Page 56 of Trussed In Hope
“Sure. Put the address into the GPS.” I nodded at the screen and waited to see where we were going.
The address didn’t look familiar, and it wasn’t far. We landed in Tallahassee, so there was no telling what she’d found up here. We could do whatever she wanted as long as we were on the road before nightfall.
I pulled up to a tattoo shop and recognized it immediately. I’d been researching it for weeks.
“Park, please.” Emberlynn said and then jumped out and hurried inside.
I sighed, knowing she was up to no good. I found a spot and walked to stand outside the parlor. The bell over the shop door jingled as Emberlynn pulled it open and tugged me inside. The smell of antiseptic mixed with ink and bad decisions hung thick in the air, familiar but still sharp enough to make my chest tighten.
I gave her a look. “You really just walked me into this tattoo shop without warning me?”
Her lips curved into that soft, stubborn smile of hers. “Not without warning. You’ve been researching this place for weeks. I saw the tabs on your laptop. Don’t tell me you weren’t dragging your feet.”
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Damn woman, you don’t let me hide, do you?”
“That’s kind of the point,” she said, threading her fingers through mine. Her eyes softened. “It’s time, Hardison. You carry those men in your heart, and the world needs to know how brave each and everyone of y’all are. Now carry them on your skin, too. They deserve that. All of them.”
The artist, a tall guy with sleeves full of black and gray ink, walked over with a clipboard. “You’re the vet she called about?”
I blinked at her. “You set this up?”
She just shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself.
I sighed and then nodded to the artist. “Yeah. That’s me.”
He gave me an assessing look. “Alright, man. What are we putting down today?”
I ran a hand over the back of my neck, my throat tightening. For a second, words didn’t want to come. Emberlynn squeezed my hand, grounding me.
“I want a tribal piece,” I finally said. “Something that symbolizes brotherhood. Strength. Bond. A mark for the SEALs who had my back.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I pushed through it. “And beneath it… I want their names. All of them. Every brother I have and the one I lost.”
The artist’s expression shifted, serious now. He nodded slowly. “We can do that. Strong lines up top, clean lettering below. Make sure it lasts as long as you do.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with a mix of pride and grief. “That’s the point.”
“Can I get creative?” he asked.
“As long as you’re paying your respects, you can get as creative as you want.”
He motioned toward the chair. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I sat down, the leather cold against my back as Emberlynn settled into the seat beside me. She didn’t let go of my hand, even when the buzz of the needle kicked on.
The sting of the first pass made me grit my teeth, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I kept my eyes on her. She was the anchor in the storm, the reason I was here, the reason I wasn’t drowning in ghosts.
And as the needle burned ink into my skin, I thought about Barrett. About all my brothers. Elijah… about how every line would keep us together—not just in my memory, but carved into me forever.
HARDISON
Before Silver Creek. Before Emberlynn. Before it all.
The gym lights hummed overhead, the low buzz matching the ache in my shoulders. Sweat rolled down my spine as I leaned against the cool concrete wall, trying to catch my breath. Across the room, Wyatt was still going at the punching bag like it had personally offended him.
“Jesus, you trying to kill that thing?” I asked, grabbing a towel from the bench.
He gave the bag one last hit before stepping back, breathing hard. “Helps me sleep.”
“Does it?”
