“You would because continuing to let this come between us means my abusers are still winning.” I straighten up. “They took enough from me. It ends completely right now. You’re my brother. I love you.” I almost choke over the lump wedged in my throat. “And I choose to forgive you.”
Kade grabs me into a hug, and my arms go around him. “I love you too,” he says. His body trembles as much as mine, which is how I know he is feeling this as deeply as I am. We hug it out for a few minutes, like a couple of pussies, and I just know the women have their noses pressed to the window, watching this go down. When we break apart, we’re both clearly emotional. “I’m not worthy of your forgiveness”—Kade clamps a hand on my shoulder—“but I will accept it if you can accept my apology for failing you. I promise I won’t let you down again. If you need me, for anything, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, man. That means a lot.”
“So, we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
We grin at each other for a few seconds, like idiots, and the last bit of tension that was clinging to me from the past flutters away in the light summertime breeze.
“Come on.” Kade squeezes my shoulder as I pop the trunk on the car. “We’d better head inside. Eva probably has dinner ready to be served.”
12
PRESLEY
“Iwant a tattoo.” Shania pouts as she climbs into her booster seat in the back of my SUV. “It’s not fair. Daddy already has squillions. I wantone. Just one teeny tiny tattoo.” Her gaze bounces between Kent and me. “No one will know. You can hide it where nobody will see it.” Her eyes widen as if a light bulb has just gone off in her head. She bounces on her seat. “I’ll get Eliot’s name on my hip, like you have Dad’s on yours! Then we’ll match, Mom!”
Kent smothers his laughter with a fake cough.
She places her palms together, lifting her joined hands up and pinning us with doe eyes. “Puh-lease, Mommy. Puh-lease, Daddy.”
I exchange a knowing look with my husband over the hood of the car before sliding behind the wheel. This is Shania’s most persistent argument, but she’s particularly frustrated today because Kent stupidly let it slip he’s coming by the studio, later on, for more ink. “If no one will see it, what is the point?” I ask, glancing back at her as I power up the engine.
“I’ll know. That’s the point.” Her lower lip juts out as she eyeballs me with stubborn determination. God help us when she’s a teenager. I already know she’s going to give us hell. I see what Lana and Kalvin are going through with Hewson. Milly is putting Kade and Eva through the wringer over boys and dating, and Faye and Kyler and Brad and Rachel are all dealing with tween hormones and attitudes. Fun times ahead!
Kent chuckles as he closes the door to the back seat, popping his head through the open window. “If you want a tattoo when you’re eighteen, you can have one. Hundreds of them, if you like. But until then, it’s temporary tattoos for my princess.” He tweaks her nose, and she angrily swats his hand away.
“It’s not fair. Uncle Austen said Eliot can have a tattoo when he’s sixteen.”
“That’s not true.” I eye my daughter through the mirror. “Eliot will have to wait until he’s eighteen too.” Eliot has a vivid imagination and fanciful notions. I am pretty sure he’s the one who put this idea in our seven-year-old’s head. I know for a fact that Austen and Keaton have had similar conversations with their son. It’s kind of funny when you consider Austen started getting tattoos at sixteen. I’m sure, when it comes down to it, if the kids are mature enough and they want ink at sixteen or seventeen, we’ll most likely relent, but it would be unwise to mention that now.
The four of us have agreed this is the party line, and we’re sticking to it.
“Tattoos are for grown-ups, and you are still my li’l princess. Enjoy being a kid, and stop trying to grow up too fast,” Kent says, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She tries to pull away, but he’s not having it, holding her face in his large palms and pressing a succession of wet kisses all over her face.
“Daddy, stop!” She giggles, incapable of staying mad at him for long. “You’re slobbering all over me like a dog!”
Oh no. Here we go.
“If I can’t have a tattoo, can I have a dog?”
“We told you we’re thinking about that.” Kent semi-lies because we have already decided to buy her a puppy for her next birthday.
“You need to prove you can be a really good girl if you want a puppy. They are a big responsibility,” I say.
“I’m responsible.” She sits up straighter. “I’ll do all the work. You and Daddy won’t have to do a thing!”
Yeah right. I know exactly how this will go down. But I don’t mind. We have a large garden on the grounds of our ginormous house, money to take care of a dog, and plenty of love to go around.
Kent smiles adoringly at her. Shania has him wrapped around her little finger, and the two of them are thick as thieves. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, like always, when I watch my husband with our daughter. Their heads are pressed together now, and they’re whispering secrets.
I wish we had been able to conceive again, but it hasn’t happened. At least not yet. With my issues, it’s a miracle I got pregnant with Shania at all, and I count my blessings. We don’t use contraception, and I’m only thirty-five, so it could still happen. We have discussed adoption too, and if I don’t conceive in the next year or two, we will probably pursue that avenue.
Or maybe surrogacy, like Austen and Keaton did with Lia.
“Okay, Daddy needs to leave, or he’ll be late for work.” Nuzzling his nose into Shania’s dark hair, Kent dusts kisses over her head before stepping away from the window. “Have a good day at Nanny and Grandad’s. Love you, princess.”
