11. Kennedy
I don’t even bother knocking before walking into Parker’s house. Instead, I slam the door behind me and head toward the kitchen.
“Your kid is an asshole.”
She smiles at me from the kitchen table, where she is sitting with a pile of paperwork and her laptop.
“I mean, that’s not news.” She shrugs and goes back to her work. “What did he do today?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s see.” I plop down across from her and lay my head on my crossed arms. “He told Josh Harmon, that hot firefighter, that I couldn’t go on a date with him because I belonged with Linc.”
Okay, so I’m paraphrasing, but still, Parker could have responded with something other than an indelicate snort.
“He’s not lying. Things fell apart with douche-canoe Royal for a reason.”
It is my turn to snort, and I shake my head against my arm. Parker is the only one who knows what happened with him, since she was the one to pick me up from the hospital and help me hide my wounds until my bruises faded.
The front door opens in the distance, and the telltale stomping that announces Nox and Remy are home feels almost comforting. At least with them being home, Parker and I won’t start talking about what happened.
“I’m getting my tattoo this afternoon,” I tell her just as they walk into the kitchen. “My tattoo artist sent me a message wanting to know what I want, but I honestly have no idea.” I look down at my wrist where the faded and light-pink scar stands out against my skin. “What do you think I should get?”
“I know!” Nox throws his backpack on the ground next to me and then grabs my arm like it belongs to him. “You should get something cool, something that makes you look like a superhero, you know?”
Parker chuckles quietly while Nox tries to explain himself, and Remy grabs something out of the fridge, purposefully staying out of the conversation.
“You know,” Nox goes on with a giant smile on his face while he traces an imaginary path down my arm. “You could get a cool lightning bolt and the clouds around it, and it would be awesome. Like, you know, the sky.”
As he continues to talk about what he thinks I should get as a tattoo and prattles on like it is the absolute best idea that anyone in the entire universe could have, I start to picture it there on my arm. The smooth flash of what lightning actually looks like, with fractured lines and light floating through the air, mixed with clouds and the night sky, it really would look amazing. The kid has a great imagination.
“I think you’re right,” I tell Nox when he finally takes a breath and stops talking. “If you give me my arm back, I’ll let my tattoo artist know and she can design it for me. Then the next time I see you, you can check it out.”
The look on Nox’s face is something I will never forget. Almost like Christmas, his birthday, Halloween, and every other holiday happened to land on the exact same day and I’m the one giving it to him.
“Really?” His voice fades to almost a squeak. “I can’t believe it.” Nox turns to his mom. “Did you hear? She’s gonna get my idea as a tattoo. It’s awesome. I’m awesome.”
“Yeah,” Parker says while pulling him into a hug. “You really are. You’re the most awesome kid in the entire world; did you know that?” She kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair.
“Mooom,” Nox groans as he pulls away from her. “You’re embarrassing me in front of Auntie Kennedy.”
The look of pure outrage on Parker’s face almost has me peeing myself with laughter. In a moment, she flashes between about a dozen different emotions before she finally settles on the look that our mothers used to give us as kids when we were walking the line that led to us getting nothing but healthy food for dinner.
“Run,” I whisper loudly to Nox. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t follow you.”
He runs, and Parker turns her glare on me. “Why’d you let him run away like that?”
Patting her hand like she needs the comfort, I wait for her to calm down before answering.
“Because,” I say slowly. “He’s six. And you’re gonna have to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to grow up eventually. Might as well start now.”
Remy grunts from the other side of the kitchen. “Yeah, right. That kid’s gonna stay little forever.”
“Whatever, big brother.” I smile brightly at him. “Are you speaking from experience? I mean, you are one of the most immature men I know.” Just for good measure, I tilt my head to the side and widen my eyes like saucers.
“Zip it, pipsqueak.” He picks up a can of soda from the counter and opens it, letting the hiss of the carbonation escaping the can fill the air. Then he chugs the entire thing before he burps loudly and sets the can back down. “If you really want to be a jerk, we can start comparing notes on who embarrassed who more. I remember the morning I walked out to find you sneaking out of your room after sleeping with my best friend.”
“Whom,” I correct him.
Both Remy and Parker turn to look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
I can’t help it. My brother has terrible grammar and if I don’t correct him on it, no one will. Parker likes him too much.
“It’s who embarrassed whom more. That’s what you’re trying to talk about.” I shrug when they keep staring. “It’s not my fault you don’t have proper language skills.”
Remy glares at me, and Parker starts laughing like I told the funniest joke in the entire world—which saves me since he turns his glare on her.
“I came to kill time before my appointment.” I look at the clock on my phone. “But now I gotta go get some ink driven into my skin that’s gonna last forever.” With a small wave, I push away from their table and start for the door. “Give Nox a kiss for me. I’m outta here.” I laugh at the fact that I can hear him complaining about my language as I go.
An hour later, I have a bunch of marker drawn onto my arm in a completely unique and hand-drawn image based on what Nox described, and my tattoo artist, Kassy, is getting ready to put the needle to my skin.
Rachel, one of the other artists, shows me a giant jar full of Laffy Taffy, and I smile when she reaches in and hands me a huge handful of the deliciousness.
“These are my absolute favorite,” I tell her conspiratorially. “You’re my favorite person in the entire universe right now.” I know that I’m using the word favorite a lot, but I’m beyond nervous and excited.
When Kassy turns on her tattoo gun, I expect a loud buzzing sound to fill the air. After all, that’s what happens on TV. Instead, it is quiet and almost therapeutic, like a hive of bees ready for spring.
“That is gonna look sick,” Rachel says with a smile. She can’t be any older than forty, with tattoos up and down both her arms and on her legs. In short, Rachel is gorgeous, and her dimples stand out when she smiles.
