“Welcome. There. You’re finished,” she says as she wipes the tattoo and places a bandage over it. “So. Do you guys make a habit of getting tattoos when you lose bets?” she jokes while glancing from me to Jonah.
“I’m hoping not,” I grumble and stand up from the chair, stretching my arms.
“Pity seems like it’d be incredibly lucrative for me,” she teases. She gives me the instructions for tattoo care along with a card in case I have any questions. Wash carefully. Moisturize. Avoid direct sunlight and swimming. I stop her gently when she starts talking about obvious signs of infection.
“This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve had six before this. Thank you though. It looks great,” I comment.
Right before we turn to walk out, she shouts, “Wait! Can I have the card back for one second?”
I hand it back to her, curiosity gnawing at me and watch as she scribbles something on it. “Here’s my cell. In case you get tired of being broody and depressed,” she explains with a gorgeous smile. “Or you lose any more bets.”
I make eye contact with her and hold it for a few seconds, her auburn eyes burning into mine.Fuck. She was funny too. I hate to admit that I’m intrigued.
“Thanks,” I smile.
Once we’re outside, Jonah bumps his shoulder into mine.
“So, you gonna call her?” he questions. “She seems cool, hot too. And those tattoos? Pretty badass,” he observes, rubbing his hands together.
“Yeah, probably not. She seems like the kind of girl you date and that’s not what I’m looking for right now.”
Not when I’m still a mess over Kendall leaving.
“She looks like the kind of girl that'sinterested. And who's to say she’s not into casual hookups?” he challenges.
“Yeah, I guess. We’ll see,” I answer quietly. We make the rest of the brisk walk to the bar in silence, trying to outrun the December chill in the air. As soon as we open the door, I spot our group of loud boisterous teammates taking up three tables in the center. Zeke comes up to me and claps me on the shoulder.
“So, how’d it go, man? You go through with it?” he jests.
I turn around and lift up my shirt showcasing the clean white tattoo bandage. Jonah opens his phone to display the picture he took of the tattoo as proof. A bold black number 32 in the middle of a red heart. Mason, the defenseman’s jersey number.
Chapter 3
Kendall
Wearriveatmusicplaygroup at our local library ten minutes late. I rush in the door, Akio in my arms, in one of Kai’s old threadbare hoodies and black leggings. I could never force myself to get rid of this sweatshirt and no matter how many times I’ve washed it, it still carries the faint scent ofhim. Along with memories I don’t want to think about but can't let go of either. Ms. Candace, the eccentric, overly enthusiastic teacher has already passed out instruments to the kids and their family members. Everyone is staring at us, but we’re used to it by now, having never made it on time to playgroup.
“Oh, come in, come in,” she says, welcoming us and clapping her hands together from her wooden rocking chair. “We were just getting started, Kendall. We’re so happy you and Akio could join us today!”
I head over to the bench and drop our belongings while Akio toddles over to the group. His favorite instrument, the maracas, are clutched in another pair of chubby fists. I watch as Akio’s lower