So what if Karen saw the little blue sparrows tattooed on her feet? She loved her sparrows. They made her happy. In fact, all her tattoos made her happy. Every line, every curve, every bit of shading and flash of color. She was an artist and her body was her canvas, and if Tom and Karen Walsh couldn’t appreciate that, then to hell with them.

Because how was she ever supposed to convince AJ to be proud of himself if she didn’t set an example?

Lifting her chin in defiance, Brett unlaced her shoes and peeled off her socks, then slid her cardigan off her shoulders and flopped down beside AJ’s mother.

…

As Brett’s arms were revealed, AJ swallowed a lump of dread, praying that his folks wouldn’t comment. Or judge. Or do anything but continue to treat Brett with the same level of welcoming warmth they’d shown her this past hour.

But that was too much to hope for.

“Oh,” his mother squeaked in surprise. She stared at Brett’s angel as if she couldn’t figure out what she was seeing. “Look at that.”

A laugh rose in his throat, but he choked that down, too. His mother’s eyes had traveled to Brett’s dainty feet, which she was wiggling in the water, causing the sparrows to ripple as if they were about to take flight.

He glanced at his dad, whose startled gaze was also focused on Brett. When their eyes met, AJ offered a little shrug, but his father didn’t look amused.

“I didn’t realize you had tattoos,” Karen said brightly, her cheerful tone betrayed by the tense set of her jaw.

“I have several,” Brett answered with a smile. “A couple on my legs, too.”

That got her another “Oh.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, draw them yourself?”

Brett twisted around to smile at him, too. “Some of them. My dad did the angel, and my older brother did the fish on my leg. They’re both tattoo artists.” A pause. “Like me.”

“I see.” His mother’s mouth tightened.

AJ briefly closed his eyes. He hadn’t asked Brett to lie about what she did for a living. He’d fully expected it to come out today. But he’d hoped his folks might pleasantly surprise him. Welcome Brett into the fold without a shred of judgment or disapproval.

Again, too much to hope for.

What followed was a lengthy discussion revolving around when Brett had gotten her ink done, why she’d done it, whether she planned on doing it again, and the best part, the sanitary implications of her using needles on her skin.

“Brett and her family take precautions to make sure everything is safe and that every piece of equipment is sterilized,” AJ said brusquely. “Tattooing is a growing business, Mom. It’s a respected profession.”

His mother looked so unconvinced, and so revolted, that it triggered a wave of embarrassment. Brett’s cheeks had turned bright red, her lips pressed together as if she were trying to bite her tongue. He didn’t blame her. His mother was being a jerk, and he was so damn ashamed of her behavior.

He was about to force a change of subject when his mother did it for him. “I was meaning to ask you,” she said, turning around to look at him. “Did Tamara get in touch with you?”

AJ froze.

So did Brett, before she swiveled her head too, her eyes voicing a silent question.

Tamara?

“We were chatting on the phone, and she mentioned you still hadn’t called her.” His mother’s tone epitomized casual, but it was clear she wasn’t oblivious to the rising tensions on the patio. “So I gave her your number. She said she sent you a message.”

The look on Brett’s face, a mixture of hurt and accusation, sliced into AJ’s chest like a dull blade. Crap. Tamara had texted him. Last night, in fact, when he’d been in the process of making Brett come on her living room floor. He hadn’t texted back, because, frankly, he didn’t frickin’ want to. But he had been wondering how on earth his old classmate had gotten his number.

Now he had his answer.

He looked at Brett, willing her to let it go, silently promising that he’d explain everything, but she lowered her gaze to her lap.

With that tiny act of rejection, AJ shot to his feet. “Sorry to cut this short, but Brett and I have to go,” he announced. “I forgot we made plans with Gage and Skyler.”

For once, the lie didn’t burn his throat. He’d made up excuses his whole life, and each and every one of them had brought a sense of shame and self-loathing, but not today. If he didn’t extricate Brett from this situation, she would inevitably lose her temper, and if that happened, he knew she’d regret it later.

Bullshit. You’re leaving for your sake, not hers.

Hell. Did it matter whose sake it was for? Neither of them wanted to be here, damn it.

Brett practically leaped to her feet. “Right,” she said in a shaky voice. “I totally forgot about that.”

AJ stole a look at his father, who’d been sitting at the table in silence for the duration of the tattoo interrogation. Tom wore the strangest expression on his face, but for the life of him, AJ couldn’t decipher it. He assumed his father was as appalled by Brett’s “ghastly” appearance as his mother was, and AJ was pissed off at them both