Page 10 of Exposed Ink

“Who would want someone like me?” I mutter self-deprecatingly. “I’m broken, damaged …”

“And I felt the same way,” she says, her eyes filled with emotion. “I was a widowed single mom with way too many rolls.”

“You’re beautiful and perfect just the way you are.”

And that’s the truth. Between her raven hair and matching eyes, her gorgeous tattoos, heart-shaped lips, and curvy body, my mom is a knockout. She might be twelve years older than my dad, but she doesn’t look it.

“And so are you,” Mom says, “on the inside and out. I couldn’t imagine finding someone who would want broken, damaged me. But then I met your dad, and you know what?” She tucks several strands of hair behind my ear and then wipes away the tears sliding down my cheeks. “He showed me that I wasn’t broken or damaged after all. And one day, you’ll meet a man who?—”

I start to shake my head in protest, but she keeps going. “I’m not saying you should go in search of a new husband, but you’re young, Kinsley, and you have such a big heart. And even if you’re not ready for anything serious, you still have needs, both emotionally and physically.”

I groan, and she shrugs.

“What? You do. You’ve kept everyone at arm’s length for years now. Maybe it would do you some good to go on a few dates and have some adult conversation with the opposite sex.”

“I talk to men all the time,” I murmur.

“I mean a man who doesn’t work for Exposed Ink or isn’t getting tattooed. A man who will remind you that you didn’t die that night. That you’re still alive, your heart is beating, and you deserve to be happy.”

“It … it just fucking sucks,” I cry out. “I found the one. I found the man I was supposed to spend my life with, and I fucked it all up.”

“Stop it,” Mom hisses. “Nobody blames you but yourself. If it were your fault, you’d be in jail. It was an accident. And you have got to stop blaming yourself. What if Brandon had been the one driving? What if he were the one alive and you and your daughter died? Would you want him to harbor that blame? To live the rest of his life alone and without love?”

She asks the same questions my therapist has asked me in the past. The questions I hate the most because I already know the answers. I know that my husband would’ve given anything for me to be happy, even if it meant without him. But the thought of being happy without him by my side is incomprehensible.

“No.” I sigh, having had this conversation with my therapist more times than I can count.

The car crash was investigated, and no foul play was found. They deemed it a horrible, tragic accident, but it was just that—an accident. But even so, saying the wordaccidentmakes me feel like I’m being let off the hook, and I don’t want to be … I don’t deserve to be.

“I know today is hard on you, so it’s okay to spend the day wallowing and reminiscing, but tomorrow is a new day, and I hope you’ll wake up and choose to live instead of merely existing. I wasted too much time doing the same thing, and I don’t want you to make the mistakes I made.”

“I want to live,” I admit. “I just don’t know how.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Mom says with a soft smile. “On another note, Celeste and Jase are hosting a barbecue next weekend for Melina and James. I hope you’ll come.”

“I’ll be there. I’m happy for her, and I’m not going to break down over someone else finding love, I promise.”

One reason why I’ve considered getting my own place is because of this. My mom is terrified of me breaking down, and I don’t blame her. After almost losing her daughter in a car crash, she flew to Florida and witnessed me lose it. I had to be hospitalized and drugged, and she was scared I was going to end my life.

I’m not going to lie. At the time, I thought about it. But after seeing a therapist over the past three years, I’ve healed in many ways, and I’m happy for the most part.

I have a loving family, a great career, and I’m as content as a woman can be who lost her husband and baby. I enjoy visiting art museums, cooking, and baking. I’ve been going to the health club more often lately. I keep busy. I don’t know why I didn’t die that night, but I don’t want to waste the second chance I was given living a life filled with negativity.

“Okay, good,” Mom says. “I’m making breakfast if you want to join us.”

“I’ll get dressed and head over.”

Once she’s gone, I open my bag of goodies and groan when I find, right next to the adorable stuffed Baby Yoda, a black box that readsPassion Kisses—the online sex toy shop my mom buys her toys from. It should be weird that my mom bought me a vibrator of some sort—and it kind of is—but she’s also my best friend, and she knows I haven’t had sex since Brandon died, so it’s also kind of sweet and thoughtful.

At some point, I’m going to have to figure out my sex life because I don’t want to be abstinent forever, but it’s hard when the last guy I was with was my husband and he was who I thought I would be with for the rest of my life.

Leaving the toy in its packaging, I open a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, pop it into my mouth, and then get ready for the day. My dad wanted me to take off work, but I compromised by shifting my appointments to the afternoon. The last thing I want to do on Valentine’s Day is stay home and wallow. I know Brandon wouldn’t want this for me. He would want me to move forward and be happy. He loved me too much to want me to be unhappy. But it’s easier said than done.

FOUR

Shane

“Dad! I need you!”

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