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ChapterOne
Roman
Emerson Age 19
Roman Age 29
There is nothing quite like sitting around a fire after a long day at the shop with the guys. It’s a brisk spring evening here in Tennessee. When Forrest suggested a few beers at his place earlier today at the shop, we were all in. It’s warm enough by the fire in just a hoodie.
Forrest is one of my best friends. One of four, actually. We’re all from the same small town of Ashby, Tennessee. We’ve gone to school together since kindergarten, and I can’t ever remember a time when it wasn’t the five of us.
Our own little pack is what my mom used to say.
We were never overachievers in school. We got good enough grades to keep from failing and to keep our parents off our backs. We even attempted to form a band back in junior high, but we all quickly lost interest. Instead, we formed a plan. No college for us. We were going to open our own tattoo studio, make our own hours, work for ourselves, and say fuck you to anyone who didn’t agree.
By the time we were twenty-three, we’d made that a reality. All five of us lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment. We’d each had a minimum of two jobs, and we saved, working our asses to the bone to make our dream a reality. In addition to those two jobs, we all managed to snag an apprenticeship at surrounding tri-state tattoo studios, and the rest, as they say, is history.
“You know what I miss?” Lachlan asks.
“What’s that?” Maddox answers.
“Real tits.”
“What?” Legend asks, sputtering with laughter.
“How many of those have you had?” I ask him.
“You’re cut off,” Forrest chimes in.
“Come on, think about it. How long has it been since you’ve inked a nice set of real titties?” Lachlan asks.
“Is that something you keep track of?” Legend asks him.
“Yeah, I mean, I pay attention. The real ones are so much softer.” Lachlan lifts his hands in front of him and pretends to squeeze a pair of fictional tits.
“Can’t say that I miss them, but I prefer them,” I admit. They all agree with mumbled replies.
“Six years,” Maddox says. “We’ve inked a lot of tits since the day we opened our doors.”
“And to many more.” Legend raises his beer, and we all follow suit before taking long pulls.
The sound of the patio door sliding open draws our attention. We all turn to look, but it’s Forrest who calls out, “Hey, little sis,” to his sister, Emerson.
I shift in my seat and lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees. Emerson Huntley is a fucking knockout. She’s also ten years my junior and one of my very best friend’s little sister. However, that doesn’t mean that my body doesn’t react to seeing her.
I grew up with Emerson always being around. Forrest and Emerson’s parents are alcoholics and sometimes hit the harder stuff. Forrest, being ten years older, has always stepped up. He’s more of a parent to her than their actual parents.
When Emerson turned eighteen, she moved all of her things here, to his place, before she went off to college. She’s not far. Just about three and a half hours. She’s going to school in Lexington, Kentucky.
So, yeah, Emerson is always around. She was sixteen when I really started to take notice. She lost the braces. And those real tits Lachlan was just going on about? Hers made themselves known.
I immediately started to distance myself from her. The rest of the guys laugh and joke around with her, treating her like their pseudo-little sister. I tried like hell to do the same, but fuck those assholes must be blind as bats not to see the sexy-as-fuck woman she was becoming.
Somehow, in my quest to not perv on Forrest's little sister, I became the broody, grumpy asshole. Which is fine. Whatever I need to do to save face. I mean, sure, I hate being short with her. If she only knew the effect she had on me.
“I thought you were staying at Monroe’s?” Forrest asks her.
She steps closer to the fire and holds her hands up, rubbing them together for warmth. “I was going to, but decided I wanted to sleep in my own bed. I leave to go back to school the day after tomorrow,” she reminds him.
