I drew on a store of patience I didn’t know I had. “But it doesn’t have to be you,” I said. “There are others who can help her.”
“No.” She wiped her hand across her face. “Ivy has always been there for me when it counted. When Eli Shorthaven said my face was flat because I fell off the monkey bars too many times, it was Ivy who punched him in the face. When that asshole in tenth grade said he would never date a chink, Ivy was the one who stuffed a dead fish in his trunk.”
“That was me, actually,” I interjected, remembering Ivy raging about how some punk was mistreating her sister.
“Oh.” Winter looked confused for a moment. Then she barreled on. “Still, Ivy’s been there for me. I’m her only family. Don’t you see that?”
I didn’t—or at least not in the way Winter wanted me too.
“Who’s not the first wife now?” I challenged.
She stared at me, tears rolling down her face, but she still turned away. I wanted to follow her in, but I knew I'd only make things worse.
24
WINTER
"Finn's here," Tucker said. His words made my hand jerk and the tattoo gun went skittering across the skin making an ugly jagged black mark.
"Dammit," I cursed, wiping the mark ineffectually.
"I can tell him to leave." Tucker drew his finger over the faery wings I was drawing. This was part of Cecilia's design. Cecilia was a dancer at Riskie’s who’d had her career derailed by scarring. Jimmy had demoted her to waiting tables, and Cecilia claimed that if I could do an art piece on her body to disguise her scars Jimmy would put her back on the stage. She was also the mother of two really adorable toddlers.
I’d decided if Cecilia could strip and be a good mom, so could Ivy. I hadn’t informed Ivy of my conclusion yet. She and I were barely talking. More accurately, she was talking and I was ignoring her.
The design was a fairy garden with creeping vines and hidden winged creatures. On paper, it was gorgeous. How it would translate to her skin, I wasn’t sure. Tucker suggested I try out each small part and then move on to putting the components together. My graduation project would be Cecilia. She was thrilled because the tattoo would be free. Me? I felt ready to puke at the idea of putting the needle to someone's skin.
It was hard enough doing the pigskin.
"I really suck at this," I muttered, turning off the gun and ripping off my gloves.
"You've done it for four weeks," Tucker countered. "You're supposed to suck at this. When you first started drawing, were you any good?"
I laughed. "Yes, I was awesome. I started drawing with a pencil when I was three, and I was so good my mom enrolled me in art classes before I was even potty trained."
"You'll get better," he replied encouragingly. "I'm sure."
"But I don't know if I want to?"
He cocked his head. "What would you want to do?"
I hadn't thought about what I really wanted to do in a long while, not since I’d learned that a bachelor’s degree was out of the question because Ivy'd spent our money on drugs. "I don't know. Maybe be an elementary school art teacher like my mother. Something to do with art. I’d like to take classes to get better at graphic design so that I could take better and higher-paying projects."
"Why don't you do that?"
"Because it's expensive. I can't afford it, and I love it here."
"So get a scholarship or loans and work here doing commissions. Even if you moved on to something else, we'd still want you here."
"You would?" My mouth fell open.
One eyebrow arched high in disbelief as my surprise. "Yes, you'll still be part of the Atra family no matter where you go or what you do. You've been a big part in building this up." He waved his arm. "Hell, I'd probably still be stuck in that strip mall on the south side if not for your artwork."
I felt hot tears prick the back of my eyes, and I blinked to keep them from falling. "I wouldn't have ever made it through Ivy's incarceration if it hadn't been for you guys here."
Tucker crouched down in front of me and swiped his fingers across my eyes. The tears had leaked out despite my efforts. "And we will continue to be here for you. We love you, Winter. You're part of us. You may have lost your parents. And your sister's kind of a shithead, but this is your family now. You of all people should know that it isn't what's in here," he tapped the vein on the top of my hand, "that defines the family, but what's in here." He rubbed his hand over his heart.
I swiped my hand under my nose. The tears were streaming out of me, and my nose was getting snotty. "Do you still have that extra room available in your apartment?"