Epilogue
Berlyn
“Sit like a good girl and there will be a reward, Baby Girl,” Jude promises, lurking over West.
I roll my eyes, if they can do this, I can do it too.
It feels right that Weston is giving me my first ever tattoo. Maybe my only tattoo depending how this goes. They’ve really been building it up all week since I asked West to give me one.
Like this is going to be extremely painful.
Everyone except West. He has full faith in me sitting like a good girl. He whispered all the ways he’s going to reward me afterwards too.
“You sure you want it on your ribs?” Ezra questions for at least the hundredth time, rubbing his own ribcage.
They’re such worrywarts. Who knew there was so much anxiety hiding under those hot tattooed exteriors? Apparently, they save it all for me. Tenfold.
I stretch out, laying on my side as West shaves and cleans the area I want it. “Yes,” I repeat again. The tattoo has all the meaning in the world, something West and I carefully designed and drew together. Taking turns to add our own details.
It’s everything I’ve been through. Everything we’ve been through. From the moment I bumped into West that day years ago, to the moment I realized the empty space in my chest started growing new life. When I finally found the strength to fight back.
Having West tattoo this design feels like the closing of the book.
Not because the story is over, but because we’re living out our happily ever after.
What better place than over the rib my father broke? It healed forever ago, no longer twinging with discomfort. Not even on the rare cold days we see in California.
We all wanted a fresh start once we graduated. We were in our last year and only had a few more months after everything went down with my father. It seemed like the perfect time to relocate. I could never go back into the house where my father died.
Where we killed him.
I finally understand Summer when she talks about her step-father. There’s no regrets from me, even knowing I had a hand in his death. Not the killing blow. But I made my mark.
It’s not guilt that bubbles up in me when I think about it. It’s not euphoria either. Not even relief, though that exists inside of me as well. No, what I feel more than anything is pride. Proud and worthy.
I breathe deeply as West’s large hand rests on my ribcage. He arches a brow in silent question and I smile and nod.
His smirk is slow. “Words.”
“I’m ready,” I promise. The buzzing of the machine starts and it’s louder than I thought it would be, but in a weirdly soothing way.
Ezra and Jude grimace as they watch the needle touch skin. I want to tense, but West’s hand soothes me, reminding me to stay as relaxed as I can. The buzzing changes, but only slightly. Vibrations shake my ribcage, an odd but somewhat calming sensation.
It doesn’t hurt too bad. More of an irritation as it feels like being scratched in the same spot over and over again. I relax further into the table. This isn’t so bad at all.
Time slips by and I close my eyes, falling into the place I always go to avoid pain. It’s no longer cold and barren. The flickers of warmth have grown, illuminating the best parts of my life. The sweet and tender moments my men are constantly creating for me.
“Is she sleeping?” Jude asks in shock.
My eyes flicker open and I realize I had dozed off for a bit. I yawn, wanting to stretch, but remembering not to move. The scratching sensation has grown into more of a stinging sensation, but still bearable.
West smirks, wiping over his work and my brows furrow. Ouch. That part hurt more than the needles. “Almost done,” he tells me and I yawn again.
“She’s psychotic,” Jude declares, smacking Ezra’s chest.
“You guys over exaggerated how painful this was going to be,” I accuse. It’s not necessarily pleasant, but it is soothing in a weird way.
Maybe one day I’ll have as many tattoos as they do. The thought makes me grin.
“Knew you’d take it like a good girl,” West whispers and I blush.
They’ve put me in every position known to mankind but they still make me blush like a virgin. I don’t know if that will ever stop.
“You ready to see?”
Nerves and excitement bubble in my stomach, and I want to squeal but also close my eyes. So much thought and work went into designing this. I know it’s going to be perfect, but I’m almost scared to turn this last page.
I take a deep breath, meeting the smiling eyes of all three of my men. They look more in love with me than ever. I nod and West helps me sit up and then stand, moving me in front of the mirror where I can see it.
The gasp escapes me before I can even process what I’m seeing. It’s more perfect than I ever could have pictured. Of course I saw it on paper, but somehow the permanence of it being marked on my skin over the scars my father left is so much more.
Tears fill my eyes as my eyes track over the broken and run down Ferris wheel now decorating my rib cage.
So similar to the one they all have on their chests but mine is surrounded by dahlias and chrysanthemums in deep reds and purples contrasted with lighter shades of asters and camellias.
The same flowers they sent me when they were stalking me.
Vines grow and twine around the spokes of the Ferris wheel, new growth blooming in the destruction once left behind, filling the holes until it feels whole once more.
Like it could start spinning again at any moment.
“It’s perfect.”
Like a Ferris wheel, life is always going to have its ups and downs. There will be moments where I’m flying and feel weightless like I could reach up and touch the sky. Pluck one of the millions of stars I’ve wished on right out of the sky and keep it in my pocket.
Inevitably, there will also be moments where I fall low. Where the magic that lives in the sky and stars feels unreachable. Unattainable and all that surrounds you is the scary things the world has to offer.
Ezra, Jude, and Weston have reminded me what my mother taught me so long ago as we rode on our favorite ride.
What my father stole from me over and over again.
For better, or for worse, life will keep turning.
The Ferris wheel never stops spinning and the scary things never stop existing. Both things can be true at once.
My men have become my Ferris wheel. Even when things get dark, even when I hit my lowest lows, more than anything I know, they will always be there to lift me back in the sky where the magic lives.
The strength to fight back, to know that I’ll survive even when we hit those lows, because I’ll never be alone again.
They gave me back the magic of the Ferris wheel.