Page 17 of Exposed Ink

I felt too much guilt.

I was too terrified.

My dad nods in understanding, then pulls me back into his arms. “You’ll get there, Kins. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Take it one day at a time.”

SIX

Shane

“What are you looking at?”

The sound of Taylor’s voice has me jumping in my seat. When I got home from the station this morning, she was still asleep.

“Nothing,” I murmur, closing my laptop.

“Don’t lie.” She laughs, lifting the screen back up so the Google page I was looking at is front and center.

“Are those”—she leans in closer—“tattoos?” She scrunches her nose up. “Dad, please tell me you aren’t looking at Google for tattoo ideas.”

I groan, remembering Kinsley’s words.“Don’t even think about getting it off Google or Pinterest.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to get inspiration?” I grumble, closing the laptop again and turning to face my daughter.

“Wait, you’re really considering getting a tattoo?” Her brows hit her forehead as she looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“So what if I am?” I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Aren’t you a little old to be rebelling?” Taylor smirks.

“It’s not rebellion when you’re of age.”

“Right … so what is it then? A midlife crisis?” She cackles, and I huff out an annoyed sigh.

“Just drop it,” I say. “You want to make breakfast or go out?”

Every Saturday or Sunday, depending on our schedules, Taylor and I spend some time together. It’s our thing. We’re both busy, especially her with her job and school and cheerleading and friends, so if our schedules align, we’ll have breakfast together and then take Becky for a walk while we catch up on what we did during the week. Thankfully, my daughter likes me and goes along with it.

“I’m not dropping it,” she says. “What’s going on, Dad? I’ve known you my entire life, and you’ve never even mentioned getting a tattoo before. If you want one, that’s cool, but searching for one online isn’t it.”

“That’s what she said,” I mutter.

“Who?” Taylor quirks a brow.

“The tattoo artist. She said she’d only ink something meaningful on me and told me not to even think about finding one on Google or Pinterest.”

“She’s not wrong.” Taylor laughs. “Casey went to Exposed Ink to get a tattoo for her eighteenth birthday and dragged me along with her …”

My eyes lock with Taylor’s. This is the first time I’m hearing about this. Casey is a year older than Taylor, but they’re friends because they’re both on the same cheer team.

If Casey went to get a tattoo and Taylor went with her, does that mean …

“No, Dad, I didn’t get one,” Taylor says, answering my silent question. “One, I’m not eighteen, and Exposed Ink won’t tattoo or pierce anyone under eighteen without consent.”

My thoughts go to Kinsley, and I wonder if she’s met my daughter …

“The woman there refused to tattoo Casey because she wanted some stupid unicorn flower design.” She rolls her eyes. “I told her not to do it, that it was cheesy as hell, but she told me it was cute, and she loved it.” She cringes dramatically. “The woman at the shop … Kinsley, I think her name was … told Casey that a unicorn dies every time a woman gets one tattooed on them and that she couldn’t contribute to the death of a unicorn.”

She laughs, and I find myself grinning as I picture Kinsley saying this to Casey. The woman clearly cares, or she wouldn’t refuse to ink people, but she’s blunt, and she doesn’t mince words, telling it like it is.

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