Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(94)

She scoops my hands within hers, pink from the cold. “Things have changed, Jesse. I’m having a baby.”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten,” I mutter.

She pauses, frowning. “You’d take me, even if I’m carrying someone else’s child?”

“Yeah. I guess I would.” Am I crazy? Maybe. But the truth is, I’ll take her however I can have her.

“Jesse, it’s . . .” She hesitates and then clamps her lips shut, as if to stop herself from saying whatever she was going to say. Tears well in her eyes and she nods. “Okay.”

Relief and happiness slams into me, and that’s how I know this is the right decision.

Shutting her door, I climb into the passenger seat and take her hand.

And we begin making our plans.

THIRTY-FOUR

Water

now

The second she flicks on the high-frequency needle, I tense.

I remembered that sound, and the pain associated with it.

And then a thrill courses through me.

Because I remember that sound, and the pain associated with it.

“The outline is the worst part, I promise,” the artist—a young part-Asian woman named Ivy, her ears filled with silver rings—says as she begins tracing the transfer of Dakota’s design on my right shoulder.

I grit my teeth against the sting, trying not to move as the needle pierces my skin.

“I don’t get tattoos,” Amber mumbles, her gaze roaming the gallery on the wall. “It’s permanent. Why would you want to put something on your body now that you’ll just regret later?”

“Not everyone regrets their tattoos,” Ivy interjects, her own full sleeve of them on proud display.

“I won’t regret this, Amber. Besides, my scars are permanent too. At least I’m choosing something beautiful.”

“I guess . . .” Amber squints, leaning in. “Is that a man’s—”

“Yup.” Ivy doesn’t even need to glance back to know which tattoo Amber’s referring to.

Amber folds her arms over her chest and dips her head sideways to examine it more intently, her long brown hair hanging in a shiny curtain. “I can’t say I’ll ever be able to look at an elephant again without thinking of this.”

“You see a lot of elephants, do you?” I don’t miss the sarcasm in Ivy’s voice. And, thanks to the mirror on the wall, I also don’t miss the judgmental look she throws Amber’s way. It’s similar to the one Amber settled on her the second we stepped into Get Inked, the Bend tattoo shop that Dakota recommended.

“No, but I will when I go on an African safari next year,” Amber answers lightly. She’s being nice enough—she always is—but I sense the invisible barrier between the two of them. On the other side of that barrier is my warm, considerate friend. Not just anyone gets to hurdle it, though.

“Huh . . . No kidding.” Ivy’s tone changes quickly. “I’ve thought about doing that before.”

“It’s really expensive. The African safari alone is going to cost me close to ten grand.”

“Yeah?” I see the smirk curving over Ivy’s lips. “That’s not too bad.”

“It is when you add traveling through Europe and Asia, too.”

“I backpacked through Europe when I was nineteen.”

“Oh, I’m not backpacking.”

I feel like I’m watching a pissing contest but with girls. “I think you two should go together,” I suggest, more because I need a distraction from the pain in my shoulder than anything else.

“Don’t make me laugh when I’m inking you,” Ivy murmurs. I get nothing more than a high-browed glare from Amber.

A few minutes of silence pass. “So the almighty sheriff’s daughter doesn’t remember me, does she?” When Amber frowns, Ivy elaborates. “We went to the same high school. You were a year older than me.”

“No. Can’t say I do. Sorry.”

And that’s the end of that conversation, though I suspect much more could be said.

Its takes another thirty minutes to finish Dakota’s elaborate design. I let my thoughts drift to last night’s revelations, thanks to my dream. I’m still shaken up by it and, though Jesse says that whatever I did before doesn’t matter, I could tell by the frequent frowns and hard gazes this morning that he’s troubled by it.

For the first time since meeting Jesse, I’m relieved to get some time and space from him. Because if he decides he doesn’t want this thing between us to work . . . the very idea makes me break out in a panic.

And that tells me that I’m falling in love with him.

When the buzzing finally stops, Ivy holds up two mirrors, one to reflect the one from my back. I can’t help the grin from spreading. “It’s beautiful.”

The last time someone held up a mirror in front of me like this, that’s not a word I would have used. But Dakota’s creation—a symbol of resilience—doesn’t resemble Jane Doe.

This symbol represents all that I am, right here, sitting in this chair.

Today.

Alive, and living my life, regardless of whatever ugly mistakes I may have made in my past.

“Wow,” Amber mumbles, walking up closer. “It actually looks nice.”