Chapter 8
I wish this client were more of a chatterbox.
I’ve never wished for it so much in my life.
Some people love to talk while I work, others meditate, some just want to focus on the meaning of their tattoo, and others throw their earbuds in and listen to music.
Whatever their choice, I’ll always respect it.
But right now the last thing I want to do is sit with my thoughts.
I blot away the excess ink from the skin and take more into the needle.
Focusing on the tattoo proves much more difficult when my mind won’t stop thinking about my last conversation with Logan; not even the steady hum of the machine can quiet my thoughts.
There was more to his words than he was saying, but I should have pushed him more—instead, I changed the subject and sent him home like a coward. What was I afraid of anyway?
I’ve replayed our conversation on an endless loop.
Each time, my mind seems to manipulate the memory into believing that his words meant more than they probably do.
Like a lie you repeat over and over until it becomes the truth.
I’ve even written it down on paper. All he said was that he doesn’t like to think about me with other men—which could mean he’s jealous, or the more likely scenario is that it’s because he sees me as family. He’s protective.
So why does the prospect of Logan’s interest excite me?
Probably because I spent years focusing on my attraction toward him and now the remnants from that teenage crush are being resurrected—I need to bury them deeper this time.
Which isn’t easy when he understands me better than anyone.
I would love if Jason could show the same patience with my grief that he does.
I never should have given Logan that stupid tarot reading the other night.
Since then, all of Jason’s shortcomings and our incompatibilities have been put under a magnifying glass.
My relationship was fine last week! Until Logan started poking holes in it and saying words I find myself wanting to twist.
Nobody is perfect, I remind myself. Jason can’t be everything. I blot away the excess ink from the tattoo. “Okay, I’m ready to start shading. Would you like to take a break first? Stretch? Use the restroom?”
The client shakes his head.
“Sounds good.”
I swap out the shader. If this were a custom piece, I’d likely be paying more attention to the tattoo itself.
However, I’ve already done six of these sexy maritime mermen in the last four days.
I posted a flash sale promotion on Instagram.
I’m not taking any commissions so I can spend my free time practicing for the upcoming convention in Montana.
Today, the Bozeman Tattoo Festival made a post on social media announcing that Black Rabbit would be in attendance. Casper said one of the judges commented that they were looking forward to seeing my growth as an artist. No pressure or anything.
My thoughts wander as I fill in color on the merman’s tail, but eventually they circle back to Logan. I can’t escape it.
How do I feel about Logan?
I don’t have an answer. I don’t know.
Sure, he’s physically attractive, it’s an objective fact, but I’ve always been able to separate his good looks from our friendship. Now I can hardly make eye contact with him before the butterflies stir in my stomach—which are quickly replaced by a heavy stone of shame.
When Jason takes me out for my birthday dinner tonight, I plan to count all the ways he’s better suited for me.
I need to stop entertaining ideas of being more to Logan.
Especially when I’m not even sure what he meant in the first place by that stupid comment regarding me with other men.
I’m lucky to have Jason. Other women would be thrilled to have a partner like him.
Besides, it’s a moot point, Logan doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t seem to do anything.
Jason is optimistic and animated. He’s a golden retriever—essentially the polar opposite of Logan.
Logan’s more like a wolf. Many accuse him of being grumpy, but that’s not entirely accurate, he’s just .
. . stoic. Spends a lot of his time in his thoughts, a place I’d love to vacation.
I’m forever fascinated by the way his brain works.
How he can sit in silence before creating an utter masterpiece.
There’s nothing wrong with Jason—and there’s nothing going on with Logan.
We’re friends—just friends.
“Are you comfortable in this position?” I ask, before starting again.
They nod.
“Good, if that changes, just let me know. You’re doing a great job!”
Yes, this birthday dinner is exactly what I need.
Once we’re sitting down at the restaurant, I’ll be reminded of how great Jason is, and why I should be investing into our relationship—instead of searching for deeper meaning in Logan’s words.
A possibility isn’t worth tearing up weeks of groundwork.
Possibilities aren’t a strong foundation.
Regardless, the best part of my birthday is yet to come: today I get a letter from Dad.
As soon as I wrap up with my client and clean my station, Logan walks up to me, holding a small box and an envelope. I smile . . . my letter.
“Happy Birthday, Chaos,” he says, giving it to me.
I stare at the envelope, my fingers tracing the familiar handwriting, which reads:
WHEN KELLY TURNS 26
I press the paper to my chest.
“Thank you.”
Then he hands me a small black box tied with ribbon around it. “And this is from me; wait until you get home to open it.”
My head cocks to the side with an easy smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
Frankie’s voice cuts in. “Logan, your two o’clock is here.”
He gives me a small nod and heads toward the front.
I have another twenty minutes before my next client, so I quickly tuck the black gift box into my purse and take my letter into Logan’s office.
All the sounds of the shop are muffled when I close the door. I sit in his upholstered chair and delicately open the envelope, the one my fingers itch to tear into.
My lower lip quivers as soon as I unfold the paper to reveal the block of his handwriting.
New words.
As much as I love to see them, they’re a stark reminder of his absence, and that ink and paper is the closest I’ll ever be to him from now on. We’re one-way pen pals. His words are just an echo.
Hey kid—
Happy birthday! Congratulations on your 26th trip around the sun. You better be celebrating and not wasting any time missing me today, because let me tell you, I’m doing fucking great!
I hope you know that I’m still so damn proud of you.
I trust y’all are keeping the place afloat.
