Chapter 20 Reed
REED
Being back at work after a few days off was always a strange feeling.
The rhythmic buzzing of a coil machine is a hallmark of the tattoo studio.
The sound was normally something that grounded me.
But today? I’d redone the stencil on this guy’s forearm three times before I could get it on straight.
My hands weren’t shaky, but my focus kept sliding sideways.
I kept thinking back to last night. Back to the weight of her in my passenger seat. Her voice. Her eyes. Her lips.
Dax leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, like he had nothing to prove, and that’s because he didn’t.
He was the owner, after all. A Native from a reservation just north of Sawyers Cove.
He left around twenty years ago after his parents passed.
Even though he left for school and business, he never truly left it behind.
He was quiet, rooted, and steady. He was half white and half Native, and somehow both sides showed up in the way he carried himself.
It was like he had been raised between two worlds and learned how to hold his ground in both.
His long black hair was down today, falling over his shoulders in thick, unbothered waves.
The ends were still bleached, uneven, and sun-worn, something he had done a lifetime ago and never cared to fix.
It suited him. He looked effortlessly cool at thirty-eight years old.
His skin was golden and smooth, lightly freckled across the nose and cheekbones.
But there was nothing soft about him. His jaw was sharp.
His expression was sharper. His eyebrows were thick and dark, naturally angled in a way that made him look serious even when he wasn’t saying a word.
There was a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, twitching now and then as he chewed.
It was the same habit he picked up when he tried to quit smoking some odd years ago and never let go of.
His arms were crossed over his chest, and the black sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows, revealing the bold, intricate ink wrapped around both forearms. His posture looked casual, but Dax never really relaxed.
He always looked like he was waiting for something.
Either waiting to speak or waiting for someone to screw up.
After working alongside Dax for the past fourteen years, I was used to his unnerving presence.
He did not speak right away. He just looked at me with that familiar stare, the one that said he had been up since before the sun and had already thought through every move that might play out in the next hour.
There was something unreadable in his eyes.
Dax looked like trouble. And he wore it like it was his favorite thing in the world.
“Dude,” he said after I began peeling back the stencil. My client was finally content with how it looked.“You placed that design like 60 times. What’s going on with you?”
I explained to my client we were good to go, and he was welcome to get comfortable.
“Thanks, Reed. You don’t mind if I wear headphones, do you?” Tom was a regular who always wore headphones during tattoos and, on occasion, even fell asleep. Yet every time he was in here, he was sure to ask if he was allowed to do so.
“Of course, man.”
Once his headphones were on and he was lying down with his arm out on the armrest, I grabbed a paper towel and began tattooing my client’s arm, mumbling a reply to Dax, “Rough night.”
Dax raised an eyebrow. “Rough how? Like fight-club rough or you-got-your-heart-kicked-in rough?”
I shot him a look. “Neither.”
“Uh huh.” He pushed off the door frame, taking a few steps into the room, arms still crossed across his chest. “You’re not bad at hiding stuff, Reed. Just… rusty. So what happened?”
I glanced over at the client—thankfully, his eyes were already closed—and dropped my voice. “Saw someone I didn’t expect to see doing something they shouldn’t have been doing. Someone who shouldn’t have been anywhere near the person I give a damn about.”
Dax blinked once and uncrossed his arms. He looked shocked. “Whoa. Wait. You give a damn about someone?”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.” He grinned, but the tone sobered. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. Then, quieter, “She’s the one I was worried about.”
Dax leaned on the counter, eyes narrowing. “She?”
I didn’t answer.
He held his hands up. “Alright, alright. No names. Got it. But let me guess, some dude from her past shows up, you step in, now she’s tangled up and you’re stuck feeling like you’re drowning in someone else’s storm.”
I paused. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Dax studied me for a second. “Is she yours?”
The question hit harder than I expected.
“She’s… not,” I said finally. “Not yet. Maybe never. But I—I couldn’t not be there. When I found her last night…” My throat tightened, uninvited. “She looked so lost.”
Dax nodded slowly. “Sounds like you already crossed the line, man. Even if you haven’t said it out loud.”
I didn’t answer.
He bent down to whisper in my ear. “Finish this piece and then take a walk, clear your head. Or call her. Whatever helps you not mess up the next dragon tattoo.”
I gave a small smirk. “It’s a wolf.”
“Even worse,” he muttered, heading out of the room. “More lines to screw up.”
I continued the tattoo, thinking about the girl I hadn’t named and how much of my chest she’d unknowingly carved open in one single night.
After finishing the first tattoo of my day, I headed out back with water and a granola bar. The back alley behind the shop smelled like cigarettes and fresh-cut grass, but it was quiet. Quiet was rare on days like this.
I leaned against the brick wall, phone in hand, the hum of the tattoo gun still buzzing in my bones. My head hadn’t stopped running loops since I woke up this morning. Since her.
I didn’t have a name for what was happening between us. I just knew I wanted to be the one she turned to. Whether that meant showing up in the middle of the night or saying the right thing over text in the middle of a hangover morning.
My thumb hovered over her name for a second before I finally gave in and typed:
Me
You guys okay?
The reply came quicker than I expected.
Wren
Barely. There’s a very hungover Lena throwing up three feet from me. Harp’s been trying to get her to drink water like she’s a feral cat.
