Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Oscar is third on the table.
“I ran out of stencils,” I warn. “Gonna freehand yours.”
He glares. “I’m cackling inside, bro. Stencil me or you’re dead.”
“Might choose death.”
“You’re not a dumb motherfucker.” He lies back, and he’s shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”
“Me either.” I snap on new gloves. He’s always said he’d never let me tattoo him. And I do have enough stencils. After it’s perfectly placed on his ribs, I ask, “You sure?”
“I’m sure I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.” Then he sighs into a grin, nodding. “Only because I love you.”
“Took you this long?”
“Don’t make me laugh—not while the needle is going.” Haven’t touched him yet. “Redford.”
Farrow pops a bubblegum bubble. “Man, I’m not holding your hand.”
I’m laughing. Once I control myself, I go calm and concentrate. Oscar will be in security for the long haul. Much longer than most of us, but one day, I know he’ll pass the radio over too.
He gives me solid praise when I’ve finished the three letters. It’s an easy tattoo, but it doesn’t mean less than an intricate one.
Banks is next.
Both Moretti brothers have the most physical scars, and Banks has experienced more chronic pain than anyone I know, so a little tattoo is barely a prick to him.
Luna asked if Banks would follow Thatcher and retire at the end of the line. Not the middle, not the beginning.
For Sulli and Akara, I could see Banks wanting to protect her for the rest of his life. But in addition to that, I think he’d stay in for his brother. To be with him. Till the end.
He pats my back when I finish. “Second-best one.” He flashes his ring finger—showing his inked wedding ring. It’s number one to him.
As it should be.
Akara appraises Banks’ tattoo with a grin. He’ll always be the man behind the operation, and someday, maybe even soon, he’ll hang up the metaphorical gloves and just run the show.
“Farrow,” I call up.
He tugs off his black V-neck. Instead of lying down, he sits on a chair.
Oscar swigs his beer. “Of course his maverick ass isn’t getting a rib tattoo.”
There’s not enough space on Farrow’s ribs. The most symmetrical placement is the very back of his neck. So I tattoo him above the large gray sparrow that fills most of his back.
Farrow Redford Keene Hale.
I know him the best. So my best bet is that he’ll let go of security one day, but when his old man retires, he’ll take over the med team. Maybe some will even be shocked that at the end of it all, he’d choose medicine. But it wouldn’t shock me.
“Your turn,” Farrow tells me, and I show him my machine. He sanitizes his hands, snaps on a pair of gloves, opens a new needle, and I’m on the table. Getting a tattoo from Farrow. He has the steadiest hands, and the most experience watching me tattoo—so I trust him.
Looks perfect.
“Quinnie.” He’s next. Then Gabe, then Froggy.
The three rookies have a longer road ahead of ‘em. They’ll be around for Luna. I believe that. Gabe Montgomery—the resident SFO floater—is moving into MK’s apartment this summer. She lives in Center City. Things got serious. Couldn’t be happier for the couple.
Frog lifts her shirt up while lying on the table. “How badly will this hurt? Don’t lie.”
“You won’t even know I was here.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. I’m glad she’s a tattoo virgin or else it would’ve meant she’d have ink from Scooter. She backed out of the sketch that he’d drawn to memorialize her Auntie Mint, and she asked if I could design something for her instead.
I was honored to.
Frog powers through her first tattoo. We all notice Quinn holding her hand for support. No one says a word out loud about it. They’ve been adamant they’re just friends, and that’s probably a good thing, considering they’re coming out of bad relationships.
When I’m done, I clean up, and I have a drink with my family. We’ll never go far. Akara raises the bottle first, looking around at each of us with reverence, familiarity, nostalgia, and love, and he nods, “To Omega.”
We lift our beers. “To Omega.”
80
LUNA HALE
“That’s the last thing?” Moffy asks, dropping a cardboard box labeled Luna’s Bathroom Stuff onto the wooden floorboards.
“Yeah, that should be it,” I mutter, quiet. Not sad exactly. New beginnings are hard because they follow an ending. Losing my memories shortened my time with my cousins, with my brother—in ways I hated. In ways I wish I could get back.
And I am reclaiming that time, but not with Moffy anymore. I’m creating a new timeline in New York with a different brother. With different cousins.
Moffy stares around the two-bedroom, unfurnished apartment, taking it all in. No one ever moved back into the penthouse. They sold it after the renovations. For Moffy and Jane, it was time to write a new chapter with their own families.