Page 140 of Jump on Three

Beckett laughed. “That thing is twenty feet long.”

Rhys arched a brow. “Your point, Savage?”

Beckett held his hands up. “No point. It’s good to have hobbies.”

“Hobbies are good, but please don’t be responsible for a yarn shortage,” I warned. “I’ll be shunned in my knitting circles for teaching you.”

Seven pairs of eyes swung to me, and Ivan pressed a kiss to my knee.

Freddie threw his arms in the air. “Yes. I adore snarky Evie. It’s a pleasure to witness her emergence.”

Rhys smirked at me. “Be careful what you wish for. When she turns on you, it’s a knife to the heart.”

Delilah shushed him, and I snuggled against Ivan. He stroked my hair away from my face, his eyes following the same path as his hand.

“You’re happy,” he said.

I nodded. “You’re happy too.”

“Yes,” he stated. “I made the right decision.”

I exhaled my relief. I hadn’t known I’d needed to hear that until now.

I kissed his hand. “We jumped.”

“We did, angel.” He dragged his lips along my knuckles then brought our joined hands to his chest. “And now we’re going to fly.”

Epilogue One

Evelyn

Five Years Later

Ivan was pacing, and it was making me nervous. Given I was getting my first tattoo, I was already nervous, so this wasn’t helping.

I hissed when the needle hit a particularly tender spot, and Ivan stiffened.

“I do not like this,” he repeated for the dozenth time.

“Shush.”

My artist continued, ignoring Ivan. For a man covered in tattoos, he wasn’t doing well with seeing me get one. Mine wasn’t even big, but I’d come to learn the inside of my wrist was painful since there was no extra padding there.

Still, I watched the process in fascination. I’d been with Ivan numerous times to see him getting inked, but it had taken me this long to decide on what I wanted.

It was a little bit of a surprise to him. He was so busy pacing he hadn’t noticed the design had changed slightly.

My artist specialized in fine lines. She’d already outlined an adorable ball of yarn with a long, unraveled strand. A little dove, with its wings spread, held part of it in its beak. The end hung down, curling into a heart. Only when someone looked closely would they see the lines of the heart were interrupted in a spot to form a lowercase I, somewhat like Morse code.

The dove was Delilah, my peace. The heart was Ivan, my love.

This would probably be my only tattoo, so I wanted to get the most bang for my buck.

I laughed to myself. I’d been living in America so long I was using idioms in my thoughts.

“Sit down, love,” I commanded softly. “I’m afraid you’ll pass out.”

Ivan slumped in the chair beside the tattoo bench, shoving his fingers through his hair. “This can’t go on much longer.”

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