She leans back against the counter, arms crossing. “You know,” she says casually, “some people buy a ring.”
“Well, I’m not some people.”
“Why not a tattoo for her?” she says, her gaze dropping pointedly to my crotch. “Piercing that masterpiece feels like vandalism.”
“Fine,” I say evenly. “Let’s add her name too. My neck.”
Her eyes narrow. “I was kidding.”
“I’m not.”
She looks almost… unsettled. “Beads both ends?”
“Yes.”
“Vertical?”
“Yes.”
“Placement?” she asks, her voice pure sugar. “Base? Midline? Or are we going all the way? Putting the first rung right under the crown?”
I shake my head. “Top.”
Now her eyes snap back to mine. “Top of the shaft?”
“Yes.”
A slow breath leaves her nose. “That’s not for you,” she says.
She studies me another second, like she’s measuring exactly how far gone I am. “For her,” Viper mutters.
I don’t bother denying it.
Her mouth twitches then she turns sharply toward the back.
“Quentin!” she calls. “Full ladder for you.”
Then, louder?—
“Apparently he can’t stay soft if I’m the one doing it.”
Fifty-Six
THEN | SISK
When we reach my building, he waits while I dig my keys from my coat pocket. His eyes sweep the street.
“You live here alone?” he asks as the door clicks open. “Must be a really nice scholarship.”
“The top three get housing,” I say stiffly.
He carries me up the short staircase and inside, kicking the door shut behind us.
The apartment is small but bright, with clean white walls and new floors that don’t creak, a couch that doesn’t sag in the middle, and a kitchen that actually has enough counter space to cook on. The windows actually seal when you shut them—no draft curling under the frame. No peeling paint, no water stains spread across the ceiling, and the faucet runs clear on the first turn. It’s a life I thought I wanted.
I don’t keep my shoes by the bed anymore. I don’t check the lock three times before turning off the lights. At least—I try not to.
Jax takes it in without saying anything. His eyes move around the room then he sets me down carefully on the couch.
