Three hours of driving and I’m still a fucking mess. I can’t tell if I’m sad or pissed off.
Theo’s phone has been chiming nonstop from a steady stream of texts. I don’t have to think hard at who could be texting him. Anniston is freaking out and I feel slightly guilty for leaving the way I did. She doesn’t deserve my wrath.
Breck does.
Lying, scheming Breck.
At first, I couldn’t put it together. The dog tags in her bag … I thought maybe they were the designer necklaces that imitated dog tags, but then I saw the engraving. The name.
Bennett Brannon.
The greenie I took under my wing. The youngster that admired me more than he should have.
His sister.
His sexy fucking sister has been in my bed this entire time. How did I not put two and two together?
Because you blocked out everything that reminded you of your past, asshole.
She said she came for me. To help me. The lie sounded beautiful slipping out of her mouth. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and listen to her teary explanation, but I knew better. I know what I did—who I am.
I’m a killer.
A disgrace to my country—to my men.
She didn’t come for me. She came to stare into the eyes of her brother’s killer.
I just can’t figure out why she stayed so long. Why befriend the other guys? They had no part in what I did all those years ago.
“I have to take a leak.”
Theo’s voice loosens my grip on the steering wheel. He’s been silent until now. And had it not been for his phone chiming every thirty seconds, I would have forgotten he was in the truck.
“Too bad,” I tell him, forcing my eyes on the horizon. The sun is setting and I still have another hour and a half before I reach my destination. I don’t remember making the conscious decision or where I was heading. It was like my truck just knew what I needed to do.
Theo smacks my free arm off the console, takes the bottled water from the cup holder, and chugs the last of it before unzipping his pants.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my foot easing off the gas in case I need to make an emergency stop.
“I’m about to piss in this bottle since you won’t stop.” Theo shoots me a questionable look, waiting for me to agree. Fucking with Theo usually puts me in a better mood but his stupid look does nothing for me today.
I shrug, glancing at the bottle in his hand, and then look back to the road. “Go ahead. Don’t make a mess.”
It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and he throws the bottle, hitting me on the side of the head. “Pull over, Jameson. You’ve had enough whiny-bitch time. I’m hungry and need food to endure any more of this self-loathing.”
Grunting, I ignore him, keeping my eyes on the road. I’m not self-loathing. Much.
“Are you going to let me look at your neck?” he asks out the blue, shocking me.
“No.”
“So you enjoy looking like a crazy person, then?”
I let out a sigh, knowing he isn’t going to shut up about it. “I’ll clean it up in the bathroom when we stop.”
Theo eyes me with something like concern. “Will you give me the knife?”
I jerk back the tiniest bit. “I’m not suicidal,” I clarify.
His brows arch high up his forehead. “No?” He fingers the dried blood on my neck, and I swat his hand away.
“I was caught up in the moment,” I lie. I really wanted her to hurt me, to punish me for taking away her brother. Her family. Maybe I didn’t want her to kill me, but I wanted the pain I carry on the inside to match the pain on the outside. I wanted to bleed for her.
Theo makes an exasperated sound. “I think you’re full of shit. Hand over the knife, Jameson.”
For the first time in the almost two years I have known Theo, he looks like he might actually beat my ass. He’s serious. No jokes, no ploys, no comments.
“I promise, I’m not suicidal,” I tell him again, my tone becoming softer.
He nods. “I believe you, but just in case, how ‘bout you give it to me anyway?”
I deserve to be treated like a baby. It was a stupid thing to do. I scared Anniston and apparently Theo. After everything they’ve done for me, they don’t deserve this behavior. I make a show of being annoyed, and fish the knife out of my pocket, slapping it into Theo’s palm.
“Happy now?”
Theo turns the knife over in his hand and then looks at me. “No, Jameson. I’m not happy.” Then he tosses my knife out the window.
“What the fuck?” I shout.
“What the fuck?” he bellows back at me. “The fuck is that you’ve come a long way, Jameson, and the girl tells you she’s your dead teammate’s sister and you go all Carrie on her ass. Drama queen much?”
My breathing falters. “You and Anniston knew who she was?”
Theo shrugs, clearly not guilty about keeping the secret from me.
“I oughta beat your ass,” I tell him, tapping the brakes, ready to pull over and take out some anger on his pretty face. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I roar.
