The Tattered Gloves
Page 22
“What are you crazy kids doing out here in the cold? Come on, let’s get inside! I have a booming business to get back to!” Addy announced, trailing behind us. She’d insisted on finishing her fancy cup of coffee in the car, reminding us that it was only once in a blue moon she got to enjoy the city life.
Looking around, I’d hardly consider Leesburg a city, but it was the closest location for what we had in mind today. And they had a Starbucks, so bonus.
“He’s trying to talk me out of it again,” I complained as Addy stepped forward and pulled the glass door open.
“Now, why would you do that?” she asked.
She turned back to give him a stern look. He shrank beneath its weight.
I snickered.
“It’s just, when I think seventeenth birthday present, I think of electronics or a trip to the mountains. Not a painful day in a sketchy tattoo parlor.”
“It’s not sketchy. This is the nicest place in the area. Look, they even have magazines and a coffee machine!” Addy said with delight before introducing herself to the manager.
“Oh, well, since they have a coffee machine,” Sam muttered.
We’d set up an appointment last week, and I’d been waiting in solid anticipation ever since. Sam? Not so much. He liked the idea and the meaning behind it, but seeing his eyes roam around the place like a trapped lion… I thought my nice country boy was a bit out of his element.
“So, this is the design?” the artist asked.
I’d never met a tattoo artist before. I guessed I’d always expected them to be kind of scary. But Evan, the guy who was about to permanently brand me, was nothing but nice.
“Yep,” I answered, looking over the perfect little sketch Addy had drawn out for me.
“And where do you want it?”
I took a deep breath. I’d been practicing this all week.
“Right here,” I said, as I slowly pulled my right glove off with one quick tug.
Just like a Band-Aid, I silently said to myself.
A little trick Addy had told me when I first let her in on my plans.
“I want to get a tattoo…here,” I said, pointing to my wrist… a place still hidden by my glove. “And I want to get it soon… for my birthday,” I added. “But I don’t know how… I mean, I just can’t. I thought, after the trial… after he was in prison, I’d be normal, but I—”
“When I was little,” she finally said, “I used to scrape my knees all the time. It used to drive my mother nuts.
“‘Nothing goes with scraped knees,’ she’d cry.
“Our nanny would use those Band-Aids, the plastic kind that were super sticky, and I’d keep them on until the glue gummed up all around them and turned black.
“And then she’d say, ‘Okay, time to see that perfect new skin.’
“But I’d refuse. I knew the scrapes were gone, but I just couldn’t bring myself to pull the nasty things off. I’d pick around the edges, delaying the inevitable, until finally, my nanny would just pull them off for me.
“You need to rip off the Band-Aid, Willow. If you’re ready, it will be easier than you think.”
And so, all week, I’d been slowly tugging at them, inch by inch, until finally, I’d managed to remove an entire glove.
She was right. It wasn’t as hard as I’d thought… because I was ready.
Addy and I had cried tears of joy as we both looked down at my poor, neglected hand.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Since then, I’d managed to pull both of them off for small amounts of time, long enough for Addy to trim my nails and even paint them with a pale shimmer.
But, for Sam, this was all a surprise.
He jumped up the minute the first glove had come off, no longer distracted by the bright designs scattered around us or the subtle sounds of the tattoo gun.
He only saw me.
“You did it,” he said in wonder.
“Did you have any doubt?”
His eyes found mine. “Never. I’ve never doubted you, Willow Fairchild. Not ever.”
“You ready?” Evan asked, escorting me back.
Addy decided to stay back, claiming she wanted to be surprised with the finished product, but honestly, I thought she was letting me have this moment with Sam.
No doubt I’d have many more with her down the road.
She was and would forever be more than just an aunt to me.
“Okay, take a seat right there. Your boyfriend can chill over here,” Evan instructed.
I took a seat on the big black leather chair in the middle of the small room that somewhat resembled a dentist chair while Sam took a seat on the tiny folding chair in the corner.
“You’ve got a pretty cool mom. Not many would let their daughter get tatted up for a birthday present.”
I smiled. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“Okay, you ready?”
I nodded as Sam leaned over and took my free hand, our fingers touching for the first time. It was enough of a distraction, I hardly noticed the needle.
Well, not at first.
Luckily, it didn’t last long. After about ten minutes of scrunching my face and breathing slowly, it was done.
“Take a look before I wrap you up,” Evan suggested.
I pulled my wrist up and stared.
There, looking back at me, was the one word I needed to remind myself of daily, especially when the darkness came flooding back or someone stepped too close.
Brave.
I was brave.
I was a survivor.
And, most of all, I was loved.
A Note to my Readers
Unlike Willow and Sam, who are fictional characters living in a fictional world, domestic violence, sexual assault, and rape are very real.
If you or someone you love is a victim of abuse or violence, please seek help. A whole world is out there, ready to stand side by side with you and fight.
NATIONAL SEXUAL ASSAULT HOTLINE
1-800-656-4673
OPEN 24 HOURS A DAY, EVERY DAY.
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FIRST AND FOREMOST, a huge thank you to my daughter Hannah. I usually reserve the number one spot for my husband, but this time, Hannah really deserves it.
This book wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her. She pushed me to write beyond my comfort zone, to see what else was out there besides contemporary romance, and I can’t thank her enough for believing in me and my talent.
So, thank you, Hannah. I hope this book is everything you wanted it to be. And, yes, free copies to all your friends. Promise.
I wouldn’t be able to do what I do on a daily basis if it weren’t for my family. My youngest daughter is my never-ending ball of energy and my constant cheerleader, and my husband is a rock and always there when I need him.
Thank you, guys, for making my dreams possible.
I’m blessed to have an amazing team behind me, constantly supporting me in everything I do — from day-to-day tasks to making sure my covers are perfect.
To Jill Sava — Thank you for making sure my life is in order. You are my rock and constant inspiration! <3
To Tara Gonzalez, my fantastic publicist — Thank you so much
for organizing every sale, release, and pretty much anything else I throw your way. Thank you.
Sarah Hansen — You’ve done it again. Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly create anything better, you go and outshine yourself. Thank you for this gorgeous cover and for making my book come to life!
Kelsey Keeton — Thank you once again for your photography skills. You constantly amaze me.
Jill Marsal, my agent — Thank you for all your expertise and kindness.
Jovana Shirley and Ami Waters — I seriously don’t know what I’d do if I had to find another editing team. Thank you so much for everything you do to perfect each and every book we do together. I love you both.
Book Junkies! — Thank you for being the raddest group of readers around. A special thanks to Melissa Wyatt, Melissa Wise, and Rhonda Atkinson for helping me come up with the name Page Turners! And Katy Nielsen for dreaming up the title for Addy’s diner! I can’t wait to see what you ladies dream up next!
And, lastly, I want to thank you… my readers. Thank you for taking a journey with me, for believing in a young girl with tattered red gloves and a dream to be loved.
Much love,
J.L.
J.L. BERG is the USA Today best-selling author of the Ready Series, the Walls Duet, and the Lost & Found Series. She is a California native living in the beautiful state of historic Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, she and her husband have two beautiful girls who drive them batty on a daily basis. When she’s not writing, you will find her cuddled up, watching a movie with her family, obsessing over Minions, or devouring anything chocolate!
J.L. Berg is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC.
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