WINTER

"I can't believe you're doing this," Tucker muttered as he wiped excess ink off my shoulder. "We've always subtly made fun of people—particularly under the age of, say, forty— getting names tattooed, and here you are, putting some chump's name on one of the most visible places on your body."

He bent over and applied the needle to my skin again. He'd been working on it for over an hour so I was getting used to the pain, but it reminded me why it had been so long between the tattoo I got when I first started working and now.

"Would you shut up and finish it?"

"Please tell me after this you'll get some other more interesting art? It's an embarrassment to the shop that you don't have anything else."

"At least I didn't ask for Chinese symbols."

"That's like saying, ‘At least I didn't eat garbage this morning.’"

"I should have asked Omar," I complained.

"Some guys think a tattoo like this tips a girl into the she might be good in bed, but she's too crazy for me bin."

"Thanks for your words of confidence. They’re really making me feel better." 

"You're welcome," he said almost cheerfully. "Because I'm such a goddamn brilliant artist, I'll be able to change the lettering into something else. I guarantee the next guy you date isn't going to want to see another man's name staring at him when the two of you are going at it."

"I'm doing what you told me to do—putting myself first."

"How is getting Finn's name on your body putting yourself first?"

"I'm doing something I want. I'm not sacrificing myself for Ivy or even Finn or bowing down to your dictates on what makes a good tattoo. Not rushing home because my sister is getting out of prison and needs me to babysit her, or she'll start using again. Not even for Finn. This tattoo is for me."

Tucker grunted, wiped ink and then applied the last swirl. "You wouldn't last a minute in the courtroom."

I sat up, holding the towel to my chest, and motioned for Tucker to turn around. "Neither did you," I retorted.

He stiffened but then laughed. "Touché, Miss Winter, touché."

The bell tinkled, and Gig yelled back, "New commission consultation for you, Winter-who-gets-her-boyfriend's-name-tattooed-on-her-shoulder."

Calling Gig a five year old was an insult to five year olds everywhere. It was a good thing I didn’t wear bras, I thought, as I pulled my Atra tank over my head. The shoulder tattoo would require going braless while it healed.

I went back to work, and each time I moved my arm or reached for a pencil or helped Gig pick up around the shop, I felt the pain of the tattoo. It was a good pain. It reminded me why I'd gotten it and what it meant.

* * *

I drove to the Riverside project. Finn's truck was gone, just as Ivy had said when I called.

"You look terrible," I said when I climbed into the trailer. The interior looked neat and tidy, a far cry from when I first saw it, but Ivy looked awful. Her belly was growing, but her eyes looked sunken and her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in a month.

"Thanks," she said sullenly.

"How's the baby?"

"Fine."

She was going to freeze me out with terse words and a cold shoulder. So be it.

"I came to tell you that I regret the way we parted. I was hurting, and I wish I had handled it differently."

"Are you saying you want to move back?" she asked perking up slightly.

"No. I'm saying that I want to be a part of your life in a healthy way." I took a deep breath. "And that I want to be with Finn as well."

Her face screwed up as if she just tasted a lemon. "Why him?"

"I don't know. I've been in love with him since you first brought him home. When he walked through the front door, I swear angels sang. The night in March when I saw him alone in the café, I swear I didn't mean to do anything but comfort him, but when he turned to me," I paused, uncomfortable with my own incredibly selfish act. I'd acted pious, as if I was the only one who wasn't greedy, when I was the greediest of all of us. I pushed on, "I was the one who kissed him. I touched him, and I took advantage of his state. If I was truly the good sister, I would have walked away, but I didn't."

Ivy sat motionless. "You've always had a crush on him," she finally said.

I nodded. "I have. I wanted him even when you were dating him. When I saw my chance, I took it. I didn't think of you or what it might mean. Even when Finn and I started dating, I didn't think about you."

She pressed her lips tightly together, a red slash against the paleness of her face. I watched her cycle from disgust and hurt to calculation. I steeled myself for her words. "You're a real piece of work. Claiming I'm the one who hurt you when all I wanted was a little goddamned help. I saved you. You could have gone into the foster home, but I swore to the courts I'd be your guardian. I dropped out of school for you, and this is how you stab me in the back? You want my forgiveness? Then you drop him, come home, and help me birth this goddamned baby."

I took her words, not because I deserved them but because she was alone and hurting and because, more importantly, I wasn’t backing down.

Ivy hadn’t coped with the loss of our parents—or rather, she did but it was in the bottom of a bottle or in the bowl of a spoon. She had to come to the same realization that I did. That hurt from loss didn’t need to break us.

But I wasn’t the one who was going to be able to convince her of this, just like Finn couldn’t convince me. No, it was an understanding she would have to gain on her own.

"I love him, Ivy, and if he’ll forgive me and take me back, I am going to be with him. I still want to help you in whatever way that I can, but I'm going after him."

I made myself face her while I said these words because I knew she’d take them as an abandonment when it really meant I was just expanding our family. She’d have more than me to lean on. There’d be Finn too. Tears streamed down her face, and I felt wetness on mine.

I wasn't even sure what we were crying about, other than we were hurting each other so much right now. I could stop it, but if I did, that meant I'd lose Finn. I was making a choice, between Ivy and Finn, and she knew it.

The door slammed open, and both of us jumped. It was Finn. He glanced from one tear-stained face to another. "Should I come back?"

"I wish you'd never shown up in the first place," Ivy cried. She snatched up her purse and flew out, nearly knocking Finn over in the process.

"That went well." I gave Finn a weak smile. I hadn't seen him in forever, and I had to grip the side of the seat so I didn't launch myself at him. The tattoo that Tucker had just finished felt huge, and I was embarrassed and unready for this. I'd hoped to take one thing at a time.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. It sounded like an accusation. I tried again. "I mean, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Winter," he said.

