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M y skin itches as restlessness settles into my bones.

Attending college seemed like the right step.

The next step.

If that’s the case, why do I feel like I don’t belong here?

Classes are done for the day, finally, and after a quick stop at the dorm to drop off my books, I head to my favorite place.

Stepping inside Ink-U, serenity washes over me as the buzz of tattoo guns fills the air.

“There she is,” Benson calls out, causing his client to chuckle.

I have been keeping a secret from everyone. Although I am attending classes, I have also been honing my skills through an apprenticeship here.

My business degree, combined with the marketing minor I am pursuing, will help me achieve success when I open my shop.

Benson, the owner of Ink-U, has been a great help.

A bonus to all of this is that Benson is a shifter.

He has been emphasizing the technique for tattooing paranormals.

Since they heal so fast, there is a specific way to do it, so it sticks.

I’ve already completed all of the piercing requirements and have the necessary permits and licenses.

Now it’s just a matter of toning my technique.

Drawing has always been a hobby of mine, one that I excel at.

“Get your station set up,” Benson calls out over the sound of his gun.

Once a week, Benson draws an intricate design and presents it to me with practice skin and the parameters.

Sometimes, it’s a portrait, wildlife, cartoon, fantasy, or possibly a combination of multiple styles.

My tests—as he refers to them—range from time constraints to a customer chickening out partway through the sitting.

All of the scenarios are real-life examples of what can happen during an appointment.

“Are you ready, kid?” Benson asks, stepping into my assigned area.

Before I can answer him, my phone rings. Holding a finger up in the air, I rush past Benson, pushing him out of the way. I’m not ready to answer questions about this, so the call needs to be taken outside these four walls.

“Hey, sis!” I say a little breathy, connecting the video call. It takes a moment to realize both my dad and Kali, Dayton’s best friend, are also on the call.

“Hey, everyone,” Dayton says, as her chin wobbles. My brow furrows with concern. Dayton is the more emotional one of the two of us. I want to know who’s ass I have to kick for upsetting my sister.

“What’s wrong?” I blurt in anger.

The question hangs in the air, causing the worry and concern for Dayton to ratchet up.

“I’m pregnant!” Dayton yells, bouncing up and down, her excitement palpable.

Kali reacts first, squealing like a teenage girl at a Swiftie concert.

“I’m gonna be a grandpa?” my dad asks reverently.

“Yep,” Dayton confirms.

“Do you know the due date yet?” I ask, mentally calculating where I will be in the spring semester.

“According to Octavia, because of the shifter side, late January,” Dayton answers, biting her lip nervously.

“What aren’t you saying?” I ask sternly, knowing my sister’s tells.

“I’m having quadruplets,” Dayton answers after a long pause.

The three of us are speechless.

“Kid, are you coming to do this or what?” Benson barks from the doorway.

“Shit!” I exclaim. “Yeah, be there in a minute.”

“Who’s that?” Dad asks.

“My boss. I gotta go. Congratulations, Dayton. I’m happy for you and Kyle. I’ll call you this weekend,” I rush out, needing to get back in the shop.

Ending the call, I wander back inside with Benson hot on my heels.

“Everything okay?” he asks as I settle in, ready to start work.

“Yeah,” I answer before launching into the news of my sister’s pregnancy.

When Benson started working on my ink, I told him how my dad, Kali, and I had set my sister up with a paranormal mate.

That’s how I found out Benson is a shifter.

He didn’t volunteer what kind, and I knew better than to ask outright.

Benson lets out a long, low whistle.

“She won’t make it to term,” he says cryptically, causing my anxiety to spike.

Before he can elaborate, Benson gets called away, leaving me alone with my assignment and concern for Dayton.

My timeline just changed.