First There Was You

Chapter 61: Greyson

August 21

Rosseau, Muskoka

"Your parents are going to freak out when they see this, Grey."

Liam's laughter rolls over for me as I grit my teeth in the tattoo parlor. Fuck, this was a horrible idea, but nothing I can do about it now, the fucking tattoo's halfway done. Ry's next though.

Liam is perched on the stool next to me, watching as some biker my cousin knows with a handlebar mustache named Chad tattoo my left pec.

He'd taken sick pleasure in shaving half my chest when Chad decided to clear the patch of skin. Chad took pity on me and shaved the rest, eliminating the crazy design Liam had mapped out originally, much to his own sick delight. Ry, seeing the options ahead of him, promptly opted to have Chad do his, standing firmly behind his 'no' to Liam.

"I don't give a shit about what my parents think. But remind me, why did I let you talk me into this?"

"Us, G. You let him talk us into doing this. What about my parents? I'm the golden boy." Ry emphasizes the word us dramatically, grimacing as he watches the needle puncture and prick my skin, splattering ink.

"I'm sure as fuck not doing this alone. I swear if you back out, I'll tattoo this on you myself, we'll see how good that looks."

Ry frowns at me, "I said I'd do it. I can still complain about it."

Liam only continues to grin at both of us. "You guys are the best. See, this way, you'll never forget I was here, I'll be with you."

Emotion chokes me at Liam's offhand comment. He's been dropping these bombs on me for the past day and a half like he's preparing my brain for the inevitable. I focus on rubbing my finger over the small scar on my palm, where Liam and I had once made a blood oath to be brothers. Ink or no ink, there's no chance in hell I'll ever forget him. He's in my blood.

"Seriously, Liam. First, don't say shit like that, we've still got you here, don't check out on us. Second, you know that's impossible. We could never forget you." Ry's voice is serious, and I can hear the emotion behind it, and for the first time in the past thirty minutes, I'm thankful I have the pain of the needle to distract me.

Glancing back down at my chest, I'm surprised to see how much ink is splattered on my chest, just under my shoulder, right over my heart. Fuck, how big is this thing going to be? I'd specified something small, no bigger than a couple of postage stamps. How much space can three jersey numbers and a hockey stick take?

"Almost done, man. You want any text to go with this?"

I grit my teeth as he hits a particularly sensitive area. "Yeah, in like tiny caps or whatever, nothing fancy, add the initials L.B., G.P., and R.W. somewhere inside the stick, maybe in the grip, in the tape. As close to the picture as you can get."

Liam was no artist, but we wanted to replicate his handwriting for the initials he's scrawled on the post-it note.

"Will do. Hang tough buddy, maybe another five."

"It's no problem." Grinding my teeth together, I focus on the pain to distract me from my grief. I'm more worried for when he stops, for when I don't have the distraction anymore.

As each minute ticks by, Ry looks more nervously at the needle. "It's not that bad, Ry. Don't stress."

When Chad wipes my skin clean, he grins at the result before letting Liam and Ry have a look before he covers it with a gauze bandage, taping it down. "Take this off in a couple hours, wash the area, antibacterial mild soap. You can leave it open during the day, bandage it back up at night. Try not to swim until the scabbing is gone. Ten days, two weeks. Cover it when you shower, tape and plastic wrap, just don't leave the plastic on. Clear? Call if you have questions. That goes for both of you."