my unborn child already has me wrapped around her fingers.

Candi and I have been throwing around names ever since we found out we’re having a baby girl. What better gift to give her the moment she arrives than to tattoo her on my skin?

There are a few additions Joe added in, some that we talked about prior and some shading. And when he asks me if there is anything I want to change, there’s a lump in my throat so large all I can do is shake my head no and hand the paper back to him.

“Naw, it’s perfect,” I grit out. “Let’s go.”

An hour later, I’m lying back in his chair with my left arm stretched out to my side as Joe works. My eyes are closed, practically falling asleep to the buzzing that fills my ears. The skin on my arm has nearly gone numb, and I forgot how therapeutic getting a tattoo can be.

I don’t think many people realize that until the needle meets their skin.

Yeah, it stings like a son-of-a-bitch depending on where you’re getting tatted but knowing that there’s something you’re going to mark on yourself forever, something that has meaning, something that you can look at years down the road and recall the memories that go along with it, makes any pain you feel worth it.

There’s commotion to my right, and when I open my eyes, there’s a mess of pink-tipped blonde hair blocking my view as Harper slides to my side in a rolling stool. “What did you decide on?” she asks, standing to lean over and look at the outline. “Holy shit, Lukas … I guess we aren’t getting cute matching tats today.”

“I’ll get the outline and shading done today, Lukas. You’ll have to come back another time for the color.” I nod to Joe, and when I look back at Harper, her eyes are still glued to my arm.

“There’s a sketch laying over there on the counter, if you want to see what it’ll look like with color.”

Harper stands, crossing in front of the chair and around Joe to grab the sketch from the counter. A small gasp leaves her lips. “Lukas…” She turns toward me, eyes wide. “For real, this is what you’re getting?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, no … not that.” She looks at the paper again, then back to me, then to the tattoo slowly forming on my skin. “It’s gorgeous, Lukas. Truly. The ivy is absolutely perfect, and I’m happy you’re finally getting something colorful. But the rest of it … um … well, let’s just say that was a bold choice, considering…”

“It’s a choice I feel good about. Something I can look back on twenty years down the road and smile over, you know?”

She bobs her head side to side. “When you look at it that way, you’ll surely have a constant reminder.”

I look her over from head to toe, wondering where her tattoo is. She was wearing a light jacket earlier, and it’s discarded now, draped over her arm along with her purse. I don’t see a tattoo peeking out from under her sleeves or on her wrist. Some girls get a tattoo on their side, or their hip, but Harper is wearing a short T-shirt, and I don’t see anything.

“Did you chicken out with the tat?” I ask, and she shakes her head no. I pause, waiting for her to show me, and when she doesn’t, I press forward. “Are … you going to show me? That’s usually how it works.”

She cocks her head to the side, a mischievous smile on her face. “I’d love to show you, but let’s just say it’s in a place that a brother wouldn’t want to see on his little sister.”

I scrunch my eyes shut, turning my head away. “Nope, nope. No, thanks.” Never in my wildest dreams did I think my baby sister would get a tattoo in a private place.

“Don’t act so grossed out, Lukas. I’m not fifteen anymore,” she points out. “I’m plenty old enough to get a cute tattoo in a place that someone’s only going to see if I want them to see. I also got some piercings that are private, if you really must know.”

I squeeze my eyes shut again, shaking my head the best I can while keeping my arm still. “I definitely didn’t need to know that Harps, but thanks.”

She groans, sitting on the stool but adjusting so she’s on one side of her butt. She leans over me, a little obnoxiously, might I add, but her gaze widens the more she watches Joe work.

I look up at my little sister, realizing that time is a damn thief. “You sure did grow up, didn’t ya, Harps?”

Another hour later, when my arm’s numb and ready to fall off, Joe finally shuts off his gun. He sprays my arm with something and swipes at it with a damp towel before leaning back to admire his work. “All right, Lukas. We did a lot more today than I had thought. It’s looking real good. Give it a week to heal, and we’ll get you set up to come back for some more color and shading.”

“Thanks again, Joe.” He knocked it out of the park, as usual. I raise my opposite hand, and he bounces his knuckles off mine.

Besides the few tattoos that my friends and I gave each other in the military, Joe has been the only one to tattoo my arm. It still surprises me that he’s able to make a living by owning a small shop in a town like Copper Ridge. But his work speaks for itself, and people have driven all the way out here from the city based on his reputation alone.

“Whatcha up to after this? Want to grab dinner?”

Harper has been leaning against the wall for the last half hour, scrolling through her phone in boredom. She doesn’t look up from her phone as she nods, and when I rise from the chair and stretch, she follows me to the front so I can pay Joe and get set up for next week.

“Depends,” she says, blowing a bubble with her gum and smacking it loudly. “You buying?”

I snicker at that. “Always.”