Page 143 of Spring Break Fling

“Maybe. I went to my dad’s place.”

“You did?”

“I needed to see him. To tell him it was the last time. That he’s on his own now. I told him that I’m done. Done saving him from himself.”

Hannah reached out and placed her hand gently on mine. Her touch was warm, grounding. “How did he take it?”

“He didn’t say much. But I think he understood. It’s over, Hannah. For real this time.”

There was a quiet moment as we both sat, absorbing the weight of it all. Then she smiled softly, squeezing my hand. “You did what you had to do. It’s not just for us—it’s for you too. You’re carving out your peace.”

“It was tough but necessary.”

“Maybe it’s the tough love he needed,” she said. “Maybe this will be the thing that makes him clean up his act.”

I laughed. “I doubt it. My dad has had sixty years to get his shit together. I don’t think he wants to change. But that’s no longer my problem. I can’t keep trying to fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed.”

Hannah nodded understandingly, her eyes filled with pride and sadness. “You’re right. And I’m proud of you for standing your ground, Nikko. Not everyone has the strength to do what you did today.”

We let the conversation fade.

I patted her knee. “I need to go to the shop and get some measurements. Marcus wants me to give him the list of furniture and equipment I’m going to need to get things going.”

“Want some company?” Hannah asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course,” I said.

We left together. The sun was high and bright in the sky, and the ride to the shop was short but refreshing, with the wind against our faces and the buzz of the city around us.

Hannah wandered around quietly. “It’s bigger than I thought,” she commented.

“Marcus has a vision,” I said with a laugh.

“You don’t?”

“I do, but I’m more of the guy that just wants to ink. He’s the one that knows how to do the setup and all that shit.”

Hannah smirked, her eyes taking in the empty space that would soon transform based on those visions. “You’ll do great,” she said.

I grinned back at her, feeling a surge of excitement about the future—the shop, our life together, all the possibilities that seemed so tangible now, with the weight of my father’s issues finally off my shoulders.

“We should start figuring out where everything is going to go,” I suggested, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket with some rough sketches I had drawn up.

She leaned over to look at it. Her hair brushed against my cheek as she pointed to one corner. “What do you think about setting up your station here? You’d get the best light during the day.”

“That’s a good call,” I agreed, marking the spot with an X. “And maybe we put the reception desk over there by the entrance?”

“Perfect.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said. “This is going to be possible because of you.”

“I’m not doing this, you are.”

“But I wouldn’t have had the strength or courage to do it if I hadn’t met you.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing you did,” she grinned.

EPILOGUE