Don’t be afraid to keep Logan in line, I have a feeling you’re the only one he’d let boss him around anyway.
I’m guessing you’re wrapping up your apprenticeship.
Wish I were there to see your work, I’m sure it’s stellar.
Twenty-six was one of the best years of my life, that’s when I married your mom.
She says hi, by the way. I’m going to give you some relationship advice since I’m not there to tell it to your face.
I’m not even sure if you’re dating, but if you are, whoever you’re with better be top notch.
You’re Kelly fucking Everhart—never forget that.
Your name carries weight, find someone strong enough to carry it.
I’m sure you’ll meet a lot of great guys, but you only have one soul mate.
When you’re young, it might be hard to tell the difference.
And that’s my gift for you today: the difference.
First, don’t be expecting fireworks or rainbows or any of that bullshit.
Your heart skipping a beat isn’t love, it’s cardiac arrhythmia.
Second, you aren’t going to recognize them right away, because the funny thing about soul mates is that they look a lot like you.
You’re going to be expecting some new face to waltz into your life and sweep you off your feet, but it doesn’t work like that.
Soul mates grow together. When you look into their eyes, you’re going to see yourself. Got it?
Find a partner worthy of your heart. The one who reflects who you are.
Someone who takes in the strays and observes beauty without taking a photograph.
Who has art in their soul and fire in their veins the same way you do.
Who inspires you to be the best version of yourself but treasures the worst of you just as much.
Find your equal. Your second self. And someone who can raise hell just as much as you.
I’ll leave you with this. There are certain things that every human should experience before they leave the earth: sex, art, music, and most of all, love. And when you find your person, that’s the real deal, kid. That’s what life is all about. You’ll see.
Love you.
Dad
I look up at the ceiling, blinking, trying to contain the tears. I’m sure mascara is already smeared across my cheeks.
“I miss you, Dad. That was one hell of a birthday card . . . I really wish you were here for me to talk to. Things have been weird lately.”
Glancing back down at the note, I start at the top and read it again.
“I got you something,” Jason says, pulling out a long and skinny jewelry box covered in gray velvet. “Happy birthday.”
I smile and take the gift from him, opening it. It’s a beautiful necklace with a red ruby pendant.
“Wow!”
“It’s your birthstone.”
I pause a moment. He thinks this is my birthstone? But it’s May.
“Oh? Actually my birthstone is emerald, but I still love it! Thank you!”
It’s not exactly my style, but it is very pretty, and it’s the effort that matters. I could be with one of those guys who doesn’t even remember my birthday at all.
“Look, it even matches my nails.” I chose a simple red dress and painted my nails with a matching glitter polish—I firmly believe in wearing sparkles on your birthday, and now I have jewelry to match.
“No, your birthstone is ruby.”
“I love the necklace,” I repeat, not wanting to argue.
I spent an extra half hour on my makeup, and tonight is supposed to be fun—I’m going to have fun.
I’m done thinking about Dad’s letter or the messy conversation in the attic with Logan .
. . And I’m definitely not entertaining the tarot reading that basically told me my relationship was a sham.
I just want to enjoy my birthday, eat a nice dinner, and have a good time.
He seems satisfied with that answer, and the tension between us dissipates.
“Excellent, because there’s something else I got you.”
My lips curl into a smile. “What?”
He swallows a bite and points at me with his fork. “I found this really great company. I made a few phone calls, and normally they have a waiting list a month long, but I was able to fit you in.”
My brows crease. “A company for what?”
“It’s an estate liquidator. They can come by your place and just take it all away.
Everything in the attic. They have a bunch of experts who will appraise the items, find out how much something is worth, manage the art and the selling.
They do all the work. You can finally get your weekends back, babe! ”
What the fuck?
My chest feels too tight, too hot. His words finally register, and panic coils as I imagine strangers rifling through my dad’s things. No way!
My breaths quicken, but I force myself to drop the tension in my shoulders.
He’s only trying to help. Just like that, my mind is back to comparing Jason to Logan.
I wish Jason understood that I need to process this in my own way.
I wish he’d be supportive instead of just trying to take it away. Logan gets it, why can’t he?
“Jason, that is a really thoughtful gift, and I appreciate the hoops you probably jumped through to arrange it, but I can’t just let someone else come in and go through his things.
” I roll my lips together. “Some of it might not be worth anything, but it’s sentimental. I have to do it at my own pace.”
“I’m trying to make your life easier. You said you were stressed, this would take away the stress!” He pulls out his phone, checking his messages.
“I know . . .” I reach across the table to grasp his hand, stealing his attention back. “I know your intentions are good, but I’m not ready to move that fast yet.”
“Just thought you might want to spend more time together.”
He stares at me, the friction growing between us. I don’t want to ruin the night. Maybe he’s right, this is why we’re feeling off, we don’t have enough time together. We haven’t had time to bond and maintain our relationship, and these things take work.
“How is your steak?” I ask, smiling.
He shrugs. “Fine. I’ve probably cooked better at home.” He checks his phone again.
“What do you want to do after this? We could watch a movie at your place?” I suggest.
“I dunno, I’ve got an early morning.”
Disappointment. I took off work early for this dinner because I was hoping for the extra time together.
His phone buzzes, and he checks it one last time before shaking his head. “No, let’s do the movie. You’re right. We have this time, we should use it.”
I smile. “Yeah?”
“Yup. Let’s grab the check and get out of here. You got all dressed up for me, I wouldn’t want to waste it.”