“This is real?” she asked.
She kept her gaze on our hands instead of my face.
I lifted her hand and kissed the ink-smudged side of her finger. “It’s real.”
Jade let out a breath and leaned into my shoulder.
I held her there in the morning light, our fingers locked together, my keys on the dresser and her boots beside my bed.
This time, neither of us reached for the door.
Epilogue
THE FRONT WINDOW OFCrown Jewel Tattoo needed one more strand of lights, which put me on a step stool after dark with a staple gun in one hand and a strong suspicion that business ownership was mostly paperwork and upper-body endurance.
Fresh paint warmed under the shop lights. Disinfectant cut clean through the evergreen garland Crystal had looped over the reception desk, and the new tattoo chair sat under my station light like it was waiting for its first bad decision. Outside, snow drifted past the glass in soft white flakes, catching in the glow of our sign.
CROWN JEWEL TATTOO.
The shop was mine.
It was ours too, if Crystal was in the mood to let me say that without correcting my bookkeeping language.
"Move that left side down half an inch," Crystal said from behind the counter.
I turned my head. "You're saying that like half an inch is a real amount."
"Half an inch matters when I'm looking at it."
She sat with her pale hair clipped back, cream sweater sleeves pushed to her elbows, and my entire opening week spread over the counter in neat stacks: appointment forms,aftercare cards, a deposit ledger, a permit folder, and a checklist long enough to qualify as light punishment.
Five months ago, my twin had been hiding in a rental cabin with a storage-locker key under her shirt and a warrant with her name on it.
Now the charges were gone. Frank Dugan and Ike Pendleton were locked up where they could enjoy each other's company for a long damn time. Crystal was telling me my Christmas lights were crooked.
Life was weird. I was trying not to complain.
I shifted the strand lower.
"Was that better?"
"That was better," she said.
I stapled the strand in place and stepped down before the stool could become the first casualty of my grand opening.
Crystal glanced over the top of her laptop. "Please don't bleed on anything sterile before we open."
"I've got excellent balance."
"You fell off a curb yesterday because Dex waved from across the street."
"That curb attacked me during a private moment."
Her smile showed up small and real before she went back to the spreadsheet. The soft click of her keyboard joined the low hum of the fixture and the muffled hush of snow against the window. My design sheets lined the wall behind me: flowers and anchors, mountain silhouettes, knives with roses, crowns tucked into vines, little jewels cut in black linework and dark shadow. Each one looked sharp inside a black frame.
I ran my thumb along the edge of one black frame and caught a faint streak of ink on my skin from where I'd touched a fresh test print. I rubbed the streak into my thumb and smiled before I could stop it.
The door opened, and cold air swept in with Dex.
