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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Gray

Emory met me and my brothers at Ink Anarchy—next door to the pool hall—on Wednesday night.

The moment we stepped inside, Emory looked like a bright-eyed kid who’d just walked into his first candy store.

Emory gazed around, drinking in the framed tattoo art on the walls—some the classic skulls and roses, others intricate designs, realistic images, and tribal patterns.

The shop was bright and clean, with a coppery concrete floor and four workstations with black chairs that could fold down into tables as needed.

On the far end of the room, there was a wiry ginger guy applying a cellophane bandage to a section of a dude’s back, covering the scales and wings of a partially inked dragon. The piece was big enough it’d take weeks, if not months, to finish.

Pretty badass, but more than I’d want to take on.

Angel emerged from a back hall to greet us, her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun. “Hey, boys. You ready to get this done?”

“Been waiting years for him to get this done,” Axel said, clapping me on the shoulder.

The old guilt tried to rise. Axel’s wide grin took the edge off, though, and Emory’s hand tucked in mine soothed the old ache. I was here now. I was here for good.

“Hopefully, he won’t cry like Bailey did,” Holden said with a smirk.

“Hey, I didn’t cry!” Bailey protested. “My eyes watered. There’s a difference!”

Angel laughed and waved me toward her workstation. “Well, let’s find out if Gray can handle my heat.” She winked, and then her gaze dropped to my hand linked with Emory’s. “But what’s this? You’ve got a boyfriend now?”

Emory’s hand squeezed mine a little, as if he might be nervous. But his family knew the truth, and we’d agreed we wouldn’t hide anymore. “Yep. Emory is a great artist too.”

“Really?” Angel brightened. “What kind of art?”

“Oh, just sketching and painting mostly,” Emory said. “I really love your style.” He gestured up to the wall. “That’s more sophisticated than what I could do.”

Most of Angel’s work, framed on the walls around her workstation, was black-and-gray, but the designs used intricate shading and light for a beautiful effect.

“Don’t let Emory sell himself short,” I said. “I saw some tattoo designs he did for fun. He’s got a vibe kinda like your dragon inker over there.”

“Oh, Fox?” She nodded. “He does more of a neotraditional design, but he’s so good at it.”

I sat down in the chair, and Angel slid out a table for me to rest my arm on, then took a seat on a rolling stool and pulled on latex gloves.

Axel had grabbed a book of tat designs from the lobby and was flipping through it. “I am feeling the need to book another session. Just being here has my skin all itchy.”

Angel smirked. “Careful there, Ax. Ink is addictive.”

He snorted. “And you’re my dealer of choice.”

“It’s a win-win, then.”

Holden crossed his arms and leaned against the partial wall between Angel’s station and the next. Bailey wandered the shop.

Emory stood close to Axel, looking at the book of designs. “These are so cool. This must be a dream job, huh?”

“It really is.” She wiped my inner wrist with rubbing alcohol. “Not something I ever planned to do, but I love it.”

“Weren’t you going into teaching?” Holden asked.

“Yep. I worked at the high school a few years, but they cut art classes. Budget shit, you know? I didn’t know what the hell to do, but then I got a tattoo, and I caught the bug.”

She glanced over at Emory, who was raptly studying the book of tattoo designs.

“I recognize the signs. You’re going to be back.”

Emory looked startled. “What?”

“Yep. Mark my words. Either for a tattoo or to learn more about how to ink them. You’ve got that look in your eye.”

I smirked. “How do you think I got him to look twice at me?” I said, gesturing to the ink on my arms.

“Shut up,” Emory said with a laugh. “I like your ink, but you’d be hot without it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“ Less hot, maybe,” he admitted, and everyone laughed.

Angel transferred a stencil of the design to my skin using thermal paper and a liquid solution. Then she broke out the tattoo gun.

“This is going to be pretty simple, so it won’t take long.” The gun buzzed to life, and Emory came over for a closer look.

She placed the gun to my skin, and the familiar stinging of the needle danced along my wrist. It was like hundreds of little pinpricks, but nothing I hadn’t experienced many times before.

“Sorry if this is a waste of your talent,” I said as the simple infinity symbol took shape. “You could probably do this in your sleep.”

“It’s never a waste,” she said with a smile. “I think what you guys are doing is so cool. Tattooing can be fun, and it can be rebellious, but I like it most when it symbolizes something important, like this does.”

I glanced up at my brothers, who’d all moved a little closer to watch the magic. For so long, I’d thought I’d lost them forever. For so long, I’d regretted my choices.

But all my choices had brought me here—to this moment with them. I appreciated it so much more because it hadn’t come easily.

Emory placed a hand on my opposite shoulder, squeezing gently. I never thought I’d have so much love in my life. I was so damn lucky to have a family—the one I’d lost and the one I’d found—standing by my side.

“Does it hurt?” Emory asked.

I smiled, my chest tight. “Only in the best way.”

Axel snorted. “He’s a pain slut, then. I didn’t need to know that.”

“As if you don’t get off on those endorphins,” Holden said.