Theo throws me a side glance. “Do you remember when Lou had Anniston at gunpoint in the barn?” I nod, not seeing how this is relevant. “Well, if I recall correctly, you wouldn’t allow me to know your plans on getting her out.” I go to argue and he holds a finger up. “I specifically recall you having Tim babysit me so I wouldn’t, and I quote, ‘Do something stupid.’” His eyebrows raise, indicating that he would like for me to acknowledge that his recollection is accurate.
“That was different,” I argue.
“No, it wasn’t. Anniston noticed you stalking the poor girl every weekend so she had me ask Thor to check her out. The report came back with a lot more than we expected. Including your parents.”
Thor, Theo’s retired security, dug into my past? My head drops to my chest. “Anniston knows about my parents?”
Theo laughs. “Of course she does.”
“Why didn’t she bring it up?”
Theo shrugs one of his massive shoulders. “She wanted you to want to tell her yourself.”
Fuck. “That still doesn’t make it right that you both kept who Breck really was from me,” I argue fruitlessly at this point.
Theo eyes me curiously. “Are you sure? Because I think we all knew how you would react. Anniston simply wanted to make sure she wasn’t some kind of psycho for your sake and for the sake of the rest of the house. Do we regret keeping it from you?” His lip quirks. “No, we don’t. You would have never given Breck a chance. You would have shut down and ran just like you did all those years ago. Am I right?”
I want to say no. I want to argue and say they didn’t know me at all, but the truth is, he’s right. I would have kicked Breck to the curb without hesitation. Like I just did.
“You shouldn’t have taken the option away from me,” I say, sighing.
Theo’s eyes blaze for a minute. “Didn’t you ask me to put my girl’s life in your hands two years ago? Didn’t you take the option away from me? For my own good?”
I swallow, remembering the statement clearly. “Yes.”
Theo nods. “I returned the favor. Except I saved you from yourself. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made, but Anniston and I only had good intentions. And it wasn’t our secret to tell. Breck deserved a chance.”
“Did she tell you why she was here?”
“No. We assumed it had something to do with Bennett, but we weren’t sure.”
I flash him a smirk. “What if she was trying to kill me?”
Theo snorts. “We thought you could take her.”
I laugh, the sound foreign to my own ears. “I hate you sometimes,” I lie to the bastard who has become one of my best friends.
“The feeling is mutual, Jameson. Now can we please stop for food? I’m fucking dying over here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell him, pulling off the exit. “Where do you want to stop?”
Theo doesn’t look at me when he says, “You pick since it’s your birthday.”
Well, I’ll be damned. “Don’t go getting soft on me now, Von Bremen.”
He flips me off but stays silent until I choose the place, pulling into a burger joint. I head to the bathroom first, cleaning up the exaggerated scratch on my neck before meeting Von Bremen at the counter to order food. He glances at my neck briefly, and I cut him a bland look. It’s not that bad. I got caught up in the moment. I won’t allow it to happen again. Theo chooses not to engage in conversation, but when he pays for our food, I can’t help but break the awkwardness. “I think this is the most romantic birthday date I’ve ever had, Von Bremen. I hope you don’t expect head after it.”
The lady manning the counter clears her throat, her eyes growing wide as she hands Theo his change.
“Jameson, I expect head after I text you. If I buy you dinner, I expect you on all fours.” His tone is flat and serious, and the poor girl at the counter is blushing.
“He’s joking,” I tell her with a laugh. Theo grabs our cups off the counter and slams mine into my chest so hard it flattens in half before tossing over his shoulder, “I’m glad to see you have your sense of humor back. I was wondering if you were gonna act like a pussy all night.”
He brushes past me, filling his cup with ice and hopefully nothing with sugar in it. I don’t know if I can handle him being overly hyper tonight. I’m slightly embarrassed and highly amused when I approach the same cashier and ask her for another cup. She nods her head quickly and hands me another.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Sorry about all that.”
She smiles, and when I turn to get myself something to drink I hear, “Holy shit, they’re hot.”
The compliment momentarily brightens my day. It used to only piss me off if a woman thought I was hot, but now, after Breck, something has changed. I find it sweet.
“Why are you smiling? That girl call you an asshole or something?” Theo is lounging at a table in the corner, his feet on my bench. I shove them off, the impact of them hitting the floor echoing in the sparse fast-food joint.
“You know they don’t bring the food out to you, right?”
The look Theo gives me says one thing: Wanna bet?
A few minutes later, the same girl at the counter brings our food out with a bounce in her step. “Here you are, gentlemen,” she says.
