A Possessive Claim of Ink

1. Atticus

ONE

ATTICUS

Blinking, I tip my head back and stare up at the huge, industrial-looking warehouse in front of me.

When I told my baby sister, Tori, that Felix and I were going to move to Rockhead Point, I’d planned on us renting an apartment and a separate studio.

But when I couldn’t find anything suitable, I started looking for a property that had the potential to become the space we needed, and this is what I landed on.

The grainy, weather-worn brick facade isn’t attractive in a conventional way, but I quite like the years of history that are etched into the literal walls of the place my brother and I are going to be calling home.

When we purchased it, the building was just a huge open space with high ceilings and dirty concrete floors.

But now it looks unrecognizable. After we completed the sale, I hired an architect and Betty Barnett’s husband, who brought in his construction crew and converted this place from an empty high-ceiling warehouse into a split-level home with our loft on the first floor and a huge open-plan studio space for Felix to work out of on the ground floor.

I guess to some people, still sharing an apartment with my brother at my age might seem odd, but Felix and I are twins. We’re close, so much closer than I can explain to anyone who doesn’t share their soul.

Felix is my person. He’s quirky as fuck, and he needs me, but I need him just as much. He’s my levity and the only person capable of dragging me from my black moods. He makes me less selfish, less grumpy, and generally just a better human being.

Living anywhere without him is unthinkable.

The loft is a huge space consisting of two large master suites with bathrooms and dressing rooms. The rest of the square footage is open-plan living space with as much natural light as we could incorporate into an industrial building.

But the best thing about it is that we have no neighbors. None at all. The warehouse came with an acre of land. Not enough to do anything with, but enough space that no one will complain about Felix blasting his music all night long while he works or any of the sounds that I make either.

“I like it,” Felix says, stepping past me and straight into his studio space, talking so quickly that his stressed-out PA, Marcus, already looks completely overwhelmed.

Luckily, Felix isn’t the type of boss who would fire his employee for not being able to keep up with his constant stream of demands.

Because while he can’t stop himself from talking at a million miles an hour, he understands he’s lucky that Marcus will have understood most of his requests and have them actioned in a matter of hours.

My brother is an artist—a sculptor. He has the ability to take a hunk of stone and turn it into a masterpiece. He might be particular and chaotic, but he’s also a genius, and who the fuck am I or anyone else to interrupt his creative flow?

Leaving Felix, Marcus, and the moving crew who I hired to transport his tools and the massive slabs of marble he’ll be working on to do their thing, I bypass the studio and make my way up the metal stairs toward our living space.

When I push open the thick metal door, all the tension I’ve been feeling from the journey here fades away.

While Felix enjoys control over his workspace, he doesn’t care where he lives, which is why this is my space, my sanctuary.

The hardwood floors are a dark, warm brown, the couches are super soft cream clouds, and the sheepskin rugs on the floor are soft enough to kneel on for hours without your knees ever hurting.

The kitchen is made up of dark wooden cabinets and warm cream marble counters with a golden vein running through them. The fixtures are all gold, rich, and luxurious, and the appliances are state of the art and sleek black glass.

The further I venture into the loft, the calmer I become.

Heading for Felix’s room first, I push open the door and smile.

The decorator I hired did exactly what I requested.

His space is calm, peaceful, and entirely generic.

I’d love for him to enjoy the hints of luxury that I prefer, but he hates things that smell, feel, or sound a certain way.

So to keep him calm and happy, he’s had the same basic Target sheets on his bed, the same towels, the same body wash, the same blinds at every place we’ve stayed since we moved out of our parents’ house when Felix went to art school.

That was when we realized that living apart didn’t work for either of us.

We’d only been out of the house for a few months, but when we’d gone home for Christmas, Felix had been an absolute wreck.

Instead of being distracted by his art, he’d been anxious and frantic, the worst I’d seen him in years.

So instead of celebrating the holidays, I’d spent the time reaching out to every tattoo artist in the city he was going to college in until I found someone willing to take me on as an apprentice.

After New Year’s, when he’d gone back to school, I’d gone back with him, and instead of him struggling in the dorms, we moved into an apartment.

Once we were together again, things got better for both of us, and we’ve been living together ever since.

Closing his door behind me, I cross the hall and step into my bedroom, a slow grin spreading across my face as I take in the space.

My bed is custom-made and enormous, bigger than a California super king and high enough to comfortably bend someone over while I fuck or do other things to them.

My sheets are Egyptian cotton and so soft they feel like silk.

My floor is covered in a huge rug that is thick and soft and comfortable.

Instead of a closet, I designed a walk-in closet and dressing area.

It’s incredibly indulgent, but I like clothes, and we plan to stay here for the foreseeable future, so why the fuck shouldn’t I have what I want?

Inside my closet, the cabinetry is built with blackened wood and backlit with recessed lighting that brightens the moment you step into the room.

Thanks to the moving service I hired, my clothes are already hanging on the rails, and my belts, jewelry, and accessories are all displayed in the glass cases I had designed specifically for them.

As I make my way through the home I orchestrated to meet every one of my needs, more and more of my stress dissolves until my chest feels light and each breath feels like pure oxygen.

This is what I need. It’s how I design my life—to keep me as calm as possible. If a stranger were to look around the space I’ve created for my brother and me, I imagine they’d see me as high maintenance, but truthfully, I don’t need that much to be comfortable.

I need the things around me to be calm and peaceful, and I need my brother to be calm and peaceful. That’s it.

My family and I grew up in Montana, but neither Felix nor I have lived here since we were eighteen.

After he finished art school and I finished my tattoo apprenticeship, we moved around a fair bit, trying to find places that inspired Felix.

The last few years, we’ve been settled in New York, and it’s only because we visited our baby sister, and she told us how much she missed us, that we decided to move.

Tori has made this tiny town her home. She’s settled here and living her dream of owning a French-style patisserie. But my siblings and I have always been close, so if Felix and I have to give up the hustle and bustle of a big city for a chance to be near her again, then we were happy to do it.

Growing up, our house was full of kids and a lot of chaos.

Our parents had Felix and me, then Tori, and then finally a second set of twins, Jude and August. Mom and Dad were never bad parents, they’re just kind of lovable flakes—well-intentioned but the worst people to call in a crisis.

So as kids, we all learned that between the five of us, we could handle any messes that we got into without getting our parents involved and us potentially getting into trouble.

What started off as basic kid shit—broken ornaments, bad report cards, and fights with mean kids—evolved into Felix, Tori, August, Jude, and me becoming a unit.

The five of us against the world. Our lives might have taken us in different directions, but ultimately, I think we’ve always known that we’d eventually settle close to each other.

Tori moving in with her boyfriend, Nero, was the most recent catalyst to draw us back together, and then realizing how much she missed us was the motivation the four of us needed to instigate a change. Now, for the first time in years, we’re all living in Montana again.

August and Jude are professional hockey players, so in theory they have no control over their location.

But I recently tattooed Porter Newfield, the owner of the latest NHL expansion team.

He loved the tattoo I did for him so much, he gave me his number and told me to give him a call if I ever needed anything.

I don’t think he was expecting me to actually call, but when I told him that my brothers were the hockey superstar twins who had been making a serious name for themselves since they were drafted, and that they were interested in moving back to Montana, he jumped on the opportunity.

A few weeks ago, August and Jude became the latest acquisitions for the closest NHL team to Rockhead Point—the Montana Mountain Marauders.

Since they joined the team, they’ve been living in a condo that the club provided while they get settled in. The rink is a little over an hour away from here, and they plan to move to town once the season finishes and they have some downtime.