25. Ian
TWENTY-FIVE
IAN
Three months later
“Baby, calm down.”
Julian’s eyes narrow to slits before he gently closes them again. I know he’s nervous, but I’m trying to lighten the tension a bit. “You’re not the one with a needle at your neck.”
I sit back and watch him. Fuck my man is cute. “We don’t have to. If you can’t handle it—”
“Oh, fuck off. Ninety five percent of me is tattooed. The neck freaks me out, though.”
“Still time to change your mind. I mean . . .” I look down, dragging my fingers over the crotch of his jeans. “I know another part that isn’t tattooed.”
He blinks flatly then leans his head back. “Go ahead.”
I know he’s just a little scared. Julian has always sat well for me, and the fact that he’s trusting me to do this warms me.
I print out the stencil of my lips and press it gently to his skin while sitting in his lap.
His hands are on my hips, but I keep my hands steady. “It won’t take long,” I whisper.
He pops his eye open then closes it again. “It’s fine, just freaks me out.”
“I’ll take care of you.” I press a kiss under his ear on the opposite side. It’s honestly hard for me to keep my hands off him. I’m happy he doesn’t mind me this clingy. He drives me fucking crazy.
“Did yours hurt bad?”
“Honestly, not as bad as the center of my chest. That nearly took me out.”
Julian sighs, shifting a little in the chair. I know he’s not worried about the pain. It’s the idea of it that’s freaking him out. “I’m fine, just distract me.”
I get off his lap then lower his seat down and elevate my stool before I wash my hands and pull on a pair of black gloves. Carefully I lay the stencil on and gently peel it back. It’s perfect there, right along his throat. “Do you remember the day we met?”
“Of course.” He smiles that lopsided grin that has my whole heart.
I begin to set up my ink. “Do you want them black and gray or red?”
Julian thinks for a moment. Most of his tattoos are black and gray. “Do red.”
“Coming right up.” I find a beautiful shade of deep red that will look beautiful on his deep brown skin.
I take the tiny ink cups and stick them on the paper with the jelly.
Pouring a little ink in each, I watch him and fuck, it hits me so hard sometimes.
I haven’t been this happy in forever. It’s not the same as with Maddox, and that’s what I needed to come to terms with.
I’ve been going to a grief support group to help me.
My grief is mine to live with, and I’m not sure why it never occurred to me to get help before.
We meet once a month and it’s been an eye-opening experience.
I’ve gone through all the stages of grief except acceptance.
That’s been the hardest one to deal with.
I will never be loved that way again because there will never be another him. It doesn’t have to feel the same. Julian loves me differently, and it’s just the way this version of me needs.
Losing Maddox shaped me in ways I didn’t realize.
Maddox is gone, and so is the version of me he loved so much.
I’ve been through a lot, trying so hard to hang onto the little pieces of my old life that I didn’t realize it was killing me too.
I’m not that guy. Bitter and hateful. I love art.
I love tattooing. I have amazing friends and a thriving business.
This is my life, and I’ve been so privileged to do this because Maddox fought like hell. Honoring him means making this shop thrive. It means finding happiness in my life every day. Just the way he would have.
Julian has been incredible too. He’s so damn smart and handles the financial side so much better than I could. We’ve hired new artists, and we have a new look and a new name.
It’s all thanks to him.
“Ready?”
Julian takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“If you need to stop, just let me know, okay.” Throat tattoos suck. I remember when Maddox did mine, and yeah, it’s not fun at all. This should be quick, though.
“Why did you ask me about that day?”
I turn on the machine. “Don’t talk, okay. Just listen.”
I begin the outline and feel his palm lie on my knee with a soft squeeze. “Not so bad, huh?” I whisper, knowing he won’t answer me. “Squeeze hard if you need to me stop.”
I begin the outline of my lips. I want it to be hyperrealistic, but that will depend on how well he sits right now.
“The day we met I was drawing that lion you have on your ribs.” I focus on the fine lines, making sure they’re perfect before I begin shading.
“I’d drawn that lion almost every single day since Maddox died.
It was the tattoo he was going to have me do when we opened the shop.
His first tattoo in the shop he worked his ass off to get. ”
“When you came in, I was the worst I think I’d been. Worse than the day I found out he passed. I felt helpless and tired and I just wanted it all to end. Then you came in and it was like seeing the sun for the first time in months.” His thumb brushes across my thigh. “Are you okay?”
