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“Maybe I’ll give you a private tasting sometime,” I tell her with a wink. “I bet I can make you moan even louder than you did on the plane.”

A flush spreads over her face, and the tension in the car ticks up another notch immediately. I can feel Ares glaring a hole into the back of my head, but I don’t glance at him in the mirror. I do look at Callan, who is scowling down at his sketchbook for some reason.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best bomb to drop into this already uncomfortable ass car. Noted.

Brynn rallies faster than Ares and Callan do, glancing at them in the mirror and then giving me her attention again. “So um,” she starts. “How did you guys all meet?”

“Why do you care?” Ares cuts in before I can answer. “Trying to learn more about me so you can sabotage me again? I guess going home is stirring up old habits.”

The hint of a smile drops from Brynn’s face immediately and she whips her head around to glare at Ares. “I never sabotaged you,” she snaps. “And I wish you’d stop fucking saying that. I know you don’t believe me because apparently you never trusted me in the first place, but give it a rest.”

Ares shuts up, and that is a surprise. He looks like he wants to argue for all of a second or two, but then he withdraws, looking like he’s thinking hard about something.

Brynn faces forward again, her arms folded. “Callan and Ares met first,” I tell her, trying to break some of the tension. “Callan’s a tattoo artist and Ares wandered into his shop looking for a tattoo. They talked a bit and ended up becoming friends.”

“He messaged me a week later asking about aftercare,” Callan adds, and I see Brynn jump a little when he speaks suddenly. It might be the most he’s talked to her since this little road trip from hell started days ago. “We kept in touch a bit. I asked for pictures of his healed tattoo to use for my social media, and our friendship grew from there.”

“And then Callan introduced me to Ares, and the rest is history. We all just work as a unit.”

It looks like several things are aligning themselves in Brynn’s head about Callan, and it’s always funny to see people realize that he’s covered in tattoos and always drawing for a reason. You’d imagine him working security or being someone’s bodyguard, but instead he’s just this quiet artist. It takes some getting used to.

“Do you have any tattoos?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “No. Not yet, anyway. I’ve always thought about getting one, but I’ve never been able to decide on anything I wanted to have on me permanently. It feels like it needs to mean something, you know?”

“Sure,” I say. “But it could just mean that it was something you wanted and something you liked at the time. Not everything has to be loaded with sentiment.” I grin at her. “You should have Callan do it if you ever decide on what you want. He’s fucking amazing. Some of his tattoos he’s done on himself, which is wild.”

Brynn’s eyes flash up to the rearview mirror, and her cheeks are flushed again.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I don’t think I’m really brave enough to get a tattoo.”

“Baby, I bet you’re braver than you think,” I say, just to watch that flush deepen.

17

BRYNN

My stomach flips.

The way Tate says that hits me hard. It’s flirtatious because he kind of always is, but I can tell he’s serious too. He believes in me for some reason, which is surprising because we’ve only known each other for a few days. It’s been a very long few days, but still. There’s part of it that also seems like a challenge. Like he wants me to prove him right.

I can’t say it’s not something I’ve thought about before. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I could be braver. If I’ve held myself back in some ways. When it comes to some things, like moving away from my small home town and putting myself out there for my career, I think I’m pretty fearless. But when it comes to a lot of other things, I am just full of anxiety.

Marnie always says I’m a people pleaser and I hate it when people are mad at me. That’s true. Case in point, the way my family was able to bully me into coming back for this festival. Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with what people want and not really push back, and I know there are times when I definitely should be putting up some resistance.

I look down at my lap and push some hair behind my ear, trying to figure out how to respond. Finally I settle on, “Maybe I’ll think about it someday.”

It’s not really an answer, but it’s the best I’ve got right now.

Tate doesn’t push it, thank fuck. He just smoothly steers the conversation along. “I bet you and Callan know some of the same people,” he says. “He’s worked with a lot of musicians over the years. Right, Callan?”

Callan nods. “Yeah, plenty. I think they like that I don’t usually give a shit about them being famous.”

That surprises me into a smile. “That is always nice,” I say. “I can’t imagine being fawned over while I was letting someone stab me repeatedly with a needle.”

“No tattoos from Steph then?” Tate asks, talking about the woman who gave us a ride before.

“God no,” I groan.