Page 93 of Fighting for You
He doesn’t look the least bit surprised. But then he says, “Did you mean it?”
I nod my head. “Yeah. I’ll just—I’ll find another outlet for my shit. But I want her out too. Find someone else. She can’t risk losing her license.”
He knows I’m right. It doesn’t even need a response. I think he only asked her out of desperation to begin with, but I won’t watch her throw her career away for it.
He nods his head as he says, “Might not matter anyway, I’m laying low for a while just in case the cops got suspicious. They couldn’t have seen anything, but a random trailer full of medical supplies in the middle of a field isn’t normal.”
Fuck. I hadn’t thought of The Pit being at risk. It’s a smart move though, waiting until things die down before starting fights back up again.
After a long silence, he says, “Were you serious about wanting to tattoo?”
His question catches me off guard and has my heart hammering, I’m not naive enough to grab onto the hope dangling in front of me though. I try my best to not let my emotions show on my face, keeping the stone composure Hayes always wears so well.
“I was—I mean, I am.”
“Well, turns out I had a snake in my midst.” My eyes widen at his words, not sure where he’s going with this. “Archer is that redheaded bitch’s brother. Something he neglected to tell me all the times I brought her up.”
Oh, shit. He’s pissed, but he seems irrationally calm about the revelation.
“He’ll be vacating his chair effective immediately. He said his loyalties lie with her.”
“Oh,” is all I say. Tattoo parlor politics aren’t exactly my forte, and I honestly can’t read the situation with the lack of expression Hayes is giving me.
“It’ll be a trial basis for you. I don’t even know if you can draw, let alone tattoo a real person.”
My heart is racing so fast, I’m scared it’ll wake Margot. I’m so shocked, I just stare at Hayes in disbelief.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind…” he tacks on after I’m silent for far too long.
“Shit. No. No, I haven’t changed my mind. I just—really? You’re going to give me a chance?” I ask, my voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word.
“A trial. But yeah. Don’t fuck it up.”
Fuckinghope. It’s too close now. I have the girl I love in my arms and the career I’ve dreamed of for years staring me down.
“I won’t,” I say, knowing full well I can’t promise it won’t happen.
He nods his head toward Margot. “Wake her up. Dinner will be ready in,” he checks his watch, “three minutes.” Then he stands and walks toward the kitchen, leaving me reeling at the conversation.
Without much prompting, Margot starts to stir. I lean down and press a kiss to her temple as her eyes flutter open. “Hey, baby.” The small smile gracing her lips at my words cracks my chest wide open. Soon enough reality must crash into her because the smile falls, and her eyes start to dull again.
I pull her up and spin her around so she’s facing me. “Hey,” I say. “We’re gonna be alright, okay? We’ll get through it together, one day at a time.” She nods at my words, but I know words don’t mean shit. “I love you, Freckles,” I whisper, still not sure how open I can be with Hayes within earshot.
She wipes at her face then leans in to place a kiss right behind my ear as she whispers back, “I love you too, Killer.”
Epilogue
Brooks
One Month Later
The last month has been a blur. We’ve been staying at Margot’s since the funeral. I let her think it’s because I want her to be as comfortable as possible during her mourning, and while partially true, I also want to surprise her with the kitchen remodel at my house.
Selling is no longer an option. Honestly, it probably hasn’t been since the moment she walked through the door and started sharing her dream renovations with me. I can no longer see anyone else living here, cooking in this kitchen, getting ready in the bathroom, sleeping in the room we’d fucked in for the first time. All I can see is her. And I hope I’m not disappointing my mom by staying. I know she wanted me to leave, to follow my dreams, but it turns out, they were right here all along.
Margot brightens every room she walks into. Her presence in this house brought it back to life. It’s no longer the house myparents lived in or the last house they slept in, it’s the house I see myself growing old with Margot in.
So I can’t sell it. What I can do is make it her dream home and—hopefully—be graced by one of her smiles that consistently brings me to my knees. I’d started on the kitchen in our time apart after Christmas, but I hadn’t gotten super far into the renovation. The last month I’ve been working on it nonstop. When I’m not at Mark of Mason apprenticing under Hayes or helping at RED, I’m here installing new cabinets or laying new flooring.
