Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,77
was hungry. I hadn’t taken a break yet today, so I asked, “Bryan, wanna grab dinner? I’m starving and it can be my treat.”
I knew he was fresh out of juvie and hadn’t received his first paycheck yet.
“Uh, sure.” He sounded cautious, but it was a good sign he didn’t immediately reject an offer to help.
“I’m going to text Reagan and let him know. I can drive or you can.”
Bryan smiled shyly. “Since you’re buying, I’ll drive.”
“Cool.”
I sent Reagan a quick text to let him know I was out with Bryan who seemed to need a bit of support. He sent back a quick thumbs-up emoji.
Bryan’s car was old. The term “rust bucket” would have been generous. But it was clean inside, and you could tell he took care of it. We stopped at a burger place close by. He ordered sparingly, so I added extra fries and two milkshakes to my order. I knew firsthand how hard it was to take people up on generosity after being locked up, afraid you’d be taking advantage. I didn’t mind letting him know that he could order what he needed.
Once we were sitting and digging in, Bryan seemed to hedge around actually talking to me. I let us dance from small talk topic to small talk topic before finally cutting to the chase. “You know you can ask me anything, right? We don’t know each other well, but I want to be able to help you if I can.”
His blush was adorable. It matched his hair, and reminded me of Reagan. “I was hoping you could tell me about how you went from being like me to being like—well, how you are now.”
“You mean in school?”
He nodded.
I dragged a French fry through ketchup while collecting my thoughts. “In a lot of ways I was lucky. My friends and I broke into Get Ink’d.” His jaw dropped and I laughed. “Oh, it gets better. I was the lookout and got caught by Dane.” Bryan shook his head in disbelief, so I kept going. “It is a longer story than that, but ultimately Dane was trying to bang my brother, Christian, and I ended up getting a job instead of them calling the cops.”
I ate a fry and shrugged. “Christian gave me a home. But I also started speaking with a therapist. And Get Ink’d has high standards for their employees—I saw all of these big, tough men doing good work, showing up on time, and living these authentic lives despite having had rough childhoods. It made me believe it wasn’t just possible for me to do and be better, but, like...it made me want it, you know?”
Bryan wrinkled his nose. “I do know. But it’s so hard when everyone assumes you’re a loser. Every day I feel like I have to climb a mountain to prove myself to people who don’t even know me. Over and over. And yet sometimes it seems like people will never believe I deserve to be at the top, so, you know, why even bother?”
His words hit me hard. I knew those feelings all too well. “I get that. As hard as the streets are, in some ways they’re easier, too. But what would going back to the streets do for you now?”
“I’d go to jail,” Bryan said right away. He obviously had given this a lot of thought. “Too close to eighteen for another stint in juvie.”
“Right,” I agreed. “It’s going to take more than a few weeks for you to stop feeling like you have to start each day at the bottom. And it’ll be hard, but you’ll have to trust that people are trying to help you and want the best for you.”
Bryan frowned, his expression distant. “I guess that’s the thing. I trusted people who wanted to help me, and it landed me in juvie. Now… well, you’re seeing Reagan, right?”
Fuck. I was worried about where this was going. Especially since I’d forgiven Reagan but still felt the residual raw hurt of our fight. I’d have to follow my own advice and remember it would take time for him to prove he was willing to meet me halfway. But that wasn’t what Bryan was asking about...I hoped. “Yes. We started dating this summer.”
“But he hired you, and it’s working out?”
Careful here, Channing. “...Yes. And no. Dane hired me originally, but Reagan endorsed it. The job worked out long before any relationship—Reagan more than made sure of that. I was on my feet and confident