Page 67 of Word to the Wise

Is it too fast?

Is it safe?

Can I trust this?

I’ve fallen head over heels for a man before, and I’m still reeling from how that turned out.

Except, thisfeelsdifferent.

When I fell in love with Carter, I was searching for something I was missing. I liked the idea of him and the life he provided because it was different from the motorcycle club that raised me. He made me someone else, and it was easy to escape into that girl. So I ignored the signs when they started to sour.

With Mason, it’s the opposite. He wants me to embrace myself. He doesn’t judge me for my scars, and he doesn’t shower me with affection just to get something out of it. Mason asks me to bloom on my own. He appreciates my flaws.

He doesn’t just encourage the things that make this simple and easy. He wants the raw, messy truth.

We’re embracing our true selves instead of trying to hide them.

Not that I know where it leaves us.

I’m a disaster, while Mason is wanted by so many girls. I’m not naïve enough to think he won’t get tired of me eventually. His wanting to feed into this undeniable attraction isn’t the same as him wanting to try and build this into something more—especially when I’m still not sure I’m ready.

So even if Lyla suspects what we’ve done, I keep it to myself. If I tell her, she might make something of it that I’m not ready to accept yet.

“Alright, whatever you need to say to yourself to process this, I understand.” Lyla reaches across thecounter and takes my hand, squeezing it. “But when you are ready to talk, just know I'm here.”

“I appreciate that more than you know.” I smile. “So, I'm guessing he's busy then.”

“Who?” She smiles, playing dumb. “The guy you refuse to talk about? Yes, he’s busy working on a chest piece. But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you dropping in.”

“It’s fine. I can wait.”

“I’m sure you can.” Her gaze drops to my warm cheeks. “Well, feel free to hang out for a bit then.”

Lyla holds up a small trash bag and starts making her way around the counter.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up a little bit so the group doesn’t have to worry about it. They have plenty on their minds right now.”

“I've got it.” I snatch the trash bag out of her hands. “You should be sitting down. You're pregnant. Let us do the work.”

“Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm incapable.”

“Still.” I pull the bag away when she tries to grab it from me. “Sit.”

Lyla rolls her eyes, but she doesn't argue, sinking back onto the stool instead. Luckily, a customer walks in and distracts her before she can give me crap about trying to help.

I understand how difficult it is to let others do things for you when I struggle with it as well. But she needs to take care of herself.

Making my way down the hallway, I glance inside Mason's room as I walk by. His back is to me, so he doesn’t notice me pause. His hair’s still drying from his shower, and it’s swept back. His broad shoulders flex with each movement as he drags the tattoo needle along his client's chest. He’s focused, and for some reason, seeing him doing what he loves to do is the sexiest thing I’ve laid eyes on.

Watching him, I’m positive one night will never be enough.

Continuing down the hallway, I spot the guys in each of their individual rooms working with their clients. Echo is finishing up, wrapping a fresh tattoo, and laughing at whatever her client said. And I love the sense of family that lives between these walls.

Something I’m only now getting familiar with.

I didn't spend much time at Twisted Roses when I was younger. Lyla came here all the time because she was not-so-secretly obsessed with my brother. But I was too busy reading and studying to hang out at the tattoo shop.

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