Page 234 of Barinov

“Don’t yell at me, buddy,” she says, her voice muffled from my hand before nodding to Bella.

“She’s right,” Bella says. “You’re the sorry sucker that lost the bet.”

Ivy and Bella both burst out laughing.

“I love that one, babe,” Marisol calls out, not even glancing up from her magazine over on the couch next to Lex.

“Wait,” Lex says, yanking the magazine from her.

“Hey!” she yells at him.

He evades her slap, stands up, and heads over. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Don’t even think about it,” I grit out to the girls, feeling a rush of heat in my cheeks. “Ivy. This is Cade. Bella’s other boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cade says, offering a warm smile.

Ivy wiggles out of my grip. “Likewise, pretty boy,” she chirps, already turning to unzip her backpack perched on a barstool. “Now, let’s cut the chitchat shall we? I didn’t fly all this way up here for nothing. Arms out boys and girls, I’m here to cover up some garbage.”

She nods down at the C singed into my forearm.

“That’s why you’re here?” I mutter, holding back the sting in my eyes.

Bella steps in front of me and interlocks our fingers. “That’s why she’s here.”

“You first, Z,” Ivy says to me. “Bells, go hit the showers honey. I don’t need all of the sweat from your dance practice getting one of my designs infected.”

Bella rises on her toes and kisses me on the cheek before heading out. I watch her disappear up the stairs, her light steps fade into the distance as she reaches the top.

“Alright big guy, hop up on,” Ivy says, patting the leather.

She pulls a pair of black nitrile gloves onto her hands with a quick snap and grabs her purple marker. She stares down at my scar, her neon-green glasses sliding down her nose slightly.

“So I have an idea,” she says, pushing up her glasses. “But I’ll have to freehand it.”

“Just make it disappear, Ivy,” I say, fully surrendering my arm to her. “I trust you.”

“Consider it gone,” she says as she starts drawing out her design.

Ivy pulls out her machine and clicks it together. The high-pitched, electric buzz of the tattoo gun suddenly fills the quiet kitchen as the needle bites in.

Cade pulls up a chair next to us, watching the process with a quiet respect. Lex doesn’t move from his spot against the wall. Nobody in the room talks. We don’t need to. The buzzing of the machine does all the heavy lifting as it slowly rewrites the story on my skin.

By the time the water in the pipes upstairs stops running, Ivy is putting the final touches on the bold lettering. She wipes the excess ink and blood with a paper towel, spraying it down one last time before stepping back with a proud grin.

“Look at that. Fresh as hell.”

I look down at my forearm. The ugly, jagged C is completely gone and swallowed up by thick and protective vines of ivy. And there, cutting through the wreckage of the scar in bold lettering are the words Claire used to keep me alive: Remember who you are.

A heavy, shaky breath leaves my chest. The weight of the brand and the feeling of being marked like property evaporates entirely in a warm rush.

“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching up to swipe at a tear.

Just then, Bella’s clean cherry-vanilla scent follows her as she walks back down the stairs with damp hair. Her eyes instantly land on me.

“Show me,” she whispers, jogging over.

I lift my arm and present the fresh, glistening artwork to her.