Page 66 of Busted Dreams

I wanted to make him lay down for my own curiosity so I could get a good look at all his artwork. Did the others know he had these? Thatcher would love them.

“Never imagined all this, did you?” There was a glint of vulnerability in his eyes that pulled at my heartstrings. Why was he so concerned about tattoos? I mean, he was underage, but outside of that, there was nothing wrong with covering your body with beautiful, meaningful artwork.

“I did not. But I’m not disappointed.” I stressed the last word.

Settling into the chair, he nodded his acceptance of my answer, then turned to the spunky woman at his side. A real pro, she set about cleaning the gun as he undressed and we shared our clearly uncomfortable conversation. At least for Jonah.

“There’s a decent space for script. What are you thinking?” she asked as she turned her attention to Jonah.

“I want something to remind me that life isn’t shit and today isn’t the end.”

Sucking in a breath, I fought hard to keep from showing any other reaction. This was already hard enough for him, and I didn’t want to make it harder.

“There are tons of quotes that would be fitting. Do you want a few minutes to Google some ideas?” The woman set the gun down and braced to push herself up out of the chair. I liked her. She was professional and prickly. Was this one option of what my own introverted personality could grow into?

I wouldn’t mind it. This woman had built a career for herself doing something she loved. That was what I wanted. Stability and happiness.

“I have an idea. If you think it’s stupid, it’s no big deal, but I like the thought of something simple.” It was probably the worst idea, but as soon as he said what he wanted, it popped into my head.

Jonah looked at me, inviting my answer with a small raise of his eyebrows.

“I am stronger than I know.”

The woman canted her head with a thoughtful expression. “Hmm. I like it. It does fit the bill. Short and sweet, but with an underlying meaning not to give up on yourself. What do you think, kid?”

A slow smile spread across Jonah’s face, and for the first time since he opened that fucking letter, he seemed happy. “I love it. Anytime I see it in the mirror, I’ll be reminded of it.”

“Do you want that along your ribs? Or what about over the top of this tattoo? That way you can read it clearly? There’s enough room there if the script isn’t too big.” She snapped on blue latex gloves, then traced the area just under the top of his shoulder. If his tattoo went any higher, I doubt it would have worked.

“Let’s do that,” he said as he pressed his head back flat against the chair, ready for the tattoo to start.

“Does that area hurt a lot?” I asked as I inched forward. This was my first time watching a tattoo, hell, in a tattoo parlor, and to say I was intrigued was an understatement.

“Not as bad as some others, like the spine. Why? Ready for your first tattoo?” The woman smirked as she showed a few different script options to Jonah. My unwelcome naïveté must have been stamped on my forehead. I didn’t need to ask how she knew I didn’t have any.

When we first walked in, Jonah seemed prepared to catch me if I tried to run. That alone was probably enough for her.

“No, but depending on how this experience goes, I’ll think about it.”

“Pull up that chair so you’re not hovering over us. It would be weird for everyone. And you’re in good hands then. Jonah is a pro. He’s one of the few that make it look like a piece of cake.”

“Thanks, Mollie. I’ll try not to let the compliment go to my head,” Jonah snarked.

Mollie walked back to the front, coming back almost immediately with a small but narrow piece of paper. She handed him a small mirror, then peeled the back off and let it hover over his skin. “It looks straight, what do you think before I stick it on?”

“Looks good to me. I don’t even question you at this point.” She must be his main person. Their familiarity was easy to see, and it warmed me to witness it. If I had to place some type of label onto them, I’d say this woman thought of Jonah as a kid brother.

She smoothed it across his skin, and when she peeled the plastic away, the words were left printed on his skin. An outline.

Jonah studied me as I pulled the chair up beside him. Whatever he saw, it must have been what he was looking for, because he relaxed further into the chair.

“Starting now.” Mollie turned on the gun and pressed the needle to his skin.

Jonah stiffened in the chair for a few seconds, then let his body sink into the soft cushion beneath him.

I extended my hand. “Moral support?”

His mouth curled on one corner in a fond smile. “Sure.” Then he placed his palm against mine.

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