Page 125 of Let It Breathe
“Fine, fine,” he said. “Just wanted to come find you and see how Reese is doing. You holding up all right, baby?”
Reese shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I think I’ll just take a bath and reread a favorite book or something.”
“That sounds comforting,” her dad said. “Give yourself a nice, quiet night at home to let things settle. Your mom and I will be at the house if you need to talk or anything.”
“We’re here for you, sweetie,” June said.
Jed planted a kiss on his wife’s forehead before turning back to Reese. “You sure you’re okay? It’s kind of a big deal, the whole arson thing and all.”
“Right,” Reese said. She bit her lip. “Look, about Clay?—”
“Always liked that boy,” Jed said, nodding once. “Good to see he’s getting his life back together.”
Reese sighed. “Being investigated for arson will really help with that.”
Her father reached out and patted her arm. “I’m sure it’ll all work out. He’s a tough kid, and I’m sure he’s got a good support system at St. Peter’s. They take care of their own over there.”
Reese frowned at her father. “The Catholic church? What are you talking about? Clay isn’t religious. At least not that I know.”
Hell, did she know? Maybe he really was a stranger to her.
Her father shrugged. “Guess I figured from his tattoo he must be Catholic. Res firma mitescere nescit. Latin. I think I remember it from Mass when I was a kid, or maybe I’ve just seen it around the cycling scene forever.”
“What does it mean?”
“Depends on how you translate it, I guess. ‘A firm resolve doesn’t weaken,’ might be one way to read it,” Jed said. “‘A rigid thing doesn’t soften’ or ‘When you’ve got it up, keep it up,’ is another, though I’m not sure that makes much sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Reese said, realization dawning. “For crying out loud, he has a dirty joke tattooed on his arm. No wonder he wouldn’t tell me what it said.”
“Oh, honey,” June said. “I don’t think he meant it that way.”
Reese snorted. “I think that’s exactly how he meant it. Clay was always all about the dirty double entendre. Now he doesn’t even say fuck when he hits his finger with a hammer. No wonder he’s embarrassed about the tattoo.”
She shook her head, not sure whether to be annoyed at Clay for always dodging the subject of the tattoo, or for putting her in a position to find out from her father what it said.
Like it mattered.
“Sweetie, you sure you don’t want to come down to the house for dinner?” June asked. “Oysters and asparagus?”
Reese shook her head, not at all interested in sharing an aphrodisiac dinner with her parents. “I appreciate that, Mom, but I really need to be by myself for a bit.”
“Okay, honey. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks for the Popsicles and brownies and wine. Love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetie.”
Both parents kissed her on the cheek before heading out the door hand in hand. Reese watched them walk into the crisp spring evening, their heads bent close together as they made their way toward the house.
Then she closed the door, not feeling much better but not feeling a whole lot worse.
She picked up the wine in one hand and the brownies in the other and stashed both in the kitchen. Returning to the living room, she stared at her bookshelf and tried to decide between rereading her favorite Kristan Higgins romance or her favorite Jennifer Crusie.
She was still staring at the book spines when Axl burst through the front door. His frizzed white hair made him look like a big Q-tip. He yanked off a tattered leather biker bag, knocking his aviator glasses crooked.
“There you are,” Axl barked. “Your mom said you were up here feeling sorry for yourself. You and me, we gotta talk, girlie.”
Reese sighed. “Axl, I don’t really feel like?—”