Theo quirks his lips and actually thanks her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
I chuckle. This motherfucker. “Sweetheart?” I ask him in disbelief after she leaves. “You never say sweetheart.”
“Well, one of us has to be the gentleman, Jameson, and you’re too busy being the whiny bitch today so I took one for the team.”
He took one for the team. The simple statement hits me straight in the soul.
My team.
Not the one that died, but the one in front of me.
The one in Madison, Georgia.
My family.
Breck.
“Do you believe her?” I ask him after a minute, my tone solemn.
Mid-bite, Theo looks up from his burger and fries, swallowing down a massive amount of food. “Who? B?”
I give him a terse chin jerk. “Yeah, B. Do you believe she came here to help me?”
Theo takes a second, chewing his food carefully after taking another huge bite. “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Jameson. It matters what you believe. But for the record, I don’t think she came here seeking revenge.”
I pick up my burger after that, both of us eating dinner in silence until his phone rings, vibrating the table. He looks at it and then looks at me.
“Ans?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “B.” My gut churns as we watch his phone vibrate on the table, going unanswered. When it finally stops, he sighs. “You should call her.”
“She deserves better,” is all I can manage to say.
My parents’ house sits in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by large oaks and Spanish moss along the Georgia coast. Jekyll Island, known for its peaceful atmosphere, was known as Satan’s time-out corner to Drew and I. In other words, it was boring as fuck.
But it was home.
The sulfuric smell pulls me right back to the most epic years of my childhood.
Bike rides to Driftwood beach, pretending we were Navy Seals rescuing some hot chick who had been captured by evil villains, walkie talkies and camp-outs underneath the canopy of stars. The break of the waves against the retaining wall lulling us to sleep was better than any lullaby Anne had ever sang to us. We were boys pretending to be men. Rebels in a quiet neighborhood made up of mostly retirees. Friends turned brothers over the course of the summer.
The American flag waves at me from their front yard. It still stands, never falling, never surrendering. The light underneath shines bright as a lighthouse, like a beacon calling us home.
“She still has it flying,” I murmur under my breath to Theo, who over the course of thirty minutes has become increasingly antsy.
“Hmm …” is all he says, texting something on his phone.
I feel my lips pull into a half frown. “What’s your deal? You’ve been acting weird since we got back on the road.” His gaze is slow to meet mine when I put the truck in park, right behind a sedan in my parents’ driveway.
“I don’t know, Jameson, you tell me. You upset the girls. Took off without a word to anyone, and now we’re hours away from home at your parents’ house who you didn’t call to tell you were coming and who you haven’t spoken to in five years.” He gives me a flat look. “Oh no, I’m fine. Everything is fucking peachy.”
If I were to shove him, I think I could do it without breaking my truck window. “You didn’t have to—”
The front door opens and the woman who accepted me into her home with no hesitation appears at the door with a confused expression on her face. The sun sets behind her, making her look like an angel.
Theo sighs before stepping out of the truck and mumbling, “Just know this was all Anniston’s idea. They just happened to like me.”
What? What the fuck does that mean? Before I can ask him, Theo jumps out of the truck and sprints to my mom hollering, “Mama Jameson!” Her entire face lights up, wrapping Theo’s ass in her arms and kissing him on the cheek like they have known each other forever. Like he’s her son.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
His words sink in. It was all Anniston’s idea. She’s been keeping tabs on my parents. I can only assume when my dad steps out, shaking Theo’s hand and showing him something on the porch that has Theo nodding, that I realize they’ve been taking care of them, too.
My stomach flips, but it’s not nerves. It’s guilt. I’ve been so fucking selfish in my self-loathing that my friends, my family, had to step up and take care of my parents for me. I hate myself. I don’t deserve the Jameson name given to me by these people. I deserve to be called a Davis. They were selfish. They are the family I deserve, not the ones standing on the porch, staring back at me, waiting.
“Come on, Jameson.” Theo hollers from the steps. “Mama Jameson made peanut butter cookies and I don’t care how traumatic your birthday has been. I will eat every single one of them without remorse.”
She made my cookies.
She knew we were coming.
Fucking Theo.
He knew where I was heading because he’s been here before, and from the relaxed stance he’s sporting, he’s been here many, many times.
A spark hits me in my soul. Like flicking a lighter, Anniston and Theo, even Breck, have been trying to spark it within me. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for the old Cade to return. And in the driveway of my childhood home, I finally catch flame.
Whatever I’ve done, whatever sins I’ve committed, it’s time to own them. It’s time to make amends.