I laughed quietly, shaking my head.
Me
Sounds like you’re living the dream.
Wren
Living something, anyway. You survive your dragon-wolf-demon tattoo or whatever it is you’re doing today?
Me
Wolf. And yeah, still breathing. Dax keeps staring at me like I grew a second head.
Wren
You did go full knight-in-shining-hoodie mode last night. Maybe he’s just impressed.
I paused, reading that line over twice. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but I didn’t want to push. Not through text. Still, I had to say something.
Me
I keep thinking about the look on your face when I found you last night.
There was a longer pause this time. I watched the little typing bubble blink in and out, like she kept starting and stopping.
Finally, the text popped up.
Wren
I was scared. Not just of him. Of myself. Of how fast I forget what I deserve when someone like Tyler looks at me.
That one hit hard.
I ran a hand through my hair and let out a sigh.
Me
You didn’t forget. You fought it. You said no. That matters, Wren.
Wren
It only mattered because you were there.
I stared at the screen, heart tugging so hard it felt physical.
Before I could think better of it, I typed.
Me
I’ll always be there. You don’t even have to ask.
The typing bubble popped up again, then disappeared.
Then popped up again.
And finally—
Wren
What if I want to ask anyway?
A slow smile tugged at my mouth.
Me
Then you’re making my job too easy.
Wren
Sorry, gotta go, Harper’s about to throw Lena in the shower. Send help.
Me
On it. Once I finish up here, I’ll bring snacks and ginger ale.
Wren
You’re my hero.
I slipped the phone back in my pocket and leaned my head against the cool brick. A smile plastered on my face. God, what have I gotten myself into?
It was nearing ten at night when I arrived to drop off the care package at Lena and Harper’s apartment.
I really hated long days at the shop. I was shit at scheduling clients and somehow always ended up staying later than Dax.
When I knocked on their apartment door, I could hear a lot of talking and then loud footsteps.
Wren answered the door, a blush quickly creeping up on her face.
She went to let me in the apartment, but my sister said otherwise.
“Hey. Thank you for grabbing stuff, but you can’t come in.” She spoke quickly and took the bags from my hand.
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.
“Listen, she just stopped throwing up and is finally lying down on her couch. I don’t want her to feel obligated to move, to thank you, or anything. We love you and appreciate you, but you can’t stay.” She shot me an apologetic smile and walked back into the apartment.
Wren watched Harper walk away and quickly said, “I’ll text you,” before closing the door gently.
I huffed in annoyance, realizing I said nothing to either of them. Nothing I can do now but go home and wait for a text.
I pulled into my driveway and rested my head on the steering wheel, not quite ready to head inside.
When I finally got the willpower, I walked through the door of my house, and the first thing I heard was the opening riff of a punk song blasting from the kitchen. It was too late for this shit. Dax was standing over a skillet, flipping something in a pan like he was auditioning for a cooking show.
“Look who’s alive,” he called over his shoulder. “Where have you been?”
“Work took longer than expected. Really got to stop taking clients after a certain time.” I said, dropping my keys in the bowl by the door. “Then errands.”
He turned around, still holding the spatula, and narrowed his eyes. “You took that long to buy ramen and energy drinks?”
I gave him a look. “Not every errand has to do with ramen or Red Bull.”
“True, but they should be.” He tossed the spatula into the sink and leaned against the counter. “So where’d you go? You’ve got that ‘I saw someone important and now I’m spiraling in my man-feelings’ look.”
I didn’t respond right away. I just grabbed water from the fridge and leaned on the island.
“Dude, I swear to fuck, the closer you get to forty, the more you can read minds,” he laughed, and I continued talking. “I dropped off a hangover pack for a friend.”
“Ohhh, a friend,” he said, all too delighted. “Same friend as before?”
I gave him a pointed stare. “Friends’ cousin.”
“Dude. Come on. You’re like half in love with someone you won’t even name. You can’t expect me not to be curious.”
“I don’t know what it is yet,” I muttered. “It’s complicated.”
Dax sobered slightly. “Complicated how? Is she married?”
I almost spat my water out. I swallowed and explained, “She’s been through a lot, more than most. And I think I might be the first person she’s let see that in a long time.”
That finally quieted him.
He nodded, then bumped his shoulder into mine on his way to the couch.
“Look, man. I know you think you have to fix it. That’s your thing, right?
You see someone breaking, and you start looking for the cracks so you can patch them up before they fall apart completely.
But she’s not some busted piece of machinery.
She’s not yours to fix. You care about her?
Then don’t make it about making her better.
Just sit in it with her. Be the guy who stays when it gets heavy.
Let her be messy, let her be angry, let her be quiet.
She’s not broken, Reed, but she’s probably tired of pretending she’s okay.
You don’t have to fix the storm. Just be the place where she doesn’t have to weather it alone. ”
I stared at him.
“That was… surprisingly wise.”
“I am an old man, Reed. Been through some shit in my time. And to be fair, I went through it many years ago when I was back on the reservation,” he deadpanned, grabbing the remote.
I gave him an understanding nod as my thoughts drifted back to Wren. When I was at Lena and Harp’s place, she said she would text me. I really hoped she would.