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He gets up without warning and comes over to my section of the sofa. Strong arms wrap around me and haul me into his chest. All I can smell is Derek. He smells like the sun and a woodsy musk that must be his cologne. I take a moment to breathe him in, but he must mistake it for tears.
“It’s gonna be okay, Audrey. It’s going to be okay,” he keeps repeating.
I wanna ask him how, but I don’t want to be a jerk to him when he’s being sweet. We both know there’s probably nothing they can do for my dad. But nonetheless, the words bring me some comfort.
“We’re getting tattoos tomorrow. You get something for him, and I’ll get something for you,” he says.
“You’ll get something for me? Why?”
“Something in solidarity, to remind you of your strength. Something to remind me that I’m your sole corrupter,” he says with a chuckle. I can feel the vibrations in his chest when he laughs.
“The corruptor of me?” I ask him, trying to remember back to our childhood together. I don’t think he corrupted me. I was just one of the boys.
“Here I am, with you for only a few days, and I’ve got you getting a tattoo and eating pizza at this late hour.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. The gesture is so sweet. It makes me uncomfortable because I don’t like people making a fuss of performing grand gestures for me. But I also feel honored that he would want to have a permanent reminder of me on his body.
“I want to. It’ll be an homage to you and Aiden. You know, like some badass sea thing or something. An homage to all the times we’ve spent here on this beach. How much you both saved me over the years.”
I smile. “I think that’s really sweet.”
“When are they telling him?” he asks me.
“I’m not sure. Soon, I think. I hope. I told them they have two weeks to tell him, or I will.”
Derek gets up and heads back over to his side of the couch. He opens his mouth to say something and then snaps it shut. He repeats the action again and again. I can’t see his eyes, but I’m betting his brow is furrowed.
“Damn, you think some people are invincible, but they’re not.”
“No, they’re not,” I say, swallowing the lump that has settled in my throat. “He’s my father. I just assumed he would always be there. He’s so young. This shouldn’t be happening.”
The words come out a jumbled mess, but I say them anyway. The thoughts have been weighing on my mind a lot lately. Derek has been a distraction—ogling him has been taking my mind off it. The thought makes me smile.
“What?” he asks me. “What put such a big smile on your face?”
I chuckle. I can’t tell him the truth. “Just a memory of all of us being here like this.”
We finish our pizza picnic in a comfortable silence, then I head off to bed.
“Don’t forget tomorrow, he calls after me as I head down the hall. “I’m getting your ass inked.”
“Okay,” I reply, replaying his words over and over again in my head as I get ready for bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
We arrive early for our appointments. I would have rather shown up just in time, but Derek has this weird thing about being early everywhere he goes. He has since we were kids. I’m never late, but he takes early to a whole new level. Our appointments aren’t for another twenty-five minutes, but here we are anyway, in Inked Men and waiting on Derek’s buddy Rooster to be ready to tattoo us. I asked him what Rooster’s real name is and he just laughed at me.
The shop was about two hours away from the house. Back in the city just to get tattooed.
“How did you hear about this place?” I ask him.
“I’ve been coming here for years. Rooster has done all my ink. If I can’t get to him, I bring him to me.” He says it so naturally while I stand there gaping at him with my mouth open. “What?”
“I didn’t know tattoo artists did that,” I stammer.
“If you pay them enough, they will. And once you find someone who does a great job on your ink, you gotta stick with them.”
“What is it that you like so much about this one?”
