Masquerade Read Online Free

lost me. How they both loved me even though I didn’t know quite how to feel about any of them. Didn’t know how I felt about that screwed up word
love
at all. Rex and Melody had always told me they’d loved me but now I knew they’d stolen me. My real parents said they loved me but they didn’t really know me. I wasn’t their little girl anymore. How can you love someone you don’t know?
    It hurt and I cried, my chest feeling hollow and broken, knowing I should feel so many things I didn’t know how to.
    Nothing changed.
    I didn’t hurt any less. My real family was still broken-hearted and confused, and I’d lost who I considered my mom and dad.
    That’s when I decided I wouldn’t lose myself in the past anymore. I wouldn’t stress and dwell on things I couldn’t change or even things I could, because if I made that decision the first time, there was a reason. I would stick with my choices, even when someone didn’t get them or I got shit for being closed off or hard. And I wouldn’t worry about love or try to figure it out.
    Girls aren’t allowed to feel that way, I guess.
    This is why I’m pissed that I haven’t stopped thinking about Maddox since he walked out of Masquerade. I’m not daydreaming about the sex, though it was good. No, better than good. I keep seeing that look on his face when I told him no about apprenticing with me.
    I recognized the expression because I’ve felt it before. It’s more than disappointment. It’s loss.
    I’ve been lost since I was four years old, even though I didn’t know it until I was thirteen. Being found didn’t help that feeling of being misplaced, either.
    It pisses me off and makes me feel soft.
    With a towel, I wipe away the excess ink on the tat I’m giving before studying the daffodil. The girl has her hair over her opposite shoulder as she leans away from me while I work on her shoulder. She told me when she first came in that it was her first ink and she looked like she would dash at any second. She didn’t and she’s hardly made a peep besides to answer questions I ask her.
    “What’s it mean?” I ask as I put the gun to her skin again. You can always tell those people who come and get something that’s forgettable. They pick a design off the wall or something like that. It’s obvious when people get tattoos because they mean something. The one this girl brought in means something to her.
    After a short silence, I add, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I have some that no one will ever know why I got them.” When you engrave something into your skin, it’s personal—important. Or at least it should be.
    “No, it’s cool,” she replies, but then still doesn’t talk for a few more seconds. “Daffodils are supposed to symbolize rebirth. I need that, I think.”
    I almost pause and pull back the tattoo gun, but I make myself keep going. Rebirth. I’m not sure how I feel about that concept. “Do you believe it? That people can be reborn?” Even though it doesn’t really change anything, that’s kind of what tattooing is to me—rebirth. Not sure why, but Maddox pops into my head again and I wonder if he needs to be reborn from something.
    “I want to.”
    We don’t share any more words as I finish her piece. When I’m done, I wipe it clean. “You wanna see it?” I ask her.
    She stands with her back to the mirror and looks at the yellow and orange flower.
    “It’s gorgeous,” she says. There’s awe in her voice.
    I love that feeling. Love knowing that I gave someone something that is a part of them. “Cool.”
    After she’s done, I put some saran wrap on it and give her aftercare instructions. She lets her red hair fall over her shoulders again.
    “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m Camie.”
    Which I knew from looking at her ID and her consent form, but I still shake her hand. “Bee.”
    She hands me the money before walking out. I feel kind of jittery, though I don’t know why. It was just a tattoo, but