Page 138 of The Long Game

Grady held him tighter. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I would never have known if you hadn’t as I don’t usually go for a black light in the bedroom. I’m afraid my winter-pale ass will glow.”

Jack shook with laughter. “Well, you have a bedroom black light now.”

“I’ll apologize now for what you’ll see come February,” Grady murmured as he nuzzled behind Jack’s ear, unbelievably happy Jack was there, living with him, sharing his bed.

He could stay just like this, Jack shuddering in his arms, all night, so he was disappointed when Jack pulled away.

“Stop distracting me,” he admonished.

“Me? You’re the one glowing in the dark!” Grady shot back, trailing his eyes down Jack’s back again. “Can I ask what some of these mean?”

“Sure.”

“The string of numbers here?” Grady asked as he drew a finger along the ink in question.

“My prison ID number.”

Grady’s finger paused as he absorbed that, then moved to the fleur-de-lis on the next tentacle down. “Because your dad’s family is Quebecoise?”

“Yes. If you look next to it,” he waved a hand closer to his right hip, “you’ll see a date and a flower.”

Grady touched the art in question, running his finger up the tentacle.

“That’s my dad’s birthday and a violet, my mom’s favorite flower, which also happens to be the symbol of New Brunswick.”

“Amazing,” Grady murmured. He wanted to ask about every single symbol and word, but they had time, and Grady wanted to see the rest. He focused on one of the larger pieces. “And this?”He followed the sinuous path of a wolf following a tentacle and twisting around Jack’s ribs.

“René calls memon loup.”

Grady moved to Jack’s side. “So, is the past on your back, and the present on your front?”

With René somewhere in between?

“More or less,” Jack said with a shrug while turning to face Grady. “Change is inevitable, so even the tattoo can’t be set in stone.”

“Makes sense,” Grady said, entranced by the abundance of glowing UV ink spiraling out from the octopus’s body. He was definitely going to enjoy learning about every drop of it, but his eye caught on one in particular. “The Ice Cats logo?” he asked.

Jack shrugged. “It changed my life when they hired me.”

Grady nodded, then recognized the tilted stein of overflowing ale that also graced the Brunswicker Ale House’s sign. He hoped it was there, at least in part, because that’s where they’d met.

He stroked his finger over the helmet from a suit of armor, one of the only sketches filled in so it glowed bright white.

“For Garrick, but don’t tell him I made him a knight. He’s already insufferable.”

“But why?”

“He’s the only one who has stuck by me through everything, and his last name is LeBlanc, so it got extra white.”

Grady smiled. “I like it.”

“I’ll have to decide what to do for Fiona now,” Jack said, considering his chest in the standing mirror they’d put in the corner. “Rhian and Savannah are here and here,” he said, touching the stylized R, S, and G twined together beneath the helmet. “And this is Barnaby and Travis,” he added, pointing to the tentacle that curled up from the body toward his heart.

Grady smiled and traced the beautifully rendered quill and hockey stick where they crossed like a coat of arms with tiny writing beneath. “What does WS29 mean?”

“William Shakespeare Sonnet 29. Barnaby had me read it once. It’s about how life can be hard, but friendship can make it better.” He shrugged. “Or something like that.”

Grady smiled. “Remind me to hug Barnaby extra hard next time we see him.”

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