Chapter Thirty-Eight

I didn't expect Gen to show uplike this, asking for a tattoo. She should be at work, and yet she's here, sitting on a tattooing chair with nothing but a flimsy piece of paper to hide her perfect tits. This looks like a grand gesture if I've ever seen one, trusting me to ink her skin forever.

No way I'll be a dick about it, though. So, as tempting as it is to mark her with "Property of Jacob Daniel Clarke", I'll do something she'll love, something she needs. This is the closure she's craved all this time.

The shitshow at her brother's really threw us off, didn't it? Even now, with the trust she's putting in me, an uncomfortable tension lingers between us.

"I saw my mother earlier," she explains. Her voice is uneven, either from the nerves, her emotions, or the slight pain of the needle.

"How was she doing? Still her charming self?"

"She tried to bullshit me into leaving you. Making it sound like she was looking out for me. I don't know how it happened, but I… snapped."

"You did?"

"Yes. I called her out on all her bullshit and the trauma she caused me. Even called her a self-centered bitch."

A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. "I would have loved to see that."

"The place has cameras, so that might be negotiable."

"You did it in public?" I wonder, impressed. Her cheeks get rosy with embarrassment.

"I did. People gave me side looks, but I didn't care. It felt so good, Jake. Liberating. Like I had a rock in my shoe for ten years and finally got rid of it."

I have a hand on her ribcage, and with my thumb, I give her a gentle caress.

"I'm proud of you, Gen. I'm sure she'll think about it twice next time she tries to use her tricks on you."

"She was very clear about what would happen if I chose you, so I won't see her again. Anyhow, I refuse to spend time with someone who loathes the man I love. There are too many things I'd rather do."

I pause for a second, turning off the wireless gun. "I don't expect you to cut all ties with your family for me. I refuse to see your parents again, but it's your choice if you want to."

"I don't," she insists, shaking her head. "I'm done with them. Family is important, but I'd much rather start over than stick with the one I have. Gerry is basically Switzerland, so I'll still have him. And I also have you, Hana, Eli, Mulli, Belzeebub… It's a solid support system."

"It is. Kill's a great bloke, too," I say before returning to the tattoo.

"I don't know him enough to form my own opinion, but I'm sure he is, yes."

The room is silent for a moment, with only the buzzing of the gun and the music.

As much as I hate what happened, I can't blame her for it. Not entirely, at least. There's always been two of her—the adventurous and free Gen that comes out when I'm around, and the Gen her parents forced her to become. As time went by, I saw less and less of the latter, but she lay dormant within her. I guess being with her parents the other night dragged that rigid and brainwashed Gen out of the deep confines of her mind.

It's not her fault—my aunt helped me understand that. A lifetime of indoctrination ought to fuck up someone's mind, and I can't expect her to break out of it in barely three months together. What matters is that she's here now, trying to mend things and fix us.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened to your sister?" I ask, focused on a delicate part of the tattoo. A few more minutes with this color, and I'll give it a wipe to move on to another ink.

She tenses, her eyes lost on the window to her right. When she speaks after gathering herself for a moment, her voice is unsteady but determined. "It was our seventeenth birthday. Vicky and I tried for weeks to get to celebrate with our friends. We were good with anything as long as we could have a little gathering. But our parents refused, over and over again. They argued seventeen wasn't an important number, but we'd have a party for eighteen. So, on the day of, all we had was a cupcake each from the cook and the promise of a trip we'd get to choose."

When she pauses, I use the break to ask, "Is everything still alright? Do you need a moment?"

She shakes her head. "No, I think I get what you meant when you said the pain could be grounding. It helps."

After a soft graze of my thumb on her ribs, I resume tattooing, and she continues her story. "Our parents were off for an evening in the city, and my boyfriend at the time called me. He had organized a bonfire with our friends and wanted to help us break out so we could attend. I was elated, even though we'd have to be back before our parents' return at midnight. I tried to get Vicky on board. I did everything I could to convince her to come, but she refused, arguing we'd get in trouble and have our rights revoked, as well as the birthday trip."

Gen's voice wavers with contained sobs as she continues. "I called her a coward. I told her she was pathetic for always trying so hard to please our parents and be the good twin. I was so angry at her for it, Jake. I wanted to celebrate with our friends like we'd tried this whole time, but it meant nothing if she couldn't be there."

I stop the tattooing and focus on her broken expression instead. "All she wanted was to stay home and watch The Parent Trap, like every year, but I left and snuck out through the beach."

"Is that the movie with the twins?"

"Yes, it was our favorite. But I decided my friends were cooler than a kids' movie, so I broke our tradition. The bonfire was nice, but it felt so empty without Vicky that I didn't even enjoy it. When it was time to leave, my boyfriend was too drunk to drive, and I couldn't find anyone willing to take me home. Midnight was coming, so I panicked and called my sister. I begged her to come and get me so I could be back in time and our parents would never know I misbehaved again and snuck out."