My eyes shot to Holden. “How did you do with the tattoo? I’m surprised you can tolerate them.”

The Bro Code tat was not the only one Holden had. There was ink on his chest and along one forearm.

He shrugged. “It’s the one exception. I can’t really explain it, but I can handle that deep, tingling pressure of a tattoo gun so much better than skin-on-skin contact.” He shrugged. “My artist is pretty good about warning me every time he’s going to touch me, too, so I can prepare. It’s not easy or fun exactly, but it’s worth it because tattoo art is forever.”

“That it is,” Angel murmured. “Who does most of your work?”

“Cyrus.”

“Ah yeah.” She nodded. “He’s got such a mellow, calm vibe too.”

“He does,” Holden agreed. “There’s like waves of serenity pouring off the guy.”

She chuckled. “He’s a big believer in meditation. Have you tried it?”

Holden nodded. “I’ve tried a lot of things.”

She shot him a sympathetic smile. “You’re very open about it all.”

“Kind of hard not to be. Otherwise, people would be unknowingly sending me into panic attacks.”

“Fair.”

“I just found my next tattoo,” Axel declared, holding out the book to show us. There were several cards fanned out, held by a skeletal hand, and in the center of the card in front, a skull instead of a heart or spade.

Angel lifted the tattoo gun to reposition and cut a glance toward the image Axel held out. “You still want it over the ribs?”

“It’s the best spot, I think.”

“Won’t that hurt more?” Emory asked.

“A hell of a lot more,” Angel said.

“Worth it,” Axel said.

Bailey shook his head. “You’re all weird. Pain is bad. ”

“Says the guy who cried over his ten-minute tattoo.”

Everyone laughed except Emory. He smiled at my baby brother.

“Hey, I’ve got no tattoos at all. I’d probably be a total wimp about it.”

“Nah, you’re tougher than you think,” I said.

I gave him a meaningful look, and he blushed brightly. Yeah, my sweet, innocent Emory had demanded rough sex just last night.

“Harder,” he’d kept insisting until I was ramming into his body with all my force, holding his throat in one hand to keep him where I wanted him. The headboard had banged into the wall, and Emory had given a feral scream as he came.

It was intense—but so was the slow, sweet sex we’d had a few times since exchanging I love yous. Emory had topped and bottomed both—he was still discovering where his boundaries lay—and I was enjoying every minute of the ride.

“Gross,” Bailey said now, screwing up his face. “Didn’t need to know that.”

“Like we couldn’t figure it out after listening to them go at it the past few weeks?” Holden said.

“Shut it,” I said as Emory’s blush darkened. “We stayed at his place last night, so quit your bitching.”

“We appreciate it. Feel free to keep doing that.”

I clapped my free hand to my heart. “Ouch. I thought you wanted me in your brotherly nest of love.”

“Okay, that sounds disturbing,” Bailey muttered.

“Or hot,” Angel said, waggling her eyebrows.

“More like incestuous,” Axel said.

“Like I said,” she teased. “ Hot .” She lifted the gun, leaving my wrist a little numb from all the vibrations. “Okay, you’re done. Let me get you cleaned up.”

Angel bandaged me and went through the after-care instructions. I tuned her out. This wasn’t my first rodeo.

“Okay, I’ll go run the bill. Emory, let me introduce you to Fox before he leaves. He’s looking for an apprentice, and he’s a great teacher.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, but I have a job.”

She smiled knowingly and shrugged. “Well, you never know where life will take you. Besides, who says you can’t do it part time for fun? Just come up front if you want to meet him.”

She walked off, and I nudged Emory’s hip. “You should check it out. You’re all about chasing your joy now, right?”

“Right,” he said slowly. “Well, I guess it can’t hurt to learn more. I just, I help people at my job. If I left it…”

“You’re supposed to be making choices that make you happy, golden boy. If it’s staying at the bank, definitely do that. If it’s something else, well, I think you owe it to yourself to consider it. That’s all.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders as if marching into battle, and headed for the front desk.

It still took so much work for him to consider his desires over his obligations. I didn’t doubt Emory would always be a selfless person who wanted to make others happy, but hopefully, he’d at least put himself into the equation now.

It would take time for him to figure out what he really wanted, and that was okay. I’d be there to support him, no matter what path he took.

My brothers crowded in as I stood up to look at the simple black design of an infinity symbol with the words Bro and Code in each loop.

Axel lined up his arm next to mine. Bailey held his in as well so we could see the tattoos side by side.

“Such a simple little design,” Holden murmured, gazing at our wrists.

“But a complicated road that led us here,” I said.

Not just the years I’d lost with my brothers or the time I’d needed to earn their trust again, but every step of our lives leading up to this code between us. The loss, abandonment, neglect, and abuse we’d each endured. The love and loyalty we’d found together, thanks to my foster mom’s tireless efforts to help us heal.

The challenges we still faced, the trauma we’d always carry—but most of all, the new family we’d forged. One we’d fight for again and again.

“We got here,” Holden said. “All of us.”

We finally fucking did.