Page 145 of Outcast
“And actually, I can’t go to the gala,” I cut in before I lost the nerve to speak up. “I have plans with Gray.”
“Surely, they can wait,” Dad said.
I looked at Gray, unsure. He shrugged. Damn. He was leaving the ball in my court. Gray wouldn’t be upset with me if I missed his tattoo session, but I would regret it.
I wet my lips. “Sorry, it can’t. Gray is getting a tattoo. It’s one that all his brothers have, like a family code, and it’s pretty important. I need to be there.”
“Surely, you don’tneed—”Dad started.
“Jim,” Grandpa said, raising his bushy brows, “don’t push him. Haven’t we had enough of that?”
I drew a breath. “No, it’s okay. I meant to say Iwantto be there. It would mean a lot to me.”
Dad frowned. “Why?” At Grandpa’s glare, he held up his hands. “I’m genuinely asking so I can understand.”
“Well.” I held out Gray’s arm so they could see some of his ink, including the portrait of his foster mom. “These aren’t just random images. They have meaning to Gray. They tell pieces of his life story. What he’s lost. What he loves. What he believes about himself.”
Gray smiled faintly. “That’s true. I’ve got a tattoo for my parents, as well. I lost them when I was six.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Mom said.
“Some of it’s just beautiful art, though,” I continued. “Imagine doing art not on a canvas but on someone’s skin. Imagine your art just walking around, becoming part of their life story? It’s incredible. People look down on tattooing sometimes, but there’s real artistry to all the different styles. There’s traditional, neotraditional, realism, watercolor, and so much more.”
The table had fallen quiet while I rambled on. My face heated. “Sorry. I nerded out, didn’t I?”
“It’s cute,” Gray said with a chuckle.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you so excited about something,” Mom said. “How did you learn so much about it?”
I shrugged. “I read up on it after Gray and I met. Even did a few tattoo designs in my sketch pad for fun.”
“Emory has always loved art,” Grandpa said.
“Oh, I know,” Mom said. “He gives me the loveliest paintings for Mother’s Day every year. I always look forward to that.”
“He sure got all the talent in the family,” Dad agreed.
Allison nudged me. “Tell them about school.”
“What about school?” Dad asked.
I shrugged. “I got enough credits for a degree in art as well as business. I just didn’t think it would go anywhere.”
Dad’s eyes widened. “What are you saying? You want to do something more with it?”
“I don’t know about that. It’s not like there are art jobs falling from the sky. Besides, I’ve got my position at the bank.”
Grandpa clucked. “Is that what you really want, though, Emory? Or did you just do what was expected?”
“Um, well… I guess I never gave it much thought. Dad worked for you, and I always knew I’d work for him. It was just what we did.”
“When my grandfather started the Gold Community Bank, it was a real blessing,” Grandpa said.
I nodded, feeling guilty for not appreciating it more.
“The town was even smaller then, so there weren’t a lot of jobs,” he said. “It was a good way to build something for our family and for future generations. You may not know this about your dad, but he loved coming to the bank and shadowing me.” Grandpa chuckled. “He told everyone he saw how he was gonna be an important banker one day.”
Dad groaned. “I was a silly kid.”
