Except—I made a deal with San. I stay two years, and if it doesn’t work, he pays me what I would’ve earned doing my regular guest appearances. If the place becomes what he envisions, I have to buy him out—not sure where I’ll get the fucking money for that. That’s a problem for never because I’m here to prove him wrong.

Exhaling through my nose, jaw tight, I unlock the door.

The Shop.

The moment I step inside, I know I’m fucked.

The place isn’t half-finished or a work in progress. It’s done.

The walls are a deep charcoal, smooth and freshly painted. The floors are a mix of polished hardwood and dark tile, giving the space a clean, professional feel. The stations are already set up—brand-new black leather chairs, adjustable lights, stainless steel tool trays waiting to be stocked. Everything is exactly how I designed it when Sanford finally convinced me to do this.

I drag a hand over my jaw, scanning the space, letting the silence settle around me. The air still carries the scent of fresh paint and new furniture, not the familiar mix of ink, antiseptic, and burnt skin I’m used to.

I don’t like it.

Not yet.

Crossing the shop, my boots thud against the floors as I head toward the back, where the storage room is supposed to be. I push the door open—and grit my teeth.

Fully stocked.

Shelves lined with ink bottles, boxes of gloves, fresh machines, and needles. Every single thing I’d need. Every single thing I would have ordered myself if I had taken the time. It’s obvious now—Sanford wasn’t just making this easy. He was making it impossible for me to leave.

If this place had been a mess—half-finished, needing repairs—I could have walked away without hesitation. But now? I’d have to be an idiot to turn my back on it.

And Sanford knew that.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. This is real. This isn’t just another guest spot in another city, another temporary gig before I move on. This is mine. At least for two years. That’s the deal.

But if I stay . . . this is the last place I want to be. There’s too much history here, none of it good. Losing my mom. Learning that my so-called happy family of three was a lie. Finding out my father was a piece of shit who liked to hit his wife and kids. Oh, there was also the fact that he had another family.

Those aren’t memories I want following me for the rest of my life.