Page 4 of The Baby Bargain
She's different. Passionate about things that go way over my head. Math, science, the gender politics of taking your boyfriend's last name.
My stomach twists. This is too familiar. I swear, I can see the ring on Grace's finger. Feel the weight of it. Her palm pressing into mine.I'm sorry, Chase. I can't.
Tears catching on her long lashes. Smudging her dark eyeliner. Rolling down her apple cheeks.
Her red nails digging into her hoodie—red, of course. It was her favorite color. It's still her favorite color.
"Fuck, Chase hates it too?" Holden shakes his head, sending his waves in every direction. He's named after the titular character ofCatcher in the Ryeand he lives to be even more annoying than Holden Caulfield.
"Chase is too nice to say it," Forest says.
Holden looks from his older brother to me. "Chase isn't nice."
"She's your sister." Yeah, I'm an unforgiving asshole. But when I care about someone, I do my best.
It's just that's never been good enough.
My best didn't help Mom keep her shit together. It didn't convince my little brother to get sober. It sure as fuck didn't make Grace happy.
Maybe these guys should do the opposite of my best. That has a better chance of working.
And I—
I need to go somewhere I can breathe. "I should get out of here." I shrug my hoodie off my shoulders. It's too much, too hot. Even with the AC turned up high, I'm melting.
Forest and I play basketball once a week. It's perfect. We don't talk about life or love or work—he's a tattoo artist, same as I am.
We play until we collapse.
No feelings involved.
No chance to hurt another person I care about.
"She shouldn't take his name." Holden hops onto the counter—actually hops—and reaches for the banner. "I shouldn't encourage her."
"Why'd you buy that?" Forest shoots me a lookwhat's wrong with him?
"I need to shower." It's the only excuse that comes to mind.
"Hot date tonight?" Holden raises a brow. "You holding out on me, Keating? You know I like dirt."
Forest rolls his eyesgrow up.
"Something like that." The only hot date I have lately is with my hand. It's not lack of options. Women are interested. Most of my female clients drop hints or leave their number. Sometimes, they flat out proposition me.I don't usually do this, but I feel like I can trust you. Do you want to come to my place tonight?
I never say yes.
My friends consider that a sign of dysfunction. What healthy man declines casual sex?
But it's not like that.
Those women don't want me. They want the idea of some bad boy who put ink to their skin. They think that if they can trust me with their body in the chair, they can trust me with their body anywhere.
They're wrong.
With my tattoo gun in my hands, I know what I'm doing. I'm a master of the fucking universe.
When I set it down—
