Page 60 of Twisted Violet
“Could you maybe add stars to it? I’ve always been obsessed with the night sky.”
Sean gives me a nod. “We’ll make it yours.”
He works up a stencil and presses the outline to my skin.
When he peels the paper back, I stare at the reflection in the mirror he holds up.
The word that was once branded there is gone, buried beneath the most majestic wings covered in stars and crescent moons.
“This okay?” He asks.
I nod again, fighting a smile.
It’s better than okay,it’s perfect.
I lie down and the buzzing starts, only this time it’s not something being taken from me. It’s something being reclaimed.
Niko doesn’t speak. He just sits in the chair beside me,holding my hand and letting his thumb brush slow circles over my wrist.
The tattoo takes three hours to complete.
By the time Sean wipes down the last line and wraps my stomach in cling wrap, I feel wrung out and half-drunk on exhaustion.
We thank him for his time and he nods like it’s no big deal, already cleaning his station.
Niko leads me outside and opens his passenger door for me. I hop inside and he waits until I’m settled before closing the door and rounding the front.
I assume we’re heading home, but when he slides behind the wheel, he doesn’t drive towards the apartment.
Instead, he glances over. “One more place.”
There’s something about the way he says it that makes questioning him feel unnecessary, like I subconsciously know that whatever road he’s taking me down, I’ll be okay.
We drive in silence,the city lights blur through the windows, until the buildings thin and the air turns cooler.
He pulls off the road and coasts up a winding hill that crests into a flat clearing. And then I see it,the view.
All of San Francisco sprawled out below us like someone spilled a box of glitter across black velvet. Every window, every streetlamp, every car winding through the hills, become tiny flecks of gold againstthe night.
The sky above is just as dazzling. Wide and open. Stars scattered in thick constellations.
I don’t realize I stopped breathing until I let it out in one long exhale.
“It’s beautiful up here,” I whisper.
Niko doesn’t respond, he just shifts in his seat and reaches behind us into the cab, pulling out a couple of folded blankets and two pillows.
I arch a brow.
He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “For nights when I have to crash between jobs.”
He opens the truck bed and hops up, laying everything out with quick, practiced movements.
Then he reaches a hand down toward me and I take it.
He helps me up, settles me on the blanket, and then lies beside me, close but not pressing.
We both stare up at the sky and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel small beneath it.