Gen observes as I place a needle on a new gun, taking a much-deserved break from her recounting of that night. "That's when she had the accident," I say once I'm done.

She nods, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I waited, and waited, and waited. But she wasn't there. Midnight came and went, and she didn't pick up when I called. I really thought… I thought she wasn't coming on purpose to teach me a lesson. We were close, but like any siblings, we had our petty moments. But, of course, Vicky immediately got in a car to get me.

"I still remember when the police pulled up at the bonfire. Everyone scattered around, and I knew. The moment I saw them, I knew this dreadful feeling in my gut wasn't just the fear of repercussions. I knew something terrible had happened. They took me home without telling me anything. When we arrived, Mother and Father were on the front porch in their fancy opera clothes, talking with more police officers and looking devastated. I clung to the hope that Vicky was just injured. But they broke it to me that she died in the car. I didn't know the specifics back then, but a few years later, Mother cruelly told me she died drowning in her own blood over several minutes."

This time, Gen's emotions become uncontainable, so I set everything down and rise from my stool. "Sweetheart, look at me," I softly demand, framing her face between my gloved hands. "It was an accident. You were a kid who went to a party. The rest was out of your hands."

"But what if—"

"No. It's useless to dwell on the past, red. It happened, and there's nothing you can ever do about it. Nothing. The best course of action now is to live a life your sister would be proud of."

"I thought I didn't deserve that."

"If the roles were reversed, what would you want for her? If you were the one getting her at that bonfire, the one who hit that deer. What would you want her to do?"

Gen thinks about it for several seconds, her watery blue eyes avoiding my gaze as she ponders. "I'd want her to move on. I'd want her to be with Penelope and be happy. I'd want her to keep me in her heart, always, but never let the memory of me hold her back."

"There you go, sweetheart. She wouldn't want what you've been forcing on yourself for a decade."

When her eyes meet mine again, I see the gratitude in them, as if she's waited her entire life to hear this. Because I can't resist the urge, I give her forehead a long and tender kiss. Then, I wipe away the tears from her cheeks, and after one last look at her reddened face, I sit back on the stool. Following a change of gloves and a wipe to clean the blood and ink from her skin, I pick up the gun again to resume.

"Vicky was destined to become a great person," she continues, "so I tried to become more like her and have a great career, exemplary life, immaculate image… I owed a perfect person to the world, so I had to become one."

"I find you perfect without those expectations you set for yourself," I point out, never tearing my eyes from my work.

"Which is what made me realize my mistake. Myself, the person I am deep down, has every right to exist—as much as Vicky had every right to live. By acting the way I did, I didn't replace her. She can never be replaced. I only stopped myself from existing. So now, I need to find out who I am outside of my parents' expectations."

Gen's hand comes to cup my cheek tenderly, so I look up from the tattoo to meet her eyes. "That person might as well be a stranger to me, but you've tugged and tugged at her, and now she's out with a desire to live and be heard. You've changed me in the deepest, most incredible way. No one else but you could have done it, wombat. No one else could have pushed me to find my true self the way you did."

"I wanted the real you. That's who I fell in love with, red. You're bold, daring, and not afraid to take what you want. Your strength is the sexiest thing about you, and getting to witness it and see you grow out of your shell has been an incredible experience."

"Well, maybe I got a little too bold," she says with a grimace. "I quit my job before heading here."

My eyebrows shoot up. "You did?"

"I was so done with that shit. My boss gave the promotion to Ralf Lowell, and I couldn't bear the idea of working under him."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You deserved that position."

"It doesn't matter. I'll do something more significant with my life than keep working for a tech conglomerate that only cares about money. I don't know what I want to do with myself or what I'll become, but I know, with absolute certainty, that I want to do it with you. I want your face to be the first I see every day, your voice to be the first I hear… I want your arms to become my home because I've never felt more like myself than when I am in them. You're the only thing I'm sure of, Jake, the only one that matters."

Her declaration halts for a brief moment, and her eyes fill with tears again. "I know I messed up, and I know I should have realized that sooner. But I promise, wombat, I promise I'll never take you for granted again. I'll never put you second. You're my everything, and it's something I'll never forget. So please, forgive me for what I did the other night. I should have run after you and left everyone else behind."

The smile tugging at the corners of my lips is unstoppable as I bend forward to set my face close to hers. "I forgave you before you even arrived, red. I sent you a text."

She frowns, confused. "When?"

"Half an hour before you barged in. I thought you were here about it, but it became clear you didn't read it. Did you block me or something?"

"No, I set my phone on DND before I met Vivienne, and then…"

Before I can even stop her, she rushes out of the chair, making the paper towel fall to the floor. With trembling hands, she pulls her phone out of her bag and unlocks the screen. I watch as she reads the long text I worked on yesterday and this morning. I needed time and space to gather my thoughts and lay them all out for her to see.

