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Meeting her gaze in the mirror once more, I hold it steady and thread my fingers with hers. “I love it. Really.”

More than I’m willing to admit.

“Alright, next victim,” Cedar calls.

Just like that, my friend is back, snapping out of this odd moment we shared as she skips over to the chair. “Whatever Salem picks, I'm getting it on my tit!”

“Of course you are,” I laugh, quickly wiping away a stray tear. “But I'm not as mushy as you. Next time Christian sucks on it, don't blame me when he gets upset.”

Her eyes narrow into slits. “What did you pick?”

I grin and hand the flash sheet to Cedar after whispering my idea in her ear. “You'll see.”

“Fine,” Arya grumbles dramatically. “As long as it's not a hairy butt crack, I don't care.”

“Maybe next time.”

Cedar pulls on her gloves as she gives me a co-conspirator wink. “Left or right tit?”

“Dealer’s choice!”

As the needle buzzes to life, I settle back into a folding chair and gaze down at my new tattoo, heart still aching. The boys are no doubt looking for us. I'm definitely missing tons of photo ops, but… right now, I don't care.

Drumbeats from the stage barely reach my ears, somehow muffled inside this tent. Arya pulls out her phone and hums off-key while Cedar focuses on the outline, and it feels so safe. Like we’ve stepped out of time. All of the chaos, the grief, the guilt, none of it can get us here.

I trace a finger lightly over my tender flesh, realizing what Arya just gave me.

A mark of survival. A badge of honor.

For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I have to be anyone but me.

I don’t have to be the boss bitch, or the ex-girlfriend with a chip on her shoulder, or the “ungrateful” daughter holding a grudge.

Just Salem.

For once, I'm going to sit back, watch ink settle into skin, and let someone else control what happens next.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Logan

I don’t remember half of where we went, and I couldn’t name a single band we saw. For the most part, I trailed behind the guys like a ghost.

Salem and Arya weren’t answering their phones, so after the music ended, we had dinner and checked out the booths. I smiled when I was supposed to, ate a burger even though it tasted like ash, and took a video of Taylor losing a hula-hoop contest to Christian.

It's not until the crowd begins to thin, leaving glittery trash in their wake, that we head back toward the RV. Christian walks beside me while Tay and Huck hold hands ahead, happy and in love. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly jealous of how carefree they are, even though I know they had to fight to get there.

Is that how love is supposed to be? A bloody battle of good intentions, harsh words and misunderstanding? Is It ever easy? Maybe the kind of love you have to fight for isn’t the one I want in the end.

I don't want to slay dragons or vanquish evil like in all the stories; I just want my person. Someone to choose me from day one and never stop, because I know damn well I never would. That's it. No epic tale, no third-act breakup with a plot twist. Just your run-of-the-mill, boring, paying-taxes-til-we-die love story.

Maybe I’m asking too much.

“You okay, man?” Christian asks, startling me a bit. I whip my head toward him.

“Uh, yeah. I'm fine.”