I hold his gaze, and there’s something tender but strong in his eyes.
“All right, we’re done here,” Holly interrupts, and I realize she’s wiping at my shoulder. “Want to take a look?”
She holds out a mirror and I sit up to take it.
The butterfly in the reflection is beautiful. It’s a vibrant blue but softened with some shading, like the color was brushed on with watercolor instead of ink. The wings stretch just enough to follow the curve of my shoulder, delicate but intentional, each line clean and sure. The edges fade slightly toward the tips as if it’s about to lift off my skin.
Tiny veins thread through the wings in darker strokes, adding depth I hadn’t expected. Up close, it looks intricate. From a distance, it’s simple. Hopeful. Free.
The skin around it is flushed and a little swollen, a faint halo of pink that makes the color stand out even more. It feels warm and tender, not exactly out of pain, more like a lingering sting after a good cry.
“It’s . . . perfect,” I whisper, surprised by the thickness in mythroat. Not just because of how it looks, but because of how it feels to see something so soft and alive marked onto me. It feels like a quiet declaration of bravery.
Then I look at Milo and with a playful smile say, “Your turn.”
44
SADIE
I lightly tracethe butterfly on my shoulder, the pain now mostly gone and in its place, satisfaction. I have a tattoo. A real, can’t-erase-it tattoo.
I take a selfie of it in the mirror and send it to my sisters.
Sophie
NO WAY!
Emma
Is that real?!
Sophie
Welcome to the fun side.
Sadie
Yes, it’s real. Just got it.
Emma
Mom is going to flip.
Sophie
I have three. If Mom flips, she can flip out on me too.
Emma
You have THREE?
Sophie
Yes.
Emma
Where?
