Page 65 of Commit

“Cool. Here we go.”

I hear the buzzing of the gun, and he begins. Though it hurts, there’s comfort in it. The pain grounds me, much like when I cut.

I flashback to my moment of weakness in the shower and the sweet relief as I ran the blade against my skin. The euphoria didn’t last as long as my shame, though.

Maybe tattooing would work as a replacement.

I keep my eyes on my finger as the ring takes shape. Even though I hate what it represents, I have to admit, it’s beautiful. The H is in fancy script, and the cherry blossoms are in vivid pink, wrapped around it.

“There you go. What do you think?”

“It’s really pretty,” I answer honestly.

“Excellent.” He grins, pulling off his gloves and swapping out his equipment with new stuff. “And you, Pete?”

“I want a B in the center.”

I look up at him with a frown.

“For Birdie. You’re Starling to everyone. But you’re my Birdie.”

“I can do that. But I’m gonna go out on a limb and say, you don’t want cherry blossoms, though?”

He shakes his head and looks at me. “You choose.”

I consider asking for bullets or a noose, but I figure that would be frowned upon.

I meet Hudson’s gaze and say, “Birds in flight. Some things just shouldn’t be caged.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes broken wings need time to heal.”

The tattoo artist looks between us, unsure of our exchange. He waits until he gets the okay from Hudson. “Birds it is. You want them all in black?”

“Yeah,” I reply before Hudson. Might as well match them to his heart.

As if hearing my thoughts, Hudson looks at me and chuckles while the tattoo artist gets to work.

I watch again as the tattoo takes shape. I hate the reason it’s there, but it’s done so well that the birds look like they could fly right off his finger.

“And that’s it. What do you think?”

“It’s perfect. Thanks, Jack.” Hudson hands him a wad of cash as Jack runs over the aftercare instructions. I only half-listen, knowing the basics thanks to Abbot having a couple despite being underage.

Abbot. Just thinking his name causes my stomach to cramp. There’s no hiding this from him. Even if there were, I doubt Hudson would let me. He seems determined to claim me for everyone to see. He doesn’t get it. He’s old enough not to give a shit what others think, forgetting that I still have to deal with it.

“Let’s get going. We have a flight to catch.”

I blink. Right, a flight. I figured out, thanks to Elvis, that we’re in Vegas. But how the hell did I sleep through a whole-ass plane ride?

They say their goodbyes, and we leave the shop.

He guides me to the car with his hand on the small of my back and opens the backdoor for me.

“Did he wait here all this time?”

“I’m paying him well.” Hudson climbs in beside me as I scoot over.

“Take us back to the airport, Joe.”