Wyatt Gets Inked

FERN

I still feel weird having a driver, but Wyatt insists, so I sit impatiently in the back seat outside the train station, waiting for Thora to get here from Oxford. I spot her ponytail amid the crowd and step out of the back seat, waving. “Thora!” I call to her, and she glances up from her phone, smiling. 

She slides in beside me in the car and gives me a hug. “Fancy.” Thora smooths her hands along the leather interior. I grin. She shakes her head. “I still don’t understand what today is all about, but that’s okay.”

I pat her leg. “It’s Wyatt’s tattoo day. It’s a whole family thing.”

Thora frowns. “I have heard of the Stag family tattoo … but why are they all here for it?”

I shrug. “Wyatt was supposed to get it ages ago. Or tradition would have had him get it when he turned 18. He’s behind.”

We catch each other up on school as the driver heads toward Wyatt’s flat in Stratford. A thought occurs to me, and I frown at Thora, confused. “Why isn’t Odin taking you? Is he here?”

Thora shakes her head. “He had a thing today. Very hush-hush. The family knows.”

I bite my lip. “I guess it’s a little ridiculous to try and get all 20 of them here.”

Thora guffaws. “Oh, honey. They are ridiculous. All of them.”

The driver lets us out and we head up the steps to Wyatt’s place. We can hear the Stag family before we get into the living room, which does indeed seem to be packed with 20-plus relatives all sipping bubbly water and gathered around a table set up in the middle of the room. 

Wyatt, shirtless on the table, looks toward the door and grins. “Okay, she’s here. We can start now.”

He glances down at his chest, where there’s an outline of a stag leaping over a bridge, surrounded by … I gasp and hold a hand over my mouth. “I thought everyone does laurel branches. Are those–”

Wyatt grins and sinks his head back onto the table, hands clasped behind his neck. “Those are ferns. Did you know they thrive wherever they’re planted?”

A lump has formed in my throat, and I cough a little when I try to swallow. Someone hands me a can of bubbly water and I sip, laughing. The Stag family really flew themselves to London, along with their preferred tattoo artist, so that Wyatt could get inked up in between matches.

At some point, all the Stag men decide they should take their shirts off and compare how well their tattoos have aged. Thora and I meet each other’s eye, still new enough at being around this many muscles that it takes us by surprise. Wyatt’s mom makes her way over to me and whispers, “It’s okay to be impressed. They’ve all aged well, haven’t they?”

She makes doe eyes at her husband and absentmindedly brings a hand to her shoulder. “I have one, too, you know.” She grins. “We literally all have one. Even Professor Haute.”

Hearing her name, Wyatt’s Grand smiles and raises her can. “I have lots of tattoos, though. What’s one more?”

Soon, the crowd conversation moves to discussions of which tattoos should go where on whose body. I leave them to it and make my way toward Wyatt, whose eyes are closed as he gets stabbed repeatedly with the tattoo needle. 

I crouch down beside his head and whisper into his ear. “You added a fern.”

He opens his eyes and looks into mine, smiling. He reaches for my hand, and I’m surprised by the strength of his grip against my fingers. “I needed a fern. I always need my Fern.”

I want to swat at him, but I don’t want to mess up the tattoo, so I furrow my brow instead. “You can’t catch me off guard like this in front of your family.”

He laughs. “Or what? You’ll express an emotion? I think you can probably tell that we’re big on those.”

Sure enough, half his cousins are arguing, half are hugging, and all his aunts and uncles are reminiscing about falling in love. “Yeah,” I whisper. “You are.”

The tattoo only takes about a half hour, and Wyatt sits up, cling film taped to his pec, arms raised in triumph. The room erupts in cheers, and the tattooer looks like he just won a World Cup. I approach Wyatt gingerly, worried I’ll hurt him if I give him a hug, but I need to hold him so desperately after he added me permanently to his body. 

I trace a finger around the square of bandaged skin. “This is forever, you know.”

He turns to face me, grasping both my hands in his, and resting his forehead against mine. His eyes bore into mine, absolutely serious. “This is forever, Fern. I love you, now and always.”

I melt into him and rest my cheek against the hot bandage. He doesn’t flinch. “I love you, Wyatt. So much.”

Thanks again for reading Forging Legacy. If you loved Wyatt and Fern’s relationship, you’re going to swoon for Odin and Thora and their book, Forging Chaos.