“I have to tell you something. I lied to you before. About the tattoos,” I admit. She pulls back with a frown. “All of them represent you or us.” I lift my left arm and rub the one on my ribs. It was a pin-up version of Evie. She leans down to get a closer look. “Oh my god. That’s beautiful.” She starts mapping all the ones she can reach with her fingers. The stack of books on my right pec, the broken window on the left, the list goes on. Every tattoo I’ve ever picked was with her firmly in mind.
