9. BRIGGS
CHAPTER NINE
brIGGS
AUTUMN: My last appointment was cancelled. Wanna meet up?
AUTUMN: That’s not your address. That’s a tattoo parlor…
brIGGS: Congratulations. You know how to Google.
AUTUMN: Shut up, asshole. Why am I meeting you at Valhalla Ink?
brIGGS: I’m getting a tattoo finished and figured you might be interested. If you’re not, that’s cool. We can get together later.
AUTUMN: …No, that’s okay. We can meet there. Maybe I’ll get a tiny tattoo myself to see what it’s like.
brIGGS: There’s my brave valkyrie.
Valhalla Ink has been my go-to tattoo parlor ever since they opened in Suitor’s Crossing six months ago. They’re the second location to the popular original shop located in Guardian Valley, Montana, which went viral a few years ago on social media.
I’m not one to get permanent ink based on what the internet deems popular, but the co-owner, Archer St. James, is one of Connor’s best friends. I figure the best friend of my best friend’s brother can’t be that bad, and his lead tattoo artist is talented as hell.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Archer offers me a fist bump while I wait for Milo to start working on the motorcycle tat on my left bicep.
“Good. You? How’s your uncle?”
Archer shrugs and a shield falls over his eyes. “He’s alright. We’re all just keeping the faith, you know?”
“Yeah, I understand.” I may not have family I keep in contact with, but if Cormac or Deacon, or hell, even Connor, were sick with a terminal illness, I’d be praying for miracles, too.
The bell above the parlor door rings, offering the perfect distraction from the morbid turn of my thoughts.
Autumn shuffles inside with curiosity coursing over her features. Her gaze bounces over the walls covered in framed photos of past clients before landing on me, partially blocked from the front waiting area by a waist-level partition.
Technically, Valhalla Ink has rooms for privacy, but I never mind being exposed to the public during a session. I’ve never been one to worry about making other people uncomfortable, and a bare arm or chest doesn’t bother me.
“Welcome to Valhalla Ink,” Archer turns to say. “Do you have an appointment?”
“She’s with me,” I interject, waving Autumn forward to a rolling stool beside me.
She sits with a playful huff. “I could have an appointment. Maybe try a little exposure therapy.”
My brows wrinkle in consternation. “With your fear of needles?”
“That’s why it would be exposure therapy. I could get something tiny that wouldn’t hurt as much.”
Milo looks up from his position on my other side. “You could also have it done in a spot without too many nerve endings.”
“Oh, you’re right!” she exclaims. “I haven’t really thought about placement.”
“But you’ve thought about what kind of tattoo you’d get?” I ask, studying her suddenly vibrating form. Right now, her pale skin is clear and smooth, not a mark in sight. Virgin.
But I can’t deny that a tattoo would be damn sexy, too.
Autumn bites her lip then nods. “Autumn leaves for my name. Is that cliché? Or stupid?”
“No, and clichés exist for a reason,” Milo says, leaning over my arm again.
“Trust me, people get all sorts of names on them.” Archer clicks around on the front computer, and a color-coded schedule appears on the screen. “At least this will be in honor of you rather than a boyfriend who may not last.”
Milo pauses to laugh. “Please don’t get ‘Briggs’ tattooed on your ass.”
Autumn and I share a stunned look, not sure how to respond. We’re not exactly dating. We’re just friends with benefits. But that’s not something you share with strangers, or the guys you’re semi-friendly with at the tattoo parlor.
“Um, no… Definitely not getting ‘Briggs’ tattooed anywhere.”
Now, why does that kind of bother me? Like she’d never let my name dirty her flesh. I grit my teeth, and my jaw pops from the harsh pressure.
“Back to the fall leaves. If you’re serious, Sutton should be here soon. Her first appointment isn’t for another hour, so she could do yours.”
“Really?”
“Really. Want me to officially book it?” Archer nods toward the computer.
Autumn licks her lips and looks at me.
“It’s up to you, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll be here.”
She hesitates another second before facing Archer. “Okay, let’s do it.” As if on cue, Sutton saunters out of the back room where the employees enter the shop.
“Do what?” she asks as Milo and Archer wave hello.
“If you’re Sutton, I’m your next client.” Autumn stands and reaches a hand out before pulling it back in an awkward stance. “Sorry, I’m not sure what the protocol is here.”
“No worries, you’re good… and you’re nervous,” Sutton guesses with a soft smile. “I’m excellent with beginners. This will be your first tattoo?” She gestures for Autumn to follow her to her station across the room, and the two women fall into easy chatter.
“You’re all set my friend.” Milo sits back after adding the final after care touches.
Tearing my gaze away from Autumn, who’s lifting her curls off her neck, I check out the finished product in the mirror. “Nice, man. I’m glad we finally got this done.”
“Excited to start your next one already?” he jokes as he cleans up his area.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Not quite yet, but this one became more complicated than I expected. Not a bad thing; it just took longer, that’s all.”
“Well, you’re good to go now. Why don’t you comfort your girl? I can ring you both up afterwards.”
Thanking him, I head over to Autumn, and not a moment too soon it seems because there’s a wet sheen over her eyes.
I collapse onto another rolling stool and grab her clammy hand.
“Hey, hey, hey… All jokes aside, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” I stroke the back of her hand where her white knuckles stand out against her skin.
“I know. I-I want to do this. It’s one tiny tattoo. How bad can it be?” Her lips tremble around the words. Her slightly panicked gaze bores into mine.
“That’s the spirit, baby.” I pet her hand and arm before landing on the back of her neck and gently squeezing. “Where did you decide to put the tattoo?”
She motions to the exposed skin behind her ear. So, that’s why she put her hair up in a ponytail.
“Sutton suggested it. Said it shouldn’t hurt too badly, and that a lot of people find the vibration soothing there.”
“But we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Sutton reiterates as she starts cleaning the spot.
“I want to. I promise. Even if I’m acting like a baby.”
“You’re nervous. It’s a needle jabbing into your skin; it’s a natural reaction,” I say.
“Okay, let’s not use the word jabbing when referring to needles near my head.”
“Oh, so you’re okay to joke still. Gotcha…” I grin and move my hand out of the way for Sutton to adjust Autumn’s head. Her eyes never leave mine.
Like I’m worthy of her trust.
Worthy of being the one she turns to for comfort.
Fuck. I rub a fist over my sternum and the ache forming below. This isn’t good.
But the unsettling feeling doesn’t stop me from letting Autumn crush my fingers with hers at the first touch of the needle to her skin.
Or halt the quiet rumble of comforting praises spilling from my lips every time she tenses or releases the smallest whimper.
The tattoo doesn’t take very long, yet by the time Sutton is finished, my muscles are sore as if I ran a marathon, and Autumn looks just as exhausted.
“You did good, baby.” I help her sit up and can’t resist swiping away the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye.
“Did I?” Autumn closes her eyes and shudders. “I feel like a wimp who barely held it together. If it weren’t for you…”
“Shh… You were brave. You overcame a fear. That’s badass,” I promise. Sutton agrees with a nod of her head.
“Badass.” Autumn mutters the word under her breath a few times as if testing its weight. As if my opinion matters.
And the damn ache in my chest grows stronger.