“It’s all good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, babe.” He leans back. “Now, tell me about your tattoo.”

I study him for a moment, trying to understand why I still feel this heavy weight in my stomach, the one that’s been there since I read his text. It should be gone now that we talked and after he accepted my apology, but it isn’t.

Figuring the best course of action is to get this over with so we can both go our separate ways, I explain the tattoo then sit back and watch him create magic with a pencil. Forty minutes later, we say goodbye, and a part of me knows it will be the last time I see him. That hurts more than it should, but as I lie on the tattoo table with Blossom embedding my tattoo into my skin, I know that a part of him will always be with me.

“Now that you’re officially a badass, let’s go get a drink,” April says with a grin while grabbing my hand and leading me toward her car.

I do kinda feel like a badass. I now have a tattoo, a fricking beautiful tattoo I know I’ll never regret getting, and not just because Gareth designed it, but because it’s beautiful and exactly what I always wanted. “Where are we going?”

April stops as soon as the question leaves my mouth, and her head swings down toward me. “What?”

“What?” I repeat, frowning at her.

“You want to go get a drink?”

“Isn’t that what you normally do after you get a tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay... so like I said, where are we going?”

She studies me for a moment, and then her lips tip up into a smile and she mumbles, “Apparently to the bar.”

Beeping the car alarm, she lets go of my hand and I get in, feeling a slight twinge of pain hit my side as I twist to slide into the low seat. Once I’m settled and we’re buckled in, she starts the engine. Until that moment, I never understood the appeal of the loud rumble of her car, but apparently being a newborn badass, I’m able to appreciate it now. And I appreciate it more when she switches the song playing from the speakers from one I don’t know to “Welcome to the Jungle,” turning the volume all the way up and rolling down the windows. Even though it’s cold out, I relish the moment, and knowing the lyrics, I sing along at the top of my lungs.

We pull into the parking lot for one of the local bars, and April waits until the song comes to an end before she rolls up the windows and shuts down the engine. The smile on my face is huge as I get out, slamming my door. When we meet at the hood, she tosses her arm around my shoulders then leads me inside.

The place is packed. There are a few college kids, but most of the people are our age or older. We go right to the bar, and as soon as we reach the edge, April lets me go and leans over the top of the counter. I look around; the music and chatter is deafening, but every person seems to be smiling and enjoying their night out. Before I even have a chance to glance back at my sister, she’s shoving a glass into my hand. I take it then follow her across the room to a table that has free chairs but is covered with beer bottles and empty glasses.

Suddenly feeling out of place, I take a sip from my drink and start to cough. It’s vodka, and if I’m not wrong, nothing else besides ice. “Vodka?”

“You’re a badass, and badasses drink vodka straight.” She grins, finishing her drink in one gulp.

“Screw it.” I down the rest of the drink in one large gulp then slam it on the table.

“Total badass.” My sister grins, and I laugh.

Four

Gareth

“I TALKED TO your aunt last night,” Mom says casually as she wipes down the counters in my kitchen like I haven’t done it in ages, when I just did it this morning after cooking the boys breakfast.

“And?”

“She mentioned a girl who came in last night to get a tattoo. Who was she?”

“No one.”

“Seriously, Gareth?” She shakes her head, looking frustrated, and I glance over my shoulder at my sons to make sure they’re still preoccupied with the video game they’re playing. I should have planned for this. I knew when my aunt witnessed my reaction to seeing December again that she would be all too happy to tell my mom about that interaction and that my mom would be curious.

“Mom.” I sigh.

“Honey, you haven’t dated since—”

“Don’t. Do not bring her up,” I growl. I don’t even like thinking that woman’s name, let alone hearing it. “I have two boys to raise and two jobs. I don’t exactly have a lot of free time for dating anyone.”

“Blossom said she’s really pretty and sweet. She also said you seemed a little annoyed seeing her but could tell there was something between you two.”

Fuck, my aunt is observant, and she has a big mouth. I jerk my fingers through my hair. If I’m honest, I was completely thrown off guard when I saw December, and struck stupid by just how beautiful she looked without even trying.

“So who is she?” Mom questions again quietly this time.

Who is she?

The woman who’s taken over my every thought, the woman who rocked my world with an apology she didn’t really owe me but still gave me anyway, in which she sounded sincere and like she really hoped I got that she regretted leaving. The woman who would probably want nothing to do with me if she knew I had two boys I’m raising on my own, and a crazy ex who shows up out of the blue from time to time just to fuck with me and my kids.

“So?”

I look at my mom, the woman who gave birth to me, the woman who raised me and my sisters on her own, doing it and never once complaining. Just like she’s never complained when I’ve needed her to help with her grandsons. I wish I could give her something, something to make her stop worrying about me, but I can’t. Even if I want to be the asshole who storms into December’s life and forces her to take a chance on me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her, and her eyes narrow. “She’s a nice woman, but she’s not for me.” Why the fuck does my chest suddenly hurt at that bit of self-truth?

Mom studies me for a moment then her eyes fill with a disappointed light. “All right, honey.”

Thank fuck. I know my mom can be persistent when she gets something in her head, and if she thinks for one second I’m missing out on something, she will make it her mission to get me what she thinks I need.

“You staying for dinner?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

“It depends. What are you making?”

“The boys want lasagna, so I picked up the stuff yesterday.”

“Are you making your cheesy garlic bread?”

“What do you think?” I raise one brow.

She grins. “Right. Then I’m definitely staying.”

I grin back before looking toward the couch, where both Max and Mitchell are sprawled out. “Boys, I’m gonna start dinner soon and Grandma is staying.” I get a “Cool” and a “Right on” before I continue. “I hope you both got your homework done, because it’s your turn to do dishes and it’s Yahtzee night.” I listen to both of them groan and turn off the game along with the TV before heading for their rooms without a word. When I look back at my mom, she’s got an odd look on her face. “What?”