His lips curve into a smirk as he glances at his watch. “Because it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, and you’re not a morning person.”

He’s got me there.

“Oh.”

My stomach tightens when he takes a step closer. The look in his eyes is downright feral. “And just so we’re clear, baby girl. I don’t give a fuck about your little boyfriend.”

And just like that, he reduced Stone to nothing more than a crumb on a counter.

I’m about to suggest that maybe it’s best we don’t talk about him, but he says, “Let me get dressed and I’ll take you out to breakfast before we go on our adventure.”

Not that he didn’t already, but it’s safe to say he has my undivided attention. “Adventure? What kind of adventure?”

Back to munching on his cereal again, he simply winks. “You’ll see.”

I stare at the building in confusion.

When Oakley said we were going on an adventure today, I had no idea he meant doing something so…permanent.

I shuffle my feet nervously because the idea of needles and ink going into my skin doesn’t sit well with me. “Do I have to get one, too?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. You’re just here for moral support.”

“Aw,” I tease. “You need me to hold your hand?”

His eyes are so haunted it hurts my heart. “Always.”

With that, he opens the door and we amble inside.

I watch as Oakley gives some big burly dude behind the counter a fist bump. “What up, man?”

“I’m good to go whenever you’re ready,” the guy tells him.

My curiosity grows as we all walk to a room in the back of the shop.

“What are you getting?”

That mysterious glint in his eye is back again. “You’ll see.”

Oakley takes a seat on a big black chair and I plop down on the one across from it.

The man starts setting up shop, and a moment later I hear the buzzing from the tattoo machine.

I blink in confusion when I realize the guy is tattooing Oakley’s fingers.

“You’re getting your fingers tattooed?”

I’m not trying to judge, but that’s one hell of a place to be inked.

He merely nods like it’s no big deal.

However, it is a big deal. This is something that will be on his skin for the rest of his life.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to,” he deadpans.

Feeling protective, I give the man doing his tattoo a warning glance. “You better not fuck up.”

The guy’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

Oakley laughs. “She’s my—”

“Bianca,” I interject. “I’m his Bianca, and your worst nightmare because if you fuck his tattoo up, I will shove my heel into your asshole.”

Oakley and the guy exchange a bemused glance before he goes back to tattooing him.

Walking around, I study the various pictures on the wall. There are so many different styles. Some bright and colorful, others dark and shaded.

As much as needles scare me, I’d be lying if I said the idea of getting a tattoo didn’t equally intrigue me.

It occurs to me that if I want one so bad…maybe I should go ahead and do it.

Take life by the balls and live a little.

“I want one.”

Oakley doesn’t look at all surprised by my declaration.

The man tattooing him laughs and says, “Jane up at the front desk has been doing some killer ink lately. If you really want one, I think she has an opening this morning.”

Before I can talk myself out of it, I go to the front desk to find Jane.

“It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” I say over my shoulder. “Is that weird?”

“Nope,” Jane assures me. “It’s just the fear of the unknown that trips up most people.” She pauses. “We’ll be done in about another minute. Came out awesome.”

My stare connects with Oakley’s from across the room.

His tattoo artist finished up a few minutes ago, but I haven’t been able to see it yet because I’ve been getting tattooed myself.

“All done,” she sings.

I’m starting to regret getting it on my shoulder blade now because I can’t see it.

Jane laughs when she sees my struggle. “Hold on. I’ll get you a mirror.”

A moment later she holds up a mirror behind me while I hold another one up in front of me.

Holy shit.

Tears prickle my eyes because it’s exactly what I wanted.

Jace, Cole, and Dylan all got butterfly tattoos for Liam a few years ago, and I wanted to get one myself.

Problem is, Liam’s life ended before he got a chance to transform into a butterfly.

Just like I am now…he was a caterpillar trapped inside a perpetual cocoon.

So that’s exactly what I got.

A purple and green caterpillar trapped inside a cocoon.

With the hope that maybe one day I’ll be free and turn into a butterfly.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until Oakley’s walking over and scooping me into his arms.

He doesn’t tell me it will be okay or offer me empty words about how he’s in a better place.

“We’ll never be butterflies,” I choke out as he rocks me.

“Caterpillars are cool, too,” he whispers against my hair. “You get to hang upside down and you have over a thousand muscles but no bones. That’s some badass shit.”

I can’t help but stare at him because how the hell does he even know that?

“I read Wikipedia when I get bored,” he states before I can ask.

A laugh flies out of me. “I don’t know how you do it.”

His expression turns serious. “Do what?”

I loop my arms around his neck and hug him tight. “Manage to make me feel better when no one else in the world can.”

He draws tiny circles up and down my back with his fingers. “I can say the same about you, baby girl.”

That’s when it occurs to me. “Show me your hands.”

Adjusting myself on his lap, I look down.

Oh, no.

This is bad. Real bad.

Seven of his fingers have huge block letters inked on them that spell out the phrase, ‘back in a’…followed by what looks like a pot plant on his pinky.

The heel of my hand finds my forehead and I audibly groan. “Oakley, that doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Sure it does,” he argues, pointing to each of his tattooed fingers. “Back in a…” He sticks up his pot plant pinky and waggles his eyebrows. “Haze.”

For a moment, I think about placating him and saying it’s awesome…but that would be a boldfaced lie.

“That’s dumb.” I get off his lap. “Let’s haul that guy back in here so he can fix this mess.”

“It’s perfect.” He stands. “I got the thing I love most in this world.”

A weary sigh escapes me, because of course he did. “Weed.”

His expression falters and he holds my gaze. “Just because I can’t have it anymore doesn’t mean I love it any less.”