“Maybe. Not sure if he deserves to know.”
“Whatever you decide, I'll support your decision.”
Turning in his arms, I look up at him. His features blur as tears fall from my eyes. Even through my emptiness, I find it in me to give him a small smile. Leaning up on my toes, I brush my lips across his in a friendly kiss.
“You're going to make a really great dad, Alek,” I tell him, watching his eyes do a million different things behind them.
I turn toward Amelia, once again reaching over to grab her hand as I spot the result on hers too. “Together, Amelia Shae. We're in this together.”
When she finally looks away from the test and over at me, her eyes are yelling at me.
It seems we’ll be a little bit broken, but at least we’ll be broken together.
A Little Shot of Hope
Keaton | The Past
Thesteadyhumofmy tattoo machine swallows every thought of Charlie as I ink the final lines across my client’s rib cage.
Weeks have crawled by since I bumped into Charlie at the store, but my mind keeps spinning the same damn reel of her clutching that pregnancy test. Every day, I hover over my phone, ready to call and check if she’s alright, if she needs anything—food, chocolate, whatever she might crave. But I always stop myself, haunted by the reminder that I’m the last voice she wants to hear.
Still, I find myself devouring every article and forum about pregnancy, desperate to piece together the world she’s navigating without me.
Charlie may not be mine anymore, but I’ll always be hers. I should have been hers from the start, but I let doubt and temptation win, betraying the heart I cherished most.
No apology can ever erase what I’ve done, but maybe I can claw my way out of the wreckage I created.
And I’m trying.
Some days, I almost convince myself I’m moving forward. Then there are days like this, when the urge to call her digs its claws in, reminding me I’m still the selfish bastard who broke her trust.
It’s how I know there’s still work to be done.
Therapy helps, at least a little. We’ve unearthed the reasons I strayed, but accepting them is a war I’m still waging. Sometimes I barely recognize the man I became after Rianna crashed into my life.
But it’s a start and more than I had seven months ago.
I lift my machine from the living canvas before me, studying the fresh ink. Satisfied, I grab the Green Soap and wipe away the swirl of ink, blood, and plasma pooling atop the new art.
Aside from music drifting through the speakers and the steady buzz of Rune and Bear slinging ink, silence stretches wide between me and my client.
They’re used to my quiet now. I only speak when it matters, and lately, the only person I have words that mean anything for is my Charlie-girl.
“All good?” I ask, letting him view the finished piece in the mirror.
“Fucking bet, Kea,” he says with a wide grin. “I think it’s your best one yet.”
“Glad you like it, man. Let’s wrap it up, then we’ll get you out of here.”
Once he’s set, I send him over to Frankie to wrap up. Call her Frances, and she’ll threaten to take a rusty blade to your balls. The same one she keeps tucked in her boot, and she’s not shy about showing it off.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Frankie and Amelia shared blood because there’s a wildness in both of them.
As I wipe down my station, my thoughts drift to the news my lawyer dropped on me not long ago.
The private investigator my lawyer hired has finally found enough solid evidence against Rianna, so we can move forward with the case.
Now, if only they could actually find her. She’s disappeared, but texts keep coming from random numbers, proof she’s still lurking in the shadows nearby.
