Page 18 of Take My Hand

“It’s nothing,” he says, trying to brush me off.

He’s never quiet about his love life, so my interest is thoroughly piqued.

“C’mon, since when do you keep any of your shit private?”

“I said it’s nothing.” His voice is clipped, and I’m taken aback by his change in attitude. “Sorry, I just can’t talk about it, okay?”

Can’t or won’t?

Either way, I drop it.

“What about you? Obviously, you’re not getting laid.”

I try to push him off the back of his stool but don’t have the strength to do it while trying to keep still as Vinnie finishes up.

Nikolai rolls his chair out of reach, laughing. “But is there anyone you’ve got your eye on? Now that we’re back home and settled a bit more, I think it’s time we find you someone.”

“Oh, has this become a ‘we’ problem now?”

“Yes, it has. I’m very invested in my friend’s happiness. Is that a crime?”

“Never.”

I can’t help the mental image that flashes at me though when thinking about his question. Shoulder-length blonde hair with dark roots that turn golden brown in the sun. Hazel eyes that hold so much fire and life, but also turn solemn and withdrawn at the drop of a hat. Full lips that I hate to admit I’ve dreamed about a few times, even when they were claimed by another man. Long, lean legs wrapped around?—

“All done,” Vinnie interrupts my thoughts, giving my neck a final wipe-down. I crack my knuckles, trying to put thoughts of Carter into the deep recesses of my mind.

It’s wrong for me to be thinking of her like that so fresh out of a relationship like she is. I can’t make a move on her so soon. And who’s to say she’d even want me to? Especially considering how big of an asshole I was to her yesterday.

I stretch, my muscles tight from lying in the same position for so long. Vinnie discards his gloves and begins cleaning his station while I stand and walk across the empty shop to the full wall of mirrors at the back.

The piece is beautiful and intricate, a little dark but also soft. A butterfly sits in the center of my throat with wings stretching around both sides of my neck, the tips of them just reaching my ears. The wings have a traditional monarch pattern on them, but the body of the butterfly has a skull built into it. It’s done in heavy contrast of shadows and highlights, all in black and white like the rest of the ink on my body.

Vinnie walks up beside me and admires his work proudly. “It’s fucking sick, man.” I clasp his hand and pull him in for a hug. “You outdid yourself.”

He nods his head, humble as ever. “I don’t need to bore you with aftercare. If you haven’t figured that shit out yet, then that’s on you.”

I flip him off and go back to staring at the piece in the mirror once again, getting used to the image of myself with ink on this new area of my body.

“You sure you don’t want to get anything done?” My eyes meet Nikolai’s in the mirror as he stands behind me, checking out the work too.

An admiring glint is there, but I know he’d never go for it.

“I could never decide on something that I’d permanently want on my body for the rest of my life.”

Spoken like a man with true commitment issues. It’s fitting for him that he’s the only one of the four of us without any tattoos. Even with his neurotic behavior over the past couple years, that’s still been something he’s shown restraint on.

“Feel better?” he asks, assessing my posture and face to find the sense of peace I was desperate for.

The familiar anxieties still rattle around in my brain and chest, the fog of them there but lighter.

“Little bit.” I beam. Because that’s all I hope for every day. To just feel a little bit better.

8

CARTER

“That was fast!” I greet my friend, checking the time on my phone. I called Scar less than thirty minutes ago to see if she and Walker would be able to come over and help move some furniture I got delivered today. I tried doing it myself. I even used those little sliders under the package for it to glide easily across the floor.

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