Mason: Inked Reapers MC (88 page)

Epilogue

The late afternoon sunlight warmed Brea’s bare legs as she locked up the door in front of her. She was closing up early for the day seeing how it was a special occasion. She was smiling to herself and humming as she turned the key in the lock. The wording painted on the glass door read ‘Brea’s Tattoos’. There was no need for a metal shutter, the locked door would suffice. This was a nice neighborhood, the kind of place where people paused to greet one another on the street and smiled and waved when they drove by in their cars. It was the kind of place Brea had always hoped she’d someday live in.

Walking away from the store she owned, Brea held her head high. She headed over to a nearby parking lot where her bright red convertible was parked, waiting for her arrival. From the lot, she could see the ocean, which sparkled in the sunlight like the rarest of jewels. Brea took a moment to enjoy the stunning view, as she often did. She could taste the salt in the air and it tasted good. Everything here was so fresh, so perfect. Eventually, Brea climbed into her car and turned on the engine. It purred like a kitten as she manoeuvred out of the parking lot and commenced on the short drive home.

As she drove, the ocean remained on her right, reminding her of how beautiful this part of the world was and how lucky she was to live in it. Several cars honked at her as they passed, most just waved. Everyone in town knew Brea. She’d even worked on most of them. People knew her name and they liked her. They’d stop by her store just to catch up and ask her how things were. But no one knew about the past she’d been running from for so long. All they knew was that she’d been drawn to their beautiful coastal town and had decided to set up a shop there and plant some roots for her future. And who could blame her? They lived in their very own little slice of heaven.

It took less than ten minutes to reach the high rise condominiums in which Brea now lived. She parked in her usual spot and glanced at the distant turquoise waters of the complex’s communal swimming pool and considered taking a quick dip. She started and ended most of her days with a brisk swim and it showed. Her golden legs were sculpted and made her look athletic and healthy. Even her dark hair had turned as golden as the sun which kissed it daily.

Brea decided that she didn’t have time to swim. She instead headed towards the main building.

“Hey, Frank,” she smiled warmly at the uniformed security guard drinking his coffee in the reception area.

“Hey, Brea. You’re home early,” Frank noted kindly.

“Yep, it’s a special day today,” Brea grinned excitedly at the old man as she hurried for the stainless steel doors of the waiting elevator.

“He already told me,” Frank laughed jovially. “Have a nice night, Brea.”

“You too,” Brea called out as the doors closed on her and started taking her up to the eighth floor. They opened once again with a soft ping and Brea entered a lavishly decorated hallway. There were solid wooden floors and beige walls decorated with fancy pieces of art. It was a beautiful building to live in. But the real selling point was the view. Brea let herself into her condominium and held her breath, just as she always did. The far wall was made entirely of large windows which boasted a spectacular view of the ocean beyond. It was simply beautiful.

“You’re home,” Miles was striding over to her. He quickly enveloped her in his powerful arms and kissed her. Brea melted against it. The best part of coming home was being with Miles. He still smelled of oil from his day spent working as a mechanic, but Brea liked it. She clung to him tightly, trying to drink him all in.

“How was your day?” Miles asked as they eventually parted.

“It was great,” Brea smiled. And it truly had been. She’d worked on two new clients today. Everyone had loved her work and gushed about it to her. The look on their faces, as they admired Brea’s art, which had been permanently inked into their skin, was priceless. Each time, Brea would swell with pride and remember what had drawn her to becoming a tattooist in the first place.

“And it’s about to get even better,” Miles was disappearing towards the sleek modern kitchen, which was attached to the main living area. The entire apartment was based on an open plan creating a ton of room and brightness. Glorious natural light flooded in through the large windows making everywhere seem even more perfect.

When Miles returned, he was carrying a small gift bag which appeared to be from the boutique jewelers in town. Brea’s face lit up as he handed it to her.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she swiftly protested.

“Of course I did,” they sat down together on their leather sofa as Brea opened the bag. “You already gave me my gift.” Miles made a fist, revealing how Brea’s name had recently been tattooed across his fingers.

Brea rummaged through the tissue paper, to find a small black box at the base of the bag. Her heart was racing as she pulled it up to her chest and slowly opened it. In the box was a beautiful golden ring with diamonds set in it to the shape of a perfect bow. It was beautiful. Each precious stone sparkled magically in the sunlight.

“Oh, Miles, it’s perfect,” Brea gushed. It was the ring she’d admired in the window as they’d been walking through town together on one lazy Sunday afternoon.

“The lady at the store said the size should be fine but, if not just pop in and ask for Giselle.”

