Page 14 of Yours Truly

I’m energy matching.

In the capacity in which I know Trace Calhoun, he is a total butthole, skeevy, gaslighting, self-indulgent jackhole— wait, I already used hole—jackass.

I don’t need to search Google for some semblance of redemption so I can write off his shitty qualities, obsess over the one good one, fall in love with him, then get my heart broken when he undoubtedly doesn’t share my same feelings.

No. No fucking way.

I shove my phone away before I google, and move through the house toward the door, only dragging my Doc Martens a little on the way.

I know they just want to celebrate me and the hard work I’ve been doing at Ink Time for the last month. I love them because of it.

I have learned a lot, and it was day one of the official apprenticeship when I realized that I don’t just like art—I actually do love tattooing too. But all of that “I’m chasing the right dream” high has been smothered by the aggravating, intense, annoying, and irritatingly sexy Trace.

If he isn’t playing devil’s advocate with everything I say, he’s ignoring me or glaring at me from across the studio.

I’ve given the mental middle finger more times in the last month than I have given the actual finger in my entire life.

And that’s saying something.

Fresh air stings my eyes as I lock the front door behind me, turning to head just twenty feet away. But I stop in my tracks when my eyes catch Deuce slipping from his truck, heading toward Hudson and Dolly’s place.

As if he senses me frozen, he twists his head to meet my gaze and nods. “He’s not coming,” he says, adding, “don’t worry. I didn’t invite him.”

“Good,” I breathe, dropping my head, watching clouds of dust coat the tips of my boots as I close the space between us. We walk to the front door together but he stops me before he opens it, his large hand covering the knob in entirety.

“Good,” he repeats, studying my eyes intensely.

“Yeah,” I say as a bead of nervous sweat slips down my spine beneath my oversized t-shirt. “Good.”

Deuce’s eyes remain lost in mine, searching for something as they volley back and forth. Without another word, he pushes the door open and the weirdness dissipates as Dolly wraps her arms around me.

“You came!”

I snort. “You were at the house, like, five minutes ago watching me get ready. Of course I came.” I tuck my waves behind my ear, making my way to the barstools in the kitchen. It’s where Dolly and I always sit when we talk.

“They’re at the creek skipping stones until dinner,” Dolly says to Deuce, without him needing to ask. She checks on Honey in the playpen, kissing her cheeks a million times before returning to me.

“And my–” Deuce’s sentences dies on the vine as Evelyn comes out from the hall, a sleepy toddler tucked into her chest and nape. “There’s my whole world,” he croons softly, his soft tone throwing bumps along my bare arms and the side of my neck.

I don’t have a thing for Deuce.

But there’s baby fever in the air, between Ev and Deuce and Dolly and Hudson, and I think it’s very contagious. Because my insides tighten at the pink-cheeked baby folded into his mom, and the tender way Deuce greets them both, his strong hand sweeping gracefully down his son’s back as he presses his lips to Ev’s.

I want that. It’s shitty timing to want a relationship and a family so badly because I’m starting my career and all, but still, I can’t deny that the clock inside me isn’t ticking— it’s ringing loudly, begging to be noticed.

I’ve wanted to be married and have a family since I was too young—just eighteen. But I promised myself I’d wait– finish school, start my career, all those things.

I wanted Rhett to be the one.

But he turned out to be a total lizard instead.

“Heading out to see Hud and Bear at the creek,” Deuce repeats to Ev, who nods knowingly, her wide eyes fresh and sparkling.

“Okay,” she whispers, “we’re just waking up from a nap so it’ll take him a minute to adjust anyway.”

Deuce and Ev share another private goodbye consisting of soft kisses and hushed words, and then it’s just us girls and the babies. Ev sets her son down next to Honey in the playpen permanently laid out in the living room– I say permanent because my sister is so fucking obsessed with her husband, I can’t see a time when she won’t always be pregnant.

Seriously.

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