Bad Boy Ink (Get Ink'd #5) - Ali Lyda Page 0,4

take on extra jobs to pay the bills. It made me happy to see her light up knowing I’d finish my degree.

A degree that would get me the job that would allow me to dive right back into that dark and shadowed world and atone for my past mistakes—and make sure that what happened to my grandma didn’t happen to other innocent people. And this time it would be legal. I’d be paid for it.

All thanks to a run-in with a federal agent at a career fair. Fate kicking me in the nuts. I’d framed the pamphlet from the FBI and hung it next to the front door of the house we shared—that way I’d be reminded of what I wanted each time I left home.

And honestly, everything was falling into place with such ease that I couldn’t help being mad at myself for not considering this sooner. Though, I supposed, I’d needed to go through the years of taking care of my grandmother and working at Get Ink’d to truly be ready to try again. And...maybe I hadn’t allowed myself to believe I deserved more than what I already had.

I knew I’d done a lot of good with the past few years. But did a handful of good outweigh the hardship of all those people I’d once taken from? I had to hope so, especially with so many people rooting for me. Like my grandmother. Like Reagan.

Reagan had adjusted my client load and schedule to accommodate my course load, because of course he had. The man was the most supportive person I knew. I’d be pulling some extra time on some weekends, but it was a small price to pay. My grandmother was happy.

And I was ecstatic.

So what if I was older than a lot of my classmates? That didn’t mean I couldn’t get every positive thing from my second chance at the college experience. In my first two classes, I’d struck up conversations left and right. I couldn’t help it—it had never been difficult for me to make friends or fit in. I loved people, I loved conversation, and being in groups lit me up like nothing else.

Honestly, the only people I’d never gotten along with were my parents. But they were homophobic assholes and...I wasn’t going to let that keep me down. I couldn’t, not anymore. That was the past and I kept it tucked carefully there, far from where it could hurt me.

Some of my new friends walked with me across the quad as I made my way to my last class. All around I heard calls as people recognized me. I waved, I smiled, I thumbs-upped. Yeah, I heard the “Thor” nickname quite a bit as well, which never stopped delighting me. I suppose I did resemble the superhero. Maybe I’d be Fat Thor for Halloween, complete with a bathrobe.

There was a stark difference between when I’d first tried to go to college at nineteen and now. I’d dropped out of school at twenty-two to help my grandmother, one year shy of a degree. But my time on campus before had felt… sillier. Less meaningful. Like I was going through the motions without knowing why.

Now I was twenty-seven and I knew exactly why I was there. That kind of focus meant that despite the friendships and joyful camaraderie, I wasn’t at school to make more friends. I was there to get a degree and truly start my life on my own terms.

Saying goodbye to the group, I headed into a large, brick building for my last class. It was one of the basic core requirements the university had for graduation. While they’d accepted most of my previous credits, this was one that hadn’t moved over, but I didn’t mind. Just being in school again had all my synapses firing and I was ready to take on whatever my classes threw at me.

Inside the door, I scanned the room, and there was a flash of shaggy, dirty blond hair that caught my attention. It flopped over the owner’s forehead, but I’d know those slim shoulders anywhere. Oh, ho ho. Bingo.

There was no other choice. I moved through the tables and chairs until I reached the seat next to Aiden and I made a big show of pulling out the chair and flopping down. There was no missing the stiffening of his spine and the slow shift of his attention.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I said, clasping my hands behind my head and stretching. His scowl was simply