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"Put an accountant on the list of people you'll want to reach out to," Evan proposes after a moment of thinking. "Because I have no fucking idea if merchandise counts as a donation or if a shelter can have an income."

"Ugh." I bury my face in my hands. "I only wanted to rescue animals. Why does it come with so much fucking paperwork?"

"Because that's what being an adult is." Hannah pats my shoulder with an empathetic smile.

"Well, I hate being an adult." I pout and rub my temples. This is already giving me a headache.

Chapter 19

Kieran

"So, how much longer until you deem your studio sterile enough to jam ink into my skin again?" I ask Evan, leaning my butt against his reception counter.

There's still a hint of smoke in the air, but his tattoo studio seems pretty okay. His windows are even see-through again. The voice notes he left me when he got to cleaning them are secured in the cloud, because there were too fucking funny to listen to. I was contemplating grabbing a camping chair, a coffee, and setting up in front of his shop to spectate.

Like the helpful and gleeful friend I am.

I’d feel worse about it if I didn’t know he’d do the exact same thing were the roles reversed.

"The cleaners are coming in tomorrow," he declares and puts on his black leather jacket. "But if you're still coughing the same way you are today..." He pats my shoulder as he brushes past me. "We’ll have to revisit the conversation in the new year because I'm not tattooing you when you're sick."

"You're so overreacting." I cough into the crease of my elbow. Dick nudges my thigh as if to say, ‘Shut the hell up.’ "I might be catching a cold, but I'm fine."

If I were smarter, I’d keep my skin free until the next emotional turmoil season. There’s no way I’ll spend a year of my life with only one tattooed ass cheek though.

"Kieran." Evan turns to me and puts his hand on my shoulder, expression more serious than I’ve seen in a while. "You are a good friend, but whenever you're sick, I fight the urge to drive to wherever you are and end you myself. You are so whiny. Now add pain from a freshly inked tattoo. Trust me." He shakes his head, lets go and opens the door for me. "It's better this way."

"Oh, man." I pout and walk outside, Dick right behind me. Since his studio is getting a deep clean anyway, he allowed my dog to come along this one time. “For the record, you’re also a whiny bitch. May I remind you-“ I search for the quote in my library of enemies. “’I think this is it, Kieran. I see a light. Grandma is waving at me.’”

“It was my grandpa and I swear I saw him.” He died before Evan and I became friends, so I highly doubt it. Unless there’s a ghost going around his parents’ house, because obviously he pulled the ‘mommy I’m so sick’ card to have her care for him. And I’m totally not jealous.

But who knows at this point? Maybe there is a ghost. Stranger things have happened in Wayward Hollow.

"Rest in peace and all that. Anyway, I was hoping to get the tattoos done ASAP. Start the new year with fresh video formats and all that."

"Trust me, I hope we get them done soon, too." He shakes his head and locks the door. Rude.

Cold winter air creeps its way through my leather jacket and sweatshirt. Lonely snowflakes fall from the sky, dancing in the streetlamp light. It might only be afternoon, but it's getting dark so early.

Kinstead has pulled out its Christmas decorations. Fairy lights are strung between windows on the first and second floors, and almost every door in town has a wreath on it. Even Brooke's shelter, though her front door is where the décor ends.

And in the middle of the jolly little town lies the completely black town square. It is burnt to a crisp. Coal-black remains hidden under a powdery layer of snow, almost dust-like. It’s eerie, very ‘the end of the world is coming and this is what awaits you.’

"How are you dealing with everything?" Evan asks, and bumps my shoulder to our right.

"What do you mean, ‘with everything’?" I clear my throat and gently pull on Dick’s leash so he won’t eat whatever he found on the ground.

"Oh, you know." He shrugs. "My sister's crush on you. The yearly blues you get every single year around Christmas because you miss your family."

"Evan," I say with an eye-roll and bump against him, trying to make him run into the streetlight. But he stops right in time, so I almost run into it instead.

Damn. He knows me too well.

Hold on. His sister’s crush on me? Is he kidding?

I cough into my elbow again. "I'm doing okay." If you ignore the numb sting in the back of my throat and that soft thumping behind my temples. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Evan chuckles and directs us to the ice cream parlor.