Also, when I woke up with a hangover on the 5th, the lack of messages from her triggered a plethora of doubts. Part of me thought it meant she was moving on, and we were over. That's why I only reached out earlier today when the pressure became unbearable.

Her eyes go left and right while her hand rests over her mouth, and I do my best to remember what I wrote.

I realize that you have a complicated relationship with your parents, something that affects who you are at your very core. I don't blame you for what happened because I know you've been conditioned to accept their behavior. And while I might never truly understand it because I've been robbed of a parental figure for too long, you would rather have them in your life than not.

And I'm here for you, even if it hurts me to watch them treat you the way they do. I'll stand by you, ready to build you up when they tear you down and to remind you of your worth when they make you doubt it.

You're an incredible person with an amazing heart, and nothing they say or do will ever change that. You're strong, fascinating, beautiful, and deserving of all the love and respect in the world. If I have to be the only person out there giving you that, then so be it.

I miss you and your freckles.

Your wombat.

A silent tear rolls down her cheek, and she wipes it away with a hurried gesture. "You really sent me this?" she wonders as if the proof right before her eyes isn't enough. I nod with a low chuckle. "And then you let me sit there in agony for forty-five minutes?!"

Her indignation brings another chuckle out of me. "I wanted to hear what you had to say."

"You're a dick, Jacob Clarke," she protests. I keep my eyes on her determined expression as she makes her way back to me. I'm shorter than her from the stool, so when she grabs my face, I'm looking up. "But you're my dick."

"I am."

Her mouth falls on mine, like heaven and bliss wrapped in a tender graze of her lips. It's sweet, soft, and more meaningful than any other kiss we've ever shared. This is a seal, an unbreakable promise.

When her warm tongue lasciviously touches the opened seam of my mouth, I put an end to it with a groan. "Let me finish your tattoo first, then I'll drag you upstairs and let you continue."

"Great idea."

She returns to her chair with haste, and I do another glove change before resuming. It takes thirty more minutes, during which she tells me more about her meeting with her mother earlier, as well as her work rival getting the job.

Once I'm done with the finishing touches, I use a fresh wipe to clean up the last of the ink and blood on her tender skin. Before I've put on the ointment, I tell her, "All done, red. You can go see it."

She doesn't look entirely confident as she gets out of the chair and walks up to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the corner of the room. I can't blame her. I just marked her skin for life, and she has no idea what I did. But as soon as she twists and lifts her arm to see the detailed drawing, her face lights up with what looks like pure joy.

"Oh my God, Jake," she whispers. I'm right behind her now, and we look at it together.

It's a small piece, barely longer than my thumb, but I worked hard on the finer details. The bright red ladybug is on a small cherry blossom branch—Victoria's favorite flower. The artwork is delicate and feminine, matching Gen's aura.

"Do you like it?" I ask, slipping a hand around her waist on the other side.

Her eyes are bright and teary as she looks up at me with excitement. "It's amazing. It's—it's her."

"She's forever with you now, even if you have days you don't think of her, even if you move on with your life and live it the way you want to. Victoria will always be a part of you, in your heart and right here," I explain, grazing the skin under the ladybug.

"It's perfect. It's so perfect."

Her elation pushes her to turn in my hold and bring my face down to kiss me. This time, things go a little further than before, and our tongues lick and invade, hungry and determined. It's hard to resist the temptation of her, especially when I can feel her erect nipples poking through the thick fabric of my shirt.

"I love you," she says into our kiss. "I love you so much, Jake."

"And I love all of you, red—down to the last freckle."

I'm so proud that her inner strength, the reason why I love her so much, finally grew enough for her to demand the things she's owed. Fuck her parents and that job. They don't deserve her. She's destined for so much more, and I'll be right there every step of the way, lifting her up and encouraging her.

"I need to take care of your tattoo first," I mumble into our kiss when her delicate hands reach between us to start working on the buttons of my shirt.

"Will it take long?"

"A couple of minutes. Just the ointment and a non-stick bandage."

"Let's do this. And after, maybe I can pay for it with my body?" she suggestively offers.

"I'm a very expensive tattoo artist, Miss Kensington."

"And I'm recently unemployed, Mr. Clarke, so I have all the time in the world to compensate you fairly. Also, I've been told I give amazing head."

I can barely stay in character as I stifle a laugh. "Who told you that?"

Her arm is thrown over my neck, keeping me close as if she refuses to let me go. It's not like I'd move even an inch away from her, anyway. "Some guy I met through a kinky dating app."

"He probably knows what he's talking about, then."

"Oh, he does. Best sex I've ever had. Best man I've ever met. And the best ladder I've ever climbed."

I'm still laughing when we kiss again. As we get lost in one another, I show her she's my best everything, too. My sexy redhead, my proper little Miss Kensington, my naughty Gen…

God, how I love this fucking woman.