His thumb taps me twice. I start to shade the lips. The deep crimson red pops beautifully. I focus on packing in color, smiling to myself. It’s looking great. He’s doing so well for me, like I knew he would.
“You’re amazing, babe.”
He smiles slightly and I continue.
“When you came into the shop it was like I took my first real breath of air in months. I didn’t know you yet, but I knew I wanted to get to know you. You kept coming back. More lessons, more tattoos.” That makes him smile gently. “You’ve just wowed me every single day since you came into my life.”
I swallow, getting more ink.
“I haven’t been easy to deal with and I’m sorry for that.
I’m sorry it took me this long to realize just how much you mean to me.
What this actually meant.” I’m nearly done, and he squeezes my knee a couple of times, but more as a reassurance.
“You’re the most loving, funny, smart, and fucking beautiful man.
I’m so grateful that you didn’t give up on me, even when I wanted to give up on myself.
I love you so much. It’s crazy how much.
I feel like I may explode with it. Every time I see you now I can’t believe I never saw it before.
That there was ever a time you could walk past me and I didn’t want to throw my arms around you.
Or kiss you. Or hold you. You didn’t give up on me and I’ll repay that back tenfold for the rest of our lives.
You are special to me in every single way. ”
I stop the machine and look at the lips.
I carefully clean the tattoo and smile wide.
Damn. His head lolls toward me, soft brown eyes filled with so much love.
I slide onto his lap and watch him gather himself.
He sighs then smiles. “I love you. So much.” He kisses me hard, and I want to stay here in his lap but I have a tattoo to wrap. “Let me see.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No, it felt amazing,” he deadpans.
“Yeah, right, next up you’re going to get your entire throat tattooed. Don’t have much space left anywhere else.” My brows rise with my thought. “I could tattoo your ass?”
“No fucking thank you.”
“What? There’s a lot of thick, gorgeous, delicious space I could use.” I grab his ass. He swats my hand then goes over to the mirror.
“Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
My arms snake around his waist and I kiss his shoulder. “Just saying. I can tattoo ‘Ian’s late-night snack’ right along the curve of your cheek.” He laughs harder. I nip his shoulder. His hand rests on top of mine.
The bell above the door rings and I almost pull back, but it’s Anna. “Ugh, gross. Can’t you two fornicate upstairs?”
“Fornicate?”
Jules slips out of my arms. “Ian’s trying to give me an ass tattoo.”
“I hate that I caused this.” Anna sets her bag down just as the phone rings. It rings again and again. Ignoring the call, she looks through her black studded purse.
“Anna!”
“What?” She glares at us.
“Phone. We talked about this.”
“Ugh! Fine.” She picks up the phone, shooting us both a scowl. “Infinity Ink, how can I tickle your titties today?”
“Oh my god, we need to fire her,” Jules murmurs.
“You going to do it?”
“Hell no, confrontation is your department.” He grins at me.
“Thanks for the tattoo.” He kisses me quick.
“I have one to set up for.” I watch Anna flip open the planner.
We’ve gotten a lot closer lately. She’s still .
. . well, Anna, but I don’t know. It’s like a lot of negative energy has left this place.
“Ian,” Anna calls. “When will Miles be in today?”
“I don’t even think Miles knows when Miles will be in today.” My newest artist doesn’t run on earthling time. As he says, he’s an amazing artist who specializes in new school. Bright and bold colors. He’s great. He’s just. . . well, he’s Miles. “Just get their number and he can call them back.”
I walk over to Anna’s desk, grabbing the schedule for the day and making a mental note of Julian’s appointments.
Our bell rings again, and a flash of bright red hair catches my attention.
“Hey,” I say to Phe as she walks by. She rests her tattooed arms on the counter, looking over it.
Phoenix started nearly three months ago.
She’s from Arizona but moved up here earlier this year to take care of her sick mother.
Her orange and red ombre wavy bob covers the appointment book as she curls over the counter to look.
“I think I have two today. One’s a big piece.
” She specializes in realism, and her tattoos are some of the most realistically beautiful tattoos I’ve ever seen.
“Babe, you know you have an appointment at eleven and another at three, right?”
Julian nods, setting up his station. “Got ’em right here.” He points to the sticky notes on his mirror. I only have one piece later this afternoon, but I have some things I have to get done beforehand. “Where’s Nico? He’s got a couple of appointments soon,” I ask Phe.
“Why are you asking me?” She shrugs. “I’m not his keeper.”