Page 22 of Exposed Ink

That’s perfect.

Then, why is it that I suddenly really freaking hate that word?

* * *

“Holy shit,”Shane breathes, looking at his new tattoo in the mirror. “It looks so good.” He snaps a photo of it in the mirror and then pockets his phone.

“I’m glad you like it. Did your daughter know you were getting it?”

“No. I figured I would show her after it was done. She was giving me shit about getting a tattoo at my age, saying I was going through a midlife crisis.”

He laughs, and I join him. I don’t know his daughter, but the one time I met her, she seemed cool. I could tell she wasn’t at all on board with her friend’s tattoo idea, and that makes me like her even more.

“They grow up too fast,” he says, shaking me from my thoughts. “One minute, I was holding her in my arms and vowing to be the best dad I could be, scared to death that I’d somehow fuck it all up. And the next, she’s driving and working and giving me shit about my tattoo of choice.”

Emotion fills my chest, and before I can think about what I’m saying, I blurt out, “My last tattoo was my daughter’s heartbeat.”

Shane’s eyes widen in shock. “You have a daughter?”

“Had,” I correct. “I mean, she’s still my daughter, but she’s not alive.”

Tears fill my eyes as I lift my shirt to show him the tattoo that’s inked along my left rib cage. And as he kneels in front of me to check it out, memories from the day I got it come back to me …

“I’m prettysure it’s somewhere in here.” I open and close each drawer, trying to find the drawing I drew for my dad but somehow misplaced.

We hired a new cleaning company, and I think they’re moving shit despite me telling them not to. When I reach all the way back in the bottom drawer, my hand latches on to a bunch of papers. I yank them out, and when my eyes land on a certain drawing, I drop it like it’s on fire.

“Did you find it?” Dad asks.

“No,” I whisper, staring at the paper I thought I had thrown out.

“Kins?” Dad says. “What’s?—”

His words come to a halt when his gaze lands on the picture.

“Oh shit,” he whispers.

“I thought it was gone.” Carefully, I take it from the pile. “I can’t believe it’s been two years since I lost her.” I run my finger along the lines of her heartbeat.

Brandon was supposed to tattoo it on me after I gave birth to celebrate us welcoming our little girl into the world. Only there was no celebration or welcoming. Just the doctors taking my stillborn baby out via cesarean while my husband died on the surgical table in another part of the hospital.

I have nothing left of her but this picture I drew of her name and heartbeat. And for the longest time, I couldn’t imagine getting it inked onto my body. But now, staring at it, knowing it’s all I have of her …

“Hey, Dad,” I say, glancing up at him. “Will you tattoo this on me?”

Dad’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I want a part of her on me forever.”

“Her name was Brenna,”I say to Shane even though he can read it himself. “And I killed her before she even had a chance to live.”

EIGHT

Shane

I stare at Kinsley,unsure of what to say, wondering how the hell we went from me reminiscing about my daughter to this …

Fuck, what isthis?

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