TJ:
The buzz of the tattoo machine was a familiar hum. A steady sound that drowned out the noise in his head. Noise that, lately, sounded a hell of a lot like Rory’s voice. Laughing. Moaning. Crying his name while she came around him and shattered the world in his arms.
He’d been trying not to think about her.
It wasn’t working.
The shop smelled like antiseptic and cedarwood. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, revealing the ink that mapped every mistake and memory he’d never quite outrun.
“Yo, TJ,” one of the apprentices called. “Your 3PM just canceled.”
“Cool,” he muttered, not looking up. “More time for me to regret life choices.”
The other guy snorted, but left him alone.
TJ leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He hadn't shaved. Hadn’t slept much either. Mama n
