Whiskey Sharp: Jagged. Lauren Dane

two are seeing someone about it?”

      “We’re meeting with an attorney tomorrow,” Rachel said. “We’ll file for a protection order against Mom and Dad both. Keep them away from Ink Sisters and Whiskey Sharp as well as the house. He needs to have it underlined that we don’t want anything to do with him and that we won’t tolerate any more of this threatening crap.”

      No one was going to cage her ever again.

      * * *

      WHICH IS WHAT she said to her attorney as she and Maybe sat in front of her the following day.

      Sarah, their lawyer, nodded. “First let’s talk about the conservatorship. His chances are pretty dismal. You’re gainfully employed. You’re physically healthy and working on your mental health. We’ll get your therapists here and back east to file evaluations. I’ll do it up front so we can be ready when the requests for them come.

      “At this point, given your stability, there’s no reason to assume you can’t handle the day-to-day decisions in your life. I know it’s easier said than done, but I want you to try and remain calm about this. I can handle most of it without either of you needing to be there. That’ll save a lot of time and he can’t use the system to force you to see him. Sometimes that’s enough. Once that avenue is closed, a lot of jerkoffs will lose interest.”

      “I hate that he’s just doing this to try to control me and harass Maybe,” Rachel said.

      “It’s not an unusual thing for an abuser to do. It’s a classic move.” Their attorney shrugged. “I don’t much like bullies so I’m going to have a delightful time thwarting him.” She put aside one folder and opened another. “As for the protection order, I don’t think you’ve got the grounds with your mother so I’d suggest holding off. With your father, we might be able to get some leverage with feeling threatened. He’s big, he’s come to your home uninvited. He’s threatening your independence. It’s enough we can at least get a temporary order. Some guys back off and don’t contest the order after the temporary expires after two weeks.”

      “He’ll contest it. He’s very into authority. The court is an authority. If the court tells him not to do something he feels entitled to do, he’ll contest it because he won’t want a judge to feel he’s an abusive guy. And he’ll contest it because he won’t see himself as harassing anyone, merely being a good parent,” Rachel said.

      Their attorney tapped her pen against the pad on her desk. “That could very well be. I just wanted you to go into the process understanding it and what your chances might be.”

      They moved to outlining some next steps and an hour and a half later, she felt a little bit better about her future and her ability to protect it. She’d taken some of her lost control back, steadied herself with it and now she’d keep enjoying her life because she’d earned every day.

      * * *

      HE TRIED NOT to rush, but it was hard because now that he’d allowed himself to openly want her, it was like he couldn’t hold it back.

      “Slow it down, dude,” Evie bitched at him. “You go showing up over there an hour early and she’s going to think you’re a creeper.”

      “I have things to do before I go pick her up. It’s rush hour anyway and I don’t want to be late or have to hurry.”

      Generally, he tended to be really mellow about most things. It took a lot to get him riled up. But he hated to be late. Probably because his family was always so big and had so many moving parts that they tended to have been late for everything.

      But his mother had volunteered him—without even asking him first—to go with Evie down to Pike Place Market to pick up fruit for the bakery. And naturally his sister had wanted to stop at Beecher’s for cheese and then she’d hauled him across the street, pointing at the florist’s shop. “Give her flowers.”

      “I was going to,” he muttered. But this place did have really nice bouquets, especially for the season.

      “Where are you taking her?” she asked.

      “Le Pichet,” he said, grabbing a huge bouquet full of color. The pick-me-up, especially as it had been a dark, wet and cold winter, would be a good thing. And it enabled him to spoil her more.

      Evie nodded, clearly impressed with his choice. He had a feeling there was a hedonist inside Rachel and he wanted to lure her out. Good food, good wine, flowers, pastries, Vic wanted to fill her life with treats and delights of all kinds.

      “Excellent choice, especially for an early date. She’s going to know you won’t be taking her to gross chain places where everything has a punny name.”

      He withheld a curled lip because that was what she was trying to get from him. Little sisters.

      Back at the bakery, his mother made him have a cup of tea with her as Evie packaged up the heart-shaped vatrushka he’d promised to bring Rachel the day before.

      “I don’t need to tell you to be nice to her. You have wonderful manners,” his mother told him. “I don’t need to tell you anything because you’re a grown person, a man who is kind and will do the right things.”

      She nearly always knew the exactly perfect thing to say. A lot of people—himself included—bitched about their mothers, but his was pretty wonderful. And supportive.

      * * *

      THE SHOP HUMMED with talking and the buzz of the tattoo machines as clients got their ink done. Rachel’s neck was a little sore as she’d spent several hours on a half sleeve, bent at an awkward angle to get the lines laid just right.

      But the work had been really good and she was proud of it, so the sore neck was worth it. Finley, her boss, Cora’s big sister and the owner/operator of Ink Sisters, plopped down in Rachel’s chair.

      “When is the hot Russian coming to get you?”

      “In about twenty minutes. I really could have gone home and met him there.” She shook her head with one of those what can you do movements.

      “Sure you could have. He knows that too. But he wanted to drive you. That’s nice. It’s not like he’s unaware that you can handle yourself and your commute. He wants to take care of you.”

      He did. That’s really what it was. So sweet and sexy. “I bought a new sweater today. I’m so stupid.”

      “Why? Because you want your tits to look nice on your date? Girl, stop. Of course you do. There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop looking for problems.”

      True. She had enough as it was.

      Finley continued, “He’s cute. He’s nice. He has good manners, a job, a house. And he likes you. For you. This is all good. And, by the way, you did amazing work today.”

      “Yeah?” Rachel asked, grinning. She admired Finley’s talent so much, and that she’d been such a wonderful mentor and so supportive had been one of the major reasons she’d been able to make a real go at tattooing.

      It hadn’t been easy. Rachel was good with paper and pen. Or pencils, chalk, paint, whatever. She was artistic. Not something she’d really pursued earlier in her life, but in this new chapter, it had been part and parcel of every day.

      But paper wasn’t skin. And at first it’d been a challenge getting past the fact that she was permanently changing someone’s body and the cost of a mistake was huge. She hated making mistakes.

      Finley had repeated that some artists took longer than others to hit their stride, but that once Rachel trusted herself to do ink, she’d be headed that way. Fear was holding her back from her real potential.

      It had taken a while. Trust, especially of herself, hadn’t been easy. But once she’d taken the leap it had made all the difference. Trust in herself had unlocked something, had enabled Rachel to connect with the work she did on a whole new level.

      “It’ll