Chapter Thirteen
Chapter
Thirteen
“We should have combined this with another state.”
Those are the first words I speak to Dom when I find him waiting on a sidewalk in Topeka, Kansas. I have to say something to distract myself from how good he looks standing there in his white T-shirt and dove gray shorts that struggle to contain his thigh muscles. The slight breeze rustles his hair, and Dom has the audacity to finger-comb the dark, silky waves off his forehead.
It’s been two months since our Alabama trip, and Dom’s attractiveness has not dimmed in the slightest.
Damn him.
The fact that I keep noticing his handsomeness drives home the importance of getting through these trips faster. The less time in his presence, the better.
Why? I silently rail at my lovingly evil brother. Why did you have to stick me with this loathsome panty-melting man?
But Josh is not here to answer for his crimes. Still, I can hear his teasing voice as if he were standing next to me.
Time to get you out of your comfort zone, Magpie.
Well, he’d succeeded. Being around Dom is the most uncomfortable zone I could be in.
Dom frowns down at me. “Combined them?”
I mentally bring up a map. “Aren’t South Dakota and North Dakota just north of here? We could’ve knocked three out in one go.”
Dom’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t disagree.
I want him to argue with me. Whenever I think about how he held my hand for that brief moment in the canyon and used my birthday as a safe combination and found a cozy cabin to stay in because I hate hotels, my thoughts crash and collide in a jumble I can’t sort through. I need the simplicity of animosity.
“Are you ready for the letter?” Dom changes the subject by pulling an envelope from his shoulder bag.
Kansas is scrawled across the creamy paper followed by a set of coordinates that led us here, to the street outside this old theater. I glance up at the marquee to see they have the latest Tom Cruise action movie out but also are running a classic.
Jurassic Park .
Good choice , I silently say to Josh, almost smiling. I wonder if he somehow knew the theater would be playing one of our go-to movies, or if this was a lucky turn of fate. When Dom told me the destination, I was grateful the task would only involve sitting in a dark theater where we don’t have to talk to each other. I just hope Josh doesn’t expect us to sprinkle his ashes in the popcorn maker or something.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Dom hands the missive to me, and I ignore the spike of awareness that prickles across my nerves when our fingers brush. Gently, I tear the flap open and slip out the words from my brother.
Another piece of him.
Dear Maddie & Dom,
Welcome to Kansas!
This is a trip I truly regret missing, especially now that I know you two are taking it in my place.
On my travels, I met all kinds of people, and sometimes those chance encounters had unexpected results. I took a picture one time, and that single shot earned me a favor I never got to cash in. But I called, explained my situation, and asked that the debt be transferred to you.
Reggie and Carmen were happy to oblige.
If you followed my coordinates correctly, you should see a shop called Ink Ever After.
I pause reading, surprised that he named somewhere other than the theater.
Did we get the coordinates wrong?
“Hell, Josh,” Dom mutters.
I follow his stare across the street and immediately see what caught his eye. There, sitting tucked between a dry cleaner and a florist, is a shop with colorful designs painted on the window and a sign above the door that says: Ink Ever After .
And beneath the name… Custom Tattoos .
“This is a joke!” When my shrill exclamation reminds me of Aunt Florence at the funeral, I cringe, but quickly get over it and press on. “Josh isn’t expecting us to get one, is he? I mean, I want to get a tattoo. Eventually. When I decide on the right thing. And thoroughly vet the artist.”
Dom is silent as I pace on the sidewalk and rant about the injustice. I stop to drag in a few deep breaths, worried that just the thought of what this letter is asking will bring on an asthma attack. Dom reaches out to pluck the paper from my lax fingers.
Then the unaffected asshole keeps reading.
If you can’t tell from the outside, it’s a tattoo shop.
Calm down, Maddie. I can hear you panicking beyond the grave.
I let out a strangled shriek. After raising his eyes for a quick scan of my body, Dom goes back to reading.
You’ve wanted a tattoo since you were sixteen. It’s time to commit, Magpie. Your life is only so long.
Dom clears his throat, and the hint of emotion on his part slows my descent into complete panic. He continues.
Dom, I know you think tattoos are a permanent, often unsightly mistake…
I choke on a surprised laugh because, damn, I’ve heard the man say exactly that.
Josh knows us both. Too well.
…but you’re going to get one. Because I’m asking you to. Hear that, Maddie? Dom’s getting one.
Are you going to let him show you up?
“Fuck you, Josh!” I shout at the paper in Dom’s hands.
And I swear I spy a twitch at the corner of my companion’s mouth. Like the bastard wants to smirk at me.
Does he think I’ll back out, too?
Once you have your ink, take a pic for me. Then ask Reggie where to spread my ashes.
Oh yeah. That’s the other thing. He’s sworn not to reveal the location until his needle has touched your skin.
You kids have fun! Take lots of pictures!
Love,
Josh
“I honestly didn’t think he could piss me off anymore,” I growl. “But this?” I wave a frantic hand across the street at the waiting tattoo shop with its green neon OPEN sign bright even in the midday light.
Dom carefully folds the letter, tucks it into his back pocket, and steps up to the curb, ready to cross the street.
“You’re doing it. You’re getting a tattoo.” They aren’t questions, merely snarled accusations I lob at him.
He glances over his shoulder, one black brow curving upward. “Gonna let me show you up?”
Then the devil smiles before glancing both ways and jogging across the empty street.
Anger seethes in my chest as I follow him.
Of course I follow.
Josh knows me.
Despite hurrying on ahead, Dom waits for me outside the shop, and he holds the door open when I reach his side. With another glare, I stalk into the space and bite down on my gasp.
It’s just so…cool.
The floor is a dark polished wood covered in intricately patterned rugs. The walls are a collage of colorful art pieces, framed and hung in an attractive disarray. A waiting area full of wingback chairs sits off to the left, beside two floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with worn books.
A slim white man with ink designs crawling up his neck sits behind a high counter, and over his shoulder I spy a Black woman with just as many illustrations on her skin bent over a buff bearded man’s shoulder. Her hands hold a buzzing tattoo gun as she sketches a flaming skull into the man’s tan skin.
“Welcome to Ink Ever After,” the guy at the desk says with an easy smile. “How can I help you?”
All my righteous fury fizzles in the face of reality, and I glance to Dom for guidance. Then immediately chide myself for relying on him in any way.
Still, Dom takes the lead. “Does the name Josh Sanderson mean anything to you?”
The whir of the tattoo gun cuts off, and silence overtakes the shop. The man who greeted us loses his smile and runs wide eyes over us, taking Dom and me in as if we’re both fascinating and concerning.
I shift on my feet, wondering exactly what favor my brother did for this man.
“Are you Maddie and Dom?” he asks after a prolonged pause.
I nod, then feel the heat of a hand on my lower back.
“We are,” Dom says.
I’m about to elbow him and step away when the tattoo guy’s next words distract me.
“So, Josh is gone, then.”