Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Alright, alright. Calm down,” I gritted out as I looked between everyone, staring the bikers down until they huffed and sat back down to finish their drinks. I handed four beers over to Baker and motioned for him to go before he started a fight. When I grabbed the other two beers and the soda, I glanced at the dark-haired biker. “Soda is for me.”
I carried the drinks back to my guys and took a seat between Taj and Gus, watching everyone clink their glasses and chug their beers. I steadily drank my soda, enjoying the sugar and the fact that I was no longer a drunk mess who nearly screwed up my life hundreds of times. All I wanted to do was maintain my sobriety and look after my guys.
Well, maybe there was one more thing. Our flings with other women were fun, but they were always so short and impersonal. When we were inevitably left behind after the truth about our criminal backgrounds were revealed, it stung. It hurt everyone. We had become a family with each other, but we wanted more. A loving partner. A child.
It just didn’t seem likely for us to get those things. Our mistakes and dark pasts followed us like shadows. We could move forward toward the light, but from our viewpoint, it was miles and miles away.
Chapter 3
Madison
“Actually, I changed my mind. I can’t do this. I really can’t do this. I think I’m going to pass out!”
Aisling stopped us from walking another foot down the sidewalk toward the tattoo shop, grabbing my hands and making me face her.
“Madi, breathe,” she told me with a firm voice.
I sucked in a deep, shaky breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it. I still felt my hands tremble slightly as I gave her a nervous look.
“What if I actually pass out and embarrass myself?” I asked her.
I looked up tattoo videos last night after finally cracking and agreeing to attend the appointment, and it only made me more nervous seeing that quick needle hitting the skin over and over again. How did that not hurt?
Aisling gave me a comforting smile.
“You’re not going to pass out and embarrass yourself. You don’t even have to get the tattoo today, but you should talk to one of the artists and get your idea sketched out at least!” she told me.
I nodded as I listened to her. She was right. At the end of the day, it was my decision whether or not I wanted a needle stabbing me in the skin over and over again today.
“Alright, I’m okay. Let’s go,” I said.
I’d already dropped Chloe off at school and cleared my schedule for the day, so I needed to commit to my plans. Plus, I didn’t want to be the type to back out or let go of my obligations. I regretted dropping out of high school, but I had to commit to taking care of my daughter instead.
Aisling led me to the front of an old Victorian building where ‘Swan and Rose’ was carved into a wooden panel above the door. There was some glass shattered on the sidewalk and a spray of graffiti here and there on the corners and sides of the building, which gave me an uneasy feeling. The place was a bit shady looking, but it was too to back out now. She pulled open the glass front door, making a bell ding overhead.
I followed her closely, my eyes widening as they swept over the busy and surprisingly nice interior of the tattoo shop. There were six artist stations with trays, kits, and tables, and I noticed the walls next to them had shelves with various trinkets or decorations that varied between the artists. The floor was made of sleek wood, old and new pieces of framed art hung on the white walls, and there were plenty of shelves full of vintage vinyl records, figurines, and… spiders?
“Is that a spider?” I whispered as I grabbed Aisling’s arm and pointed toward one of the artists’ areas where there was a glass tank with a tarantula inside of it.
“Holy shit, he’s hot,” Aisling muttered as she ignored the spider and looked at the tattoo artist sitting next to the tank and peering into it with a grin on his face.
I took a look at the slender but fit man and felt my heart skip a little. She was right. His light brown hair was cut into a quiff hairstyle, airy and dynamic. He wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black pants. He looked like any guy who worked in an office, but I could make out the legs of a spider tattoo on his lower neck just below his collar.
“Woah,” I said, sharing an impressed look with her.