Page 53 of Merrick

“This is Wilder,” he said, loud enough for Holden and Riggs to both hear, and then a little quieter, “my boyfriend.”

They’d talked about being committed to each other and they were definitely in a relationship, but it was the first time Merrick had used the word for Wilder, let alone in front of Wilder—or anyone else for that matter. He steeled himself for some commentary from Holden, but thankfully the old version of his personality took over. Holden raised a brow, then returned to work. The sound of his tattoo machine drowned out Merrick’s nerves just enough to suck him back into the moment.

“I take it you’ve never brought a boy home before?” Wilder teased.

“No, I’ve…” He huffed out a breath. “Let me go make this into a stencil. I’ll be right back.”

Merrick grabbed his notebook and jumped up from his station, heading to the small prep room in the back of the shop. He had just cut the stencil out and confirmed the size against hisown wrist when Riggs stepped into the room, leaning casually against the doorway like he wasn’t as big as a refrigerator.

“Boyfriend?” Riggs asked.

“Yeah,” he said, and then Merrick launched into a watered-down story of how they met—at a bar—and a summary of their relationship to date. Riggs watched him while he spoke, eyes sparkling the longer Merrick went on. Eventually, he stopped himself short of confessing Wilder was the reason Merrick had come into work asking Riggs if he knew any leads about galleries that might want to host a show.

“Happy is a good look on you,” Riggs said when he finished. “And on Holden.”

“And you,” Merrick added.

Riggs nodded and went back to work.

Merrick finished cleaning up his scraps and returned to his station. Wilder was in the chair still, phone in hand. He looked up when Wilder returned, a slow smile spreading across his face. He set his phone down on his thigh.

“What’s the verdict?” Wilder asked.

Merrick patted the covered armrest between his chair and Wilder’s, and Wilder obediently put the inside of his wrist on display.

“Do you want to see it first?”

“No.”

“What if I’m tattooing a jackalope eating a watermelon on you?” Merrick asked.

“Are you?”

He shook his head.

“Then we’re good,” Wilder said.

Merrick took Wilder at his word, applying the stencil exactly where he wanted it on the first try. Wilder watched him the whole time, eyes locked on Merrick’s face. He could feel the weight of Wilder’s curious stare every time he moved.

“Do you want to check it?”

“What did I tell you?”

Merrick picked up his tattoo machine. “Alright, then. Ready?”

“Very.”

Neither of them spoke after that, Merrick focused on the tattoo and Wilder focused on Merrick. He didn’t think Wilder even looked down at his work once, and that was some level of trust Merrick didn’t think possible.

It took him no time to get through the linework and then he did some soft black shading before rinsing the needle and going in with dark orange. He nitpicked the coloring more than he would have on a client he didn’t know, but for what this tattoo represented, it had to be perfect. After a quick pass with some white highlights, Merrick set down his machine and wiped Wilder’s wrist clean.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Wilder finally looked down and it was Merrick’s turn then to watch him, and he was glad he did. Seeing the emotions wash across Wilder’s face as seamlessly as Merrick had washed the color gradient of a perfect sunset across Wilder’s wrist was something he’d remember for the rest of his life.

“Merrick.”

“I was fighting with that sunset when I met you, and then once I knew you, it all made sense. It seemed like a fitting tattoo. I hope you like it.”