It had only been a few weeks, but it seemed like a decade. I drank him in, and I could tell he did the same. He looked older, as if the past weeks or months of contact with the Donovan girls had aged him beyond his twenty-five years. We stared at each other because I didn't know what to say. I didn’t know what his excuse was. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times trying to form my words.

I hadn't prepared my speech yet. The one I would deliver when I threw myself at his feet and begged for another chance. This was so close on the heels of my emotional talk with Ivy that I wanted to shrink into myself and disappear.

True to form, though, it was Finn who was the courageous one. He took a step forward. And then another. And then another, until he was so close I could feel the cotton of his T-shirt against my nose.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly.

I raised my hands and hesitantly placed them on his chest. He shuddered under my touch. "You too." His eyes closed as if he wanted to savor this.

I ached that I'd hurt him. I choked back a sob and pressed my face against his stomach. His hands closed around my shoulders, and I flinched.

He drew back immediately. "I'm sorry," he said. I grabbed his hand before he could pull completely away, before he left.

"I'm just tender here." I turned my back and pulled my shirt up and off my head.

"Did you get in an accident?" His fingers smoothed over the ridge of my shoulder, above the bandage that Tucker had placed.

"No." I pulled back the bandage and heard a swift intake of breath.

"My God, is that my—"

"Your name."

He dropped to his knees, and he pressed his face into the middle of my back. The heat of his body was as hot as a furnace. His fingers traced the top of my shoulder and then under my blade.

"This is a pretty bold statement."

"Not so much," I managed to choke out. He placed his lips on my shoulder, the touch tender and reverent. I was glad he was holding me because my knees felt like jelly. The callouses on his palms rubbed against my sensitive skin. Another time it might have hurt but now with his hand on my skin and his mouth hovering so close to the surface I felt euphoric. "I'm yours if you want me, Finn O'Malley."

"I'll never stop wanting you." He stood and spun me around to face him. "I'm so torn, Winter. I want to stare at that tattoo, but I need to see your lovely face. I've missed you."

He reached down and plucked my T-shirt off the floor and pulled it over my head. He wouldn't let me go. It was as if he was afraid if he didn't have a hand on me, I would disappear. I knew the feeling. I wanted his touch on me for the rest of my life. He was breathing hard, and his firm erection was pressed into my belly. "Come home with me."

"Yes."

The twenty-minute drive to Finn's house was unbearable. I sat stiffly on my side of the truck because I didn't want to cause a wreck. He parked and told me to sit still.

A moment later, he was opening the door and pulling me into his arms. He didn't let me go. Not to open the door to the house. Not when his roommates greeted us. Not when he walked upstairs to his room.

He didn't let go even when he placed me on the bed but nothing could make me leave.

I ran my hungry hands over his broad shoulders and down to his trim waist. I squeezed his firm buttocks in my hands and wrapped my thighs around him.

He kissed me softly on the mouth and the cheek and then my collarbone and even lower. My breasts received the same tender attention. And down he moved until his face was between my legs and his mouth was on the tender parts of my inner thighs.

"Still smooth for me," he said hoarsely as he pressed his nose against my bare skin.

"I love you, Finn O'Malley," I said. He paused and sat up, drawing his fingers over the wetness he'd drawn from me.

He looked down at me with such love, such joy, I felt my heart would burst. "I didn't think I'd ever hear that from you."

Two of his fingers slid inside me, and a moan escaped me. "I'll say it a million times."

"You better." He bent over and took my nipple—rigid with want—into his mouth. He devoured me then. No more tenderness, only deep hungry desire. I arched against his thrusting hand and his suckling mouth. My fingers wended their way into his hair, and I clutched him to me.

He worked me hard, until my voice was hoarse from my cries. He brought me to the edge but never over, until I was sobbing and begging and pleading for him to please, please, please come inside me.

When he did, it felt like a miracle.

"You’re killing me," he groaned with every push of his hips forward. He felt impossibly big. His cock was overtaking me, touching me in places I didn't know could be touched. I was aflame, burning inside. He lifted me so I straddled him, breast to chest. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, and we stared at one another as I moved against him, up and down.

He never hurried, instead just looked at me with wonder and pleasure filling his face, and in the midst of all of that, ecstasy took me by surprise. I shuddered and shook all around him, and he held me to him, whispering nonsense words of encouragement like Yes, that's so good. You're so tight, and I'm so hard.

But he was still thick and rigid inside me when my eyes popped open and I dropped my head against his shoulder in replete happiness.

He moved to the end of the bed and dangled his legs over. With a pat on my ass, he motioned for me to turn around. Ahhh. He wanted to see my tattoo. I repositioned myself, and Finn peeled off the bandage that I'd reapplied.

Finn didn't touch it with his hands, but his gaze was a heavy caress.

"I love you, Winter," he growled and then thrust inside me. One arm clamped around my middle while the other held my hip, and I rode him furiously until I came and he came if not simultaneously then damn close. We collapsed backward, Finn rolling to his side at the last moment so he wouldn't land on me and possibly hurt my freshly tattooed skin.

"I don't want to leave your body." His nose nudged around my neck and down my spine, careful to avoid hurting me. After a moment, he got up to dispose of the condom and returned to bandage me up.

He pulled back the covers, and I lay in his arms, using my finger to draw imaginary designs on his beautiful skin. He shook his head.

"I thought blood was what made a family, but it isn't. It's love. My parents had it for me. My sister does. And I…I have it for you."

He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him. "Our family can be whomever you want in it—your sister, her kid, your parents. As long as you and I are together, we'll make our life great."