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Twenty-two a day.
“Because he’s your best friend.”
Dad shrugged.
“Not anymore.”
“Why won’t you just talk to Ash himself? I get why he won’t talk to me, but if you called him, I’m sure he’d talk to you.”
My phone buzzed in my purse that was shoved into the corner of my chair, but I ignored it while Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I spit.
Dad’s eyes lifted to mine at the vehemence in my voice.
“It’s too late to fix things.” He sounded regretful, and that was all I needed.
“Don’t be a pussy, Dad. Get his number from whoever you were talking to and talk to him. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t. You’ve already waited two years too long.”
“I’m still pissed at him.”
“I’m sure you’re still pissed at me, but we can still sit and have a conversation. You can manage that with him, too.”
“He’s not my child.” The look he gave me was like the chastening expression he gave me when I did something dumb as a kid.
“More like a little brother. He grew up with you in the Marines, Dad. Don’t be like that. Semper Fi.”
Dad sighed and reached for his phone, scanning through a few numbers before he texted in what looked like two letters.
“There. I texted him.”
Holy shit, Dad had his number in his phone? And I’d completely missed it when I’d been in there?
“Good,” I told him, feeling my chest heat with familiar old anger and agony as his phone buzzed with a response.
Dad smiled at it, but left it sitting there face up where we could both see the words written across the screen. God those words ripped into my chest, knowing they were from him.
Ash: Missed you too, asshole.
Chapter 23
Ashton
“We finishing up your piece?” the tattoo artist asked as I bustled into the shop out of the midsummer sun.
Florida was fucking hot, and sticky and gross, but it was absolutely beautiful. If you could avoid the bugs and gaters, that is.
“Yeah, let’s finish it up.”
He knew what I wanted. We’d already drawn up the piece spanning my left side and ribs. The linework had been put in already, so there was just some color filling left to do.
“Alright, take a seat and get your shirt off, I’ll be back in a few.”
While my tattooist went off to get his inks ready, I sat my ass down on the rather comfortable chair and took off my t-shirt to wait.
Ian, the artist I went to, had liked the design I’d suggested, but he had no idea of why I wanted it. The incredible depiction of the Norse Goddess Freya inked into my side was an incredible work, but it meant so much more to me than that.