Brea was only half listening as she slipped the ring onto her left hand. It went nearly all the way to her knuckle but was blocked by the golden band which was already sitting there. Brea extended out her hand and admired her new ring.

“I love it.”

“And I love you,” Miles reached over and cupped her head in his hands, kissing her softly. “Happy one-year anniversary, baby,” he murmured contentedly.

Brea closed her eyes and let the kiss deepen, remembering how a year ago, she and Miles had driven up to Vegas and made a promise to love each other forever. They were done running, done hiding from demons that might not even be chasing them. As man and wife, they made the decision to find a town in California that they both liked and stayed there. And now a whole year had passed and life was better than ever, better than Brea could ever have imagined it would be.

“I was thinking we could go grab dinner at the fish place we like down by the docks,” Miles said when their kiss ended. Brea reached for his recently tattooed fingers, interlocking them with her own. She loved how small her hand felt when she placed it in his. Miles always made her feel so safe, so protected.

“Do you think one day I can call him?” she wondered dreamily. Miles leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon her forehead.

“One day,” he vaguely promised. Brea gave a wistful smile and started to think about what she’d wear that evening. She didn’t dwell on the topic of her estranged brother any longer. Sylar was back in their hometown. He was leading the Blood Pact and embracing his choice to lead a life of violence and crime. Did he ever spare a thought for Brea the way she did for him? One day when she did eventually make that fateful call and reach out to him, would he welcome it? Or had the divide which erupted between them grown too wide, too impassable?

“Thank you for marrying me,” Miles’ lips grazed against hers as he kissed her one last time before standing up. “I’m going to go and shower.”

Brea felt her heart flutter when she looked up at him. He was still so handsome, so powerful. He could make her feel giddy with just one look.

“No, thank you for marrying me,” she corrected him with a smile as she stood up and taking his hand in hers, began leading him through their apartment towards the plush bathroom which was adjoined to their sumptuous bedroom. Their every movement was bathed in glorious, golden sunshine. It was all perfect, like walking in a dream. Brea had never been happier. She shot Miles a flirtatious look as she entered the bathroom and began removing her shorts and t-shirt. She knew with every reliable beat of her heart that they would always be together.

THE END

I f***ing hate him!

He's arrogant, he's cocky, he's the star of a college soccer team... and he's everything that a girl like me should despise.

He didn't even know my name before this year.

So why can't I keep him off my mind?

Maybe it's because his dad is about to marry my mom.

Maybe it's because I've had the worst crush on him through all of high school.

Maybe it's because he's at my house now taking a shower after soccer practice, and my mom just told me to go hang a fresh towel by his bed.

The water stopped and I know he's getting out, so why am I still at the foot of his bed with the towel in my hands...

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xoxo

Heather

More works from Heather West

***

Ashley
It isn't easy going home – not when HE'S there.
How couldn't I love him? His blond hair, tousled from his football helmet, the muscles rippling along his quarterback shoulders, the way he looks at me when we pass each other half-clothed in the hallway in the middle of the night...
His eyes, exposing me. Baring me. Stripping me down to nothing but skin and desire.
I've never wanted anything like I wanted him to cross the distance between us.
I can't act on this lust, can't say anything. It would destroy our family.
But I'm only human. And he's sleeping in the room next door...
Danny
I'm happy to see her, of course.
But it's hard to ignore the feeling she ignites in my chest.
Once upon a time, that used to be enough. But not anymore.
Now, when she looks at me and bites her lower lip, desire flashing through her eyes, I worry that I will lose control. I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from doing what we both want – making her mine.
The problem is, she's mine already.
And she's sleeping in the room next door.

He was the last thing I wanted. But we can’t always get what we want.
He was my once-best-friend, my ex-neighbor, and overall, the most infuriating and arrogant S.O.B. named Domenic Thomas, whose dazzling smile and mouth-watering physique could break every heart in the room. He was the star of the high school baseball team, and his nickname was DTF—his first two initials, but conveniently standing for Down To F***, because f***ing is what he did best.
And the last time we saw each other, we had sex. Mind-blowing, life-altering, incredible sex.
And he hasn’t spoken to me since.
I was young, stupid, and a little in love back then. I was the simple, quiet, plain straight-A’s girl who nobody, let alone Domenic, should have noticed… But that doesn’t matter now. I’m planning on never seeing him again.
It’s been six years since my worst mistake and heartbreak, and now he’s coming back… and there is no way I can stay away from him. Because the reason he’s coming back is that our parents are getting married.
That’s right. The man who took my f***ing virginity and left without a word wasn’t just a much-hated stranger anymore...