“What thefuckis that?” Wyatt is staring at Lowesy’s hands.
My brow furrows, but Forker reacts faster. He storms forward, snatching Declan’s hand with a grin already blooming, and he tears the sleeve of his sweater backward.
Sure enough, there’s ink on his right wrist. A cursive tattoo.
“Shut the fuckup,” Wyatt says in quiet astonishment. “Does she know?”
Forker is full on beaming now. Like the tattoo is for him.
“What’s it say?” Saltzy asks, leaning forward to catch a glimpse.
“Lucky,” Forker answers, glancing at us. He twists Lowesy’s arm so that we can see, making him wince at the unnatural position before he smacks his hands off his body.
“You branded yourself with her name?” Saltzy asks, monotone, but somehow still disapproving.
“If there are days she can’t be here, she’ll still be here. On my arm,” he says, holding his chin up and serving us all with a glare, daring us to say something about it. Lowesy and his fucking superstitions. He needs his lucky Penny. “And yes, she knows. She smacked the back of my neck but proceeded to give me averynice reward, so I think she likes it.”
“A blowie?” Forker asks immediately.
“Jesus,” Caulfield mutters.
“He’s not going to answer that,” I grumble, but Forker’s still staring at the tattoo like it’s made of magic. “He’s got common decency, unlike some people.”
“Hey, I don’t kiss and tell either,” he says, and that’s a fucking lie.
The room bursts into laughter.
Fork doesn’t do it out of malice or disrespect. Fork does it because he gets too excited and speaks before he thinks. I know far too much about this man. About where his dick has been. If the roles were reversed, he would have just announced that Arden dropped to her knees after her anger subsided because it was a part of the story, and only realized that he probably shouldn’t be sharing those details with us once the damage was done.
“That’s a crazy decision,” Saltzy mutters, shaking his head.
Wy’s gaze snaps toward him. “Then it’s a good thing it’s not your body.”
Saltzy’s eyes flicker upward. A moment passes, and he gets the same lesson that we’ve all gotten at one point or another. Don’t fuck with their crew. Ever. Save your opinions for someone who isn’t a member of their little club.
Even boyfriends don’t get a pass.
“You’re right.” He agrees, and Wy reaches over, sliding his hand to the back of his neck. He gives him a little squeeze, which makes Cal relax a bit, a gentle smile hitting his mouth.
Wyatt’s eyes dart down to his lips.
I look away.
“If you don’t like that, you’re going to lose your shit about this,” Lowesy continues.
Cal’s going to have a fucking heart attack soon.
Forker is practically a dog begging for a treat now, tongue hanging out, bouncing on his feet.
Lowesy raises his other hand, the left one, and flashes us his palm. I have to lean forward and squint again.
Fork lets out a little noise of excitement and his face lights the fuck up, so I know it’s good.
On Lowesy’s wedding finger, there is a four leaf clover. For Penny.
“One wasn’t enough?” Wy asks.
“Thisone is so that I’ll always be wearing my wedding ring, even when I’m playing.”