Kassy’s neon green and black hair falls around her face, giving her a punk rock princess vibe. She looks like someone who’d go with me to a concert and then push through the crowd so that I can stand at the front, which I count as a blessing since I can’t even get people to see me most of the time.
“Do you ever go to the Waterfront?” I ask suddenly. “I could use someone like you when it comes to concerts.”
Kassy laughs while she lays a thin black line on my arm. “Yeah, my partner and I go to concerts there every summer. Why? You wanna go with us sometime?”
“Hell yes,” I tell her. “I can’t really find anyone to go with me, and you’re tall enough that you can see all the openings in the crowd.” I wince when she hits a particularly painful part of the tattoo.
We keep talking, mostly to pass the hours that it takes to cover my scar in the intricate storm that Kassy drew freestyle on my arm.
“Your little nephew had a dope idea,” she says as she wipes blue ink off my arm. “This storm is coming out amazing.”
I sit up a little straighter and look down at the masterpiece she’s creating. It is even more beautiful than I imagined. Swirling clouds with a dozen shades of purple and blue and pink mix together to create a beautiful storm surrounded by streaks of white with a hint of yellow. When I turn my arm while she sits back and stretches her arms above her head, it actually looks like lightning is traveling down my arm and into my wrist.
“Holy shit,” I murmur.
Rachel, who’d left sometime during the tattoo, pops up with a soda in her hand and nods with her lips pursed together. “That’s impressive, Kass.”
Kassy rubs her forehead with the back of her hand and a slight blush creeps up her cheeks. “Thanks. I’m not done yet. But I figured I’d give it my all, especially since it’s a cover-up and how powerful the reason behind it is.”
Swallowing down the tears that threaten to spill out turns out to be harder than I think, and it isn’t until Rachel is handing me a box of tissues that I realize I’m crying while Kassy keeps working on the tattoo.
“I never cry,” I tell them both while Kassy is putting more ink into my skin. “Never.”
“Hey.” Rachel puts her arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay. You made a choice to put that part of your life behind you, to cover that moment with something beautiful.”
“I just…” I keep crying, trying to breathe and force my way through the sudden onslaught of emotion. “I thought I was over it. I processed what happened so long ago, and it hasn’t bothered me since. I don’t understand why it’s hitting me so hard.”
“Because you’re a survivor.”
The familiar deep masculine voice startles me, and I’m not the only one. Kassy jerks her head around, making me think it is a good thing she is done with the tattoo. And even Rachel jumps a little.
Linc stands there, his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants, and rocks back on his feet while he stares at me with an expression I can’t place.
“Your brother told me you were getting a tattoo to cover up the scar, and I had to see it.” The gruff tenor rolls over my skin, causing a shiver to travel down my spine.
“Please, please tell me you’re getting that in your bed at night.” Rachel’s whisper is right next to my ear, and I shake my head with a small tear-filled laugh.
“Nope.” I smack my lips together. “Once upon a time, though.”
Linc moves behind the counter but closer than he was, leaning over to get a better look at my arm, which Kassy is obstructing while she inspects her work. “Can I come see?”
Since it is literally the first direct conversation we’ve had in years that doesn’t have to do with someone else in our families, I have absolutely no idea how to respond or if I should tell him to go fuck himself. The last time he talked to me, he’d been telling me to pull my pants down so he could pull a tick off my ass.
Kassy ends up answering for me. “Yeah.” She moves aside and waves Linc over. “I’m just getting ready to wrap it up.”
I can’t look at him, not and keep the little bit of calm that I’ve managed to get back after crying. Instead, I listen to his boots hit the tile and count.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
He is there, standing so close that I can smell him, and then he shifts. Leaning down so that he can see my tattoo, he puts his arm on the chair, practically touching me. His hand brushes my arm, and a jolt flashes from where our skin touches all the way down into my core.
Linc tilts his head to the side and then looks at me with a puzzled expression. “What’s on your neck?”
I swallow, my throat a fiery combination of ash and regret, and move to cover the necklace before he can see what it is. But I should have known better. Linc has always been faster than me. With one finger, he lifts the necklace I’ve worn every day for over six years out of my shirt and holds it up.
I’m pretty sure everyone around us thinks I’m a fuckin’ weirdo because I sit there with my mouth hanging open, just staring at him like a crazy person.
Linc’s expression never changes. His eyes blaze fiercely as they move from his hand to my face and back again.
He clears his throat and licks his lips. “You kept it? All these years?”
I bite my lip in response. There isn’t much I can say. It’s not like I can lie about it and tell him I hadn’t. I had. And I’ve worn it every single day, hoping that he’ll come back to me.
“What’s that?”
Kassy steps away from my arm after applying the clear Saniderm plastic so that my tattoo will heal.
“It’s my dog tag.” Linc’s voice breaks on the last word, but no one else but me notices. “I gave it to her before my deployment.”
Kassy smiles at that and then steps away. “You two are so freaking cute it kills me.”
I can’t contradict her because once upon a time, I thought the exact same thing.
“Yeah, we are.” Linc’s voice pours over me again, wrapping me in a warm blanket of longing. “Did it hurt?” His eyes are on the tattoo, and he is still too close for comfort.
I bite my tongue, trying to clear my head of all things Linc. Because if he stays that close to me, I’ll combust.
When I finally feel like I can breathe, I slide away from him and off the tattoo chair in the opposite direction. Once I’m on two feet again, I grab my bag and walk out since I already paid Kassy before she started.
“You know.” I look back at Linc, who has already started to follow me toward the door, and give him my best mocking expression. “Strangely, it didn’t hurt as much as you breaking my heart with your vanishing act.”