It’s time to live up to his name.
My name.
The Jameson name.
I take out my phone and pull up Anniston’s number, typing the only thing I can manage. Thank you. We’ll be home soon. She’ll know what it means.
And then I send one more before I get out, to Breck. I’m sorry.
I toss my phone in the cup holder and get out of the truck. I stand awkwardly with my hands in my pockets until my father takes a step down the stairs. With weighted steps, I follow the path of the driveway, my father matching me step for step until we meet in the middle.
The man who looks nothing like me, with his gray hair and blue eyes, slightly shorter by a few inches, stands tall in front of me. His chin quivers as he takes me in, his tired eyes roaming over all of me as if checking that I’m in one piece. I straighten, waiting for the anger, the backlash, the pain of killing his only son when he holds his hand out for me to shake. “Welcome home, son.”
An ache I feel on a daily basis spreads along my chest, up my forehead, and I know without a single doubt that this man in front of me is not blaming me. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks puffy, his arm slightly trembles in front of me as I take him in one more time before I clasp his hand in a firm grip like he taught me. “Dad.”
The man that taught me how to be a good man yanks me to him, enveloping me in a tight hug, his chest silently heaving against my own. We stand there for a minute, me savoring his strength, and him … well, I don’t know what he’s savoring but he stands there and allows us to get it together before he pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Now go hug your mother. We’ve been worried sick.”
He steps back and salutes me, and it’s all I can do to keep my composure. With less than perfect form, I return his salute, and bark out, “Yes, sir,” which puts a smile on his face.
We turn and walk quietly to my mother. Theo went inside at some point and got a cookie, because he’s shoving the majority of it in his mouth with a smug smile on his face, but I don’t charge him or flip him off like usual. Instead, I have eyes for only one person. And she’s standing there, holding her chest with tears streaming down her face.
“My boy,” she says softly, her hands twitching like she wants to reach out and touch me but isn’t sure if she should.
“Mama,” I return, a sad smile forming. I hope she knows how sorry I am for being such a bastard. I swallow when I’m within her reach. “Mama, I’m so sorry—”
Anne Jameson snatches me by the collar and pulls me to her chest, nearly knocking the breath out of me. “Happy Birthday, baby,” she cries into my neck, my arms flexing around this woman for the first time in five years. After a few pinches, like she’s checking to be sure I’m really in her arms, she pulls away, swiping at her eyes. “Come inside before Theo eats all your cookies.”
Laughter bubbles out of me as my mom disappears through the front door with my dad. I place a hand on Theo’s shoulder and stop him before we go in. I don’t know what I want to say to him, this whole day being a clusterfuck of emotions. “I, uh …”
Theo blinks and then arches a brow, shoving the last of the cookie in his mouth with a shitty grin. “The porn collection in your closet is rather eclectic. Tell me, did you try the one where she sixty-nines you from—”
I punch him hard in the shoulder, cutting off the rest of what he would have said. The bad part is I knew exactly what he was referring to which means he’s definitely been rooting around in my room. But instead of being angry, I feel peaceful. I feel complete. Like for once, the hollowness that usually embeds itself in my chest is full.
I push past Theo, stepping foot in the house I never thought I would see again, and throw behind me to my brother, “Stay out of my fucking room, Von Bremen.”
After spending the night at my parents’ and enduring a small birthday celebration with all my favorite foods, Theo retired up to my room—probably having phone sex with Anniston—and gave my parents and me some much-needed privacy. To talk. To cry.
In the living room, in the comfort of my mother’s arms, I finally come clean to my parents about what happened to their son, minus the journalist part. Some things you just don’t admit.
My father is the one who inevitably does me in. He comes to me on the couch and kneels at my feet, raising my chin with his strong fingertips. “He would be appalled that you think you would have saved him.”
His statement makes me chuckle because it’s absolutely true. Drew never needed saving. He blazed in situations with the soul of a true badass. He was fearless. And a damn fine Marine.
“True. But at least we could have been together,” I say, regret spilling out of me one breath at a time.
My father makes this exasperated noise and my mother whimpers. “Is that what he would have wanted, Cade? For you to have died with him? For us to have been left without either of you?”
I swallow, staring at my father’s hard eyes. I’ve been a dumbass thinking they never wanted to see me again. “I thought you hated me,” I tell him quietly.
