Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Rory
Amonth with Wyatt had flown by, and I was happier than ever.
I’d never pegged myself as the relationship type, but Wyatt was insatiable in bed and a constant, stable sort that balanced me out. I would never have expected that anyone could tolerate my ADHD ass long term, but he weathered it with ease.
He’d supported me in my hundreds of daily meltdowns leading up to the tattoo convention.
I couldn’t pinpoint why this event was so important to me—maybe because I was responsible for this stall and Owen trusted me to represent the business—but I wanted the day to go perfectly.
And my anxiety shot into the stratosphere.
Wyatt had been there with Nyx and me to set up, and he was sticking around for the whole shift.
Even Harper planned on showing today to support us, and while I’d initially been worried about how she’d react about me dating her dad, we were closer than ever.
And I appreciated the external connection even more since she was leaving Alchemy Ink in a few months to head to vet school.
“How’re you feeling?” Wyatt whispered in my ear, his hand on my shoulder.
We stood at the booth, the sound from the sheer volume of people in the convention center amplified.
Bright lights beamed down from the ceilings, and the space echoed.
I leaned against him, soaking in his sturdiness.
Now that we were here, some of the anxiety had faded—here, I was just going to be piercing, which was something I was comfortable with.
“I’m feeling horny, thanks,” I murmured back. “Want to dick me down in the bathroom?”
He reached down and squeezed my ass, which was still sore after the intense spanking he’d given me last night. I’d needed the stress relief, and he’d delivered in the best way. I sucked in a sharp breath, the jolt of adrenaline and lust something I never wanted to fade.
“I’ll take care of you tonight,” he responded.
“Guys, keep your shit to yourself,” Nyx called over from the other side of the booth.
Her girlfriend Becky had shown up to help as well, and we’d be seeing some other familiar faces here today.
Most of my siblings planned on stopping by at some point, more to harass me than to get any actual piercings done.
“Ready for this?” I asked Nyx, a frisson of nerves running through me.
“Better question is, are they ready for us?” Nyx shot back, a cockiness in her voice that resonated in me too.
I’d made it here, and with Wyatt’s help, I’d remembered my supplies. As much as this was a significant moment, breaking new professional ground for me, I hadn’t needed it in the end.
The moment my mom had said she and dad were proud of me had been all I’d really been searching for.
So today I’d kick ass, show off my skills, and get new clientele with the man I loved by my side. Those three words had been bubbling up more as of late, and the urge to tell him roared inside me.
Wyatt squeezed my nape, his possessive, callused grasp sending a shot of lust right through me. Fuck, this man was so damn sexy. It was a miracle I got anything done with his dick in my proximity.
If anyone was worth risking my heart for, it was him.
“You guys ready for launch?” Harper called over from farther down the exhibition hall. Owen and August trailed behind her.
“Clearly, you guys have such faith in us,” I said, crossing my arms.
Owen stopped in front of the booth and shook his head. “Nah, I’m just realizing I should get some promotional shots to put on socials. You had a damn good idea, Rory. This sort of publicity is smart.”
Owen’s praise warmed my chest, but I wasn’t about to have a full-on emotion fest here on the floor. “Don’t worry, Daddy Owen. We know it’s because you’re ancient.”
“Excuse me?” Wyatt muttered by my side, and he pinched me. I yelped.
Harper smirked at me. “You walked into that one, babe.”
“Also, Daddy Owen?” Wyatt asked, his brows raised.
I shrugged. “I mean, look at him.”
“Digging your own hole, I see,” Owen said, a grin on his lips. “The brat knows I’m not interested, and neither is he, Wyatt. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, I wasn’t worried.” Wyatt’s smug voice was nuclear-grade hot. Unf.
“Damn, this event looks like it’d be fun,” August said, glancing around at the other tattoo artists and piercers with their setups. “Can I work it next year?”
Owen snapped a few photos with his phone. “Yeah, I think this’ll be a regular thing, so long as you all want to do it. Too much noise for me, personally.”
“Okay, old man,” Nyx teased.
A girl who had to be freshly eighteen with a young face and tight ponytail wandered up to our booth, her sour-looking boyfriend trailing a few paces behind her. “Hey, you do piercings here?”
“Go get ’em,” Wyatt whispered behind me and stepped back.
“Yeah,” I said, the familiarity of my professional role settling over me. “You looking to get something done?”
“I’ve always wanted a bellybutton piercing. Do you think it’d be a good fit?” she asked. Her boyfriend clapped a hand on her shoulder, as if he was worried she was going to run off with me. Yeah, not remotely my type, bro.
“Bellybutton piercings are evergreen,” I said. “And with the amount of crop tops folks are wearing now, they’re great to show off.”
“Okay, I’m sold. Can I sign up here or do you have room now?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and this was what I loved about piercing. Helping people add that little bit of expression and individuality into their life. Giving them the dose of excitement they’d been searching for.