My mother pinches my side, causing me to flinch. “You better not say what I think you’re trying to say. Are kidding me, Cade? All this time … all the waiting…” She cries, and I pull her to me, ashamed of myself for never facing the truth. I should have given them their moment of rage or forgiveness. I took the choice from them by running.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I was an idiot.”
My mama pinches me and sniffles. “You sure were. We suffered for four years until Anniston contacted us. Four years, Cade!”
Only four years? I’ve been gone five and a half years. That would have meant Anniston and Theo knew about my parents long before Breck came along. “If it hadn’t been for Anniston sending us updates on you, we would have gone insane with worry.”
And now I know that’s what Anniston was doing. But honestly, I’m not even mad about it. I’m glad she and Theo took care of them when I couldn’t, when I could barely take care of myself. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t bear to face you after what I had done to Drew.”
Tears leak from my mother’s eyes but she doesn’t make a noise. “We wanted to come to you,” she sniffles softly. “But Anniston asked us to wait until you were ready. She said you would come to us.”
I scoff at her true statement. “Anniston tends to get what she wants one way or another.” In this case, predicting that I would eventually find my way back home.
My mother smiles. “She’s a sweet girl. She and Theo have been so nice to us.”
A grunt of disappointment in myself is the only sound I can respond with until my father gets up, his old knees popping with the motion. “We talked with Theo, and he thought it was time we gave you this.” Andrew Senior pulls a tattered letter from his pocket, and with great reverence, places it into my palm. “They delivered it with his things, when you were on the street.” He drops his head, willing the emotion back before continuing, “We couldn’t contact you, otherwise we would have. But then you were doing better at the Foundation and Theo thought it was best we wait.”
Fucking Theo.
Emotion sits thick in my chest like a bad cold when I clutch the dirty letter in my hand. I know what it is, and there is a part of me that doesn’t want to know what’s in it, and yet, a part of me craves to read his final words. “Thank you,” I mumble, staring at the letter like it holds the key to my sanity. “I’m so sorry,” I plead with my father, hugging my mother closer. “I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.”
My mother squeezes me, placing a kiss on my forehead, taking my father’s hand. “You’re home now. And that’s all that matters to us.”
My father claps me on the back. “You’re a Jameson. Nothing in the world would change that, Cade.”
My face feels damp. Is that …?
A tear.
Goddammit.
I swipe it away, holding my parents’ gaze as they stand in front of me. “I understand that now, sir.”
My father claps me on the back, my mother stroking my face once more like she’s memorializing it. “Get some sleep,” he says. “We’ll see you in the morning.” It wasn’t a question. Andrew Sr. quite literally gave me a look of death like if he doesn’t see my ass bright and early in the morning, he will hunt me down.
“Yes, sir.”
When they retire upstairs, I take several deep breaths. I think about waking up Theo and having a drink, but ultimately, I stay where I am on the sofa. I unfold the note and read until the words blur in front of my face.
Cade,
Can you believe the heat out here? Motherfucker, man. I will never be able to knock up a girl and force her to marry me with all my swimmers burnt the fuck up.
I know I’m dead when you’re reading this and it’s supposed to be some kind of sad, heartfelt goodbye note—I’m sure yours is very ass-kissing and will make our parents proud—but I’m not going to go out in a ball of mush.
So here it is.
My final words to you.
1) You suck.
2) I don’t know who you blew to make major because you definitely didn’t make it on your skills alone.
3) Sleeping next to you while you jerk off is still awkward. No, I wasn’t asleep, asshole.
4) Meghan, that chick from down the street, said I was a better lay than you were, so ha! She also said she was into girls so she might not be my best example. I was going through a dry spell.
5) You still suck at video games and your deadlifts lack the correct form.
But I guess if I’m dead, I can be honest with you. You weren’t too terrible to have around. You built some great forts and made Mom happy eating all her apple pies. You didn’t snore and you kicked Micah’s ass for me in the sixth grade. I still say I could have taken him.
It’s been an honor to be your brother.
Take care of Mom and Dad and find a girl to marry you. Bribe her if you need to. You aren’t getting any prettier.
Take care of yourself.
I’m watching you, motherfucker.
Drew
I empty the bottle of whiskey my dad keeps stashed away until I pass out.
Theo wakes me in the morning with a smug ass smile and a cup of coffee. It takes me a while to say goodbye to my parents, promising I will return soon and stay longer. They are eager to meet all the guys, and the new lady in my life Anniston has been telling them about.
Breck.
Another wrong I need to right.
But before I prepare to grovel, I ask Theo to make one more stop with me.
“This place looks like it’s crawling with incurable diseases, Jameson. Are you sure it’s reputable?”
Theo is chewing at his fingernail all wide-eyed, giving everything in this hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor a thorough once-over. I almost want to make fun of him for it, but honestly, I’m a little nervous too—it does look a little rough.
The walls are covered in laminated drawings—a shrine to the artists’ work. From dragons to Betty Boop, gang signs to praying hands, not an inch of sheetrock shows through this thousand-square-foot building. It’s clean, though, housing two open chairs for piercings and non-private tattoos. Three other chairs are in back rooms with a shower curtain pulled across, improvising as a door.
The overall feel of the place is one hundred percent Drew. I didn’t tell Theo my brother has a history with this place. I just asked with a clogged throat if he would make one more stop with me. He nodded only once, buckled in, and turned on the radio. Now, though, after sensing I’m okay and not on the brink of a meltdown, his friend game is on.
“Chad is an old friend. I trust his word,” I answer, vaguely tracing over one of the sketched doves on the wall.
Theo’s face scrunches up, the lines in his forehead creasing in concentration like he’s trying to read into my words and extract the truth from them.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, tracing another image in the hope he’ll get distracted and move on. My friend, Chad, is bullshit. I don’t have a friend named Chad, but Theo doesn’t know that and I’m not in the mood to explain it to him in the middle of this questionable tattoo parlor.
“Now I know for sure I’ll have to get a tetanus shot when we get home.” He rubs his arm in a grimace before morphing it into a lazy smile. “I’m not stupid, Jameson. You have zero friends. You found this place online and read the hell out of the Yelp reviews before making an appointment. Chad is a reviewer. Am I right?”
I’m struggling to keep a straight face. Bastard. “Why did I bring you, again?” I ask with a chuckle.
Theo’s smile is a full-on grin by this point. “Because I’m the only friend you have, and in a few hours when Hep C sets in, you’ll need me to take you to the ER and convince Breck you weren’t getting a fifty-dollar quickie on Moreland Avenue by some STD-ridden hooker.”
I punch him in the arm, my throaty laugh taking the sting out of my hit. Theo stumbles back, rubbing his bicep furiously with a semi-scowl. “Come on, Jameson! That’s gonna leave a bruise.”
“For once in your life, shut up,” I tell him, glancing over another one of the laminated pages. Drew’s note burns in my pocket. Make them proud. His words echo around in my head. I haven’t made anyone proud of me. I’ve disappointed everyone in my life at the way I’ve dealt with my grief.
After firing off an email to the therapist Anniston requires me to see on occasion, I feel better knowing I am one step toward getting my shit together. If I ever want to get Breck back, I have to start with making room in my head for her. I can’t afford to be selfish anymore. There are too many people who deserve my devotion.
“Cade.” A guy, presumed to be in his late fifties, steps out behind the curtain. I’ve never met him before so I don’t quite know what to expect but I do know who he is.
He’s the artist that tattooed nearly my brother’s entire body.
“Chris?” I call, catching Theo’s questioning brow.
Chris charges over to me, a huge smile poking out through a facial tattoo of a skull. “Man,” he says while clasping my hand, “it’s good to finally meet you. Your brother talked about you often.” He gives me a quizzical look though, stepping back a little. “Although he said you were much smaller.”
I snort. Fucking Drew and his bullshit. “He wished,” is all I can respond with, the comment not causing pain like it used to.
“You know what you want?” The man with almost one hundred percent of his body covered in tattoos asks me.
I nod, pulling the napkin from my pocket. I scribbled out something rough last night and I’m hoping he can make it look a shit ton better than I drew it. “Obviously something better than this, but essentially this is what I want.”
Chris studies the drawing and then looks at me. “This is big. Gonna be painful.”
I tip my chin, my gaze floating over to Theo who is totally eavesdropping on our conversation. “I can handle it,” I say, flipping Theo off with my hand down at my side.
“Alright then, come on.”
Four painful hours later, I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror, flesh raw and swollen, the entire left side of my torso covered in a barren tree. The branches are engulfed in flames, turning to ash as a fiery phoenix rises from the dirt, consuming it with its blaze. The roots hold the tree strong as the crows fly from its branches.
The tree is my body.
The roots are my family.
The phoenix, my rebirth, burning away the demons that haunt my soul.
I’m starting over.
I’m rising from the ashes.
I’m letting go.
And I’m going to make all of them proud.
Starting with my jelly girl.