“Table’s right here,” I said, guiding her over to the cleared massage table. I glanced to her boyfriend. “You want to stand next to her for support?”
He let out a grunt, but he slipped around the table and held her hand.
Owen was hovering nearby, ready to take an action shot, and I rolled my eyes.
Wyatt and Harper were deep in discussion, and August chatted to Becky and Nyx, who were finalizing the setup for tattoos.
I wasn’t sure if I’d expected a gunshot to go off to start the convention, but it seemed like we’d already launched into motion.
I faced my new client, the same thrill rising inside me that I got whenever I set to work. “All right. Let’s get you pierced.”
Exhaustion flooded through me.
We’d made it through the tattoo show. Wyatt had stayed by my side the whole day, running to grab me food, coffee, water, whenever I needed it. Nyx and I had stayed consistently busy the entire time, which was longer than our shifts at the shop. I was lucky to still be upright.
“Come on, baby,” Wyatt said. “We’re almost to the parking garage.” He hiked bags of equipment over one shoulder and carried the massage table with the other arm. I managed a few bags, but damn, I didn’t know how he was upright after all the chaos today either.
“Mm, maybe I can make a nice bed for myself on the sidewalk,” I said, all plans of hitting the city tossed out the window. I was lucky if I’d stay awake for the drive home.
“Was the tattoo convention everything you hoped it would be?” he asked as we trekked along the crosswalk to the entrance of the parking garage.
Beyond the folks from Alchemy, my family had shown up too as promised.
Mom had threatened to get nipple piercings, and we both played chicken to the point I had the needles out and ready to pierce before she tapped out.
And Felix had been asking Wyatt about how he liked a Prince Albert, which meant I might have another one of those in my future.
Hell, the whole family and their significant others had turned out, which meant the world to me.
Even though Declan had only made it five minutes with his noise-cancelling earbuds in before he noped out.
Wyatt’s original question circulated through my veins. I’d built the tattoo convention up in my head as the best way to prove myself, but the last couple of months had taught me I didn’t have a damn thing to prove.
The people who loved me would accept me as is, and they were the only ones who mattered.
“This was fun as hell, but honestly? The best part of it was having you here with me,” I admitted, my voice dipping. My eyes heated a bit as we stepped under the yellow-orange lighting of the parking garage.
We reached Wyatt’s truck, and I dropped the bags I carried into his back cab. He threw all the shit he’d lugged in there too, and then he faced me, backing me up against his truck.
Those dark brown eyes searched mine, and he rested one hand on my hip, the other coming up to cup my cheek.
“I was so proud of you today,” he murmured.
“Watching you shine like that. You’re in your element dealing with people, and you underestimate your ability to make folks feel comfortable. To feel welcome.”
Fuck. My eyes burned.
“I love you.” The words escaped me unbidden, before I could rein them back in.
“I know you’re new to being bi, that we haven’t been dating that long, so don’t feel the need to say it back.
But Wyatt, you’ve healed me in ways you haven’t even realized, and I’m not just forever grateful—I’m completely and utterly in love with you. ”
His grin widened, a few teeth poking out, and the tenderness in his gaze set me on fire. My heart existed out of my chest in this moment, the tension between us amplified with the crisp night.
“Damn, do you know how long I’ve been holding back?” he said. “Rory, I’ve been in love with you from the moment we started dating. After living in a lukewarm relationship for so many years, I figured out fast that what I felt for you was what I’d been hoping for my whole life. You’re it for me.”
My vision glossed over. This was why I didn’t do feelings, because I had shit control over them once they were unleashed. “Dammit. Stop giving me emotions.”
“Not sorry about it,” he teased, stroking his rough thumb across my lower lip. I licked the tip, and a visible shiver coursed through him.
“Thanks for supporting me through today,” I said, wanting to get the rest of the emotional shit out of the way. It’d be far easier to hop into his car and give him head in the front seat—which wasn’t easy logistically, but was hella rewarding.
“Baby, I’m here with you through it all,” he said. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of finding, and now that I have you, I’m not letting go.”
My heart squeezed tight, even though it belonged to him.
I’d always been the difficult one, the troublemaker, and I’d been a thousand percent sure no one could ever deal with me long term.
It was a miracle my family did. Yet Wyatt had swept in and proved me wrong, and I loved him that much more for it.
He made me feel normal, as if I didn’t talk a million miles a minute, as if my impulse control wasn’t shit or that my forgetfulness would make an appearance daily.
Wyatt simply made me feel loved.
Every damn day.
“Let’s go home,” I said, even though we’d never discussed whose house we were heading to afterwards.
Truth be told, home was never about a place but the people, something I’d learned early on with my family.
And in Wyatt Anderson, I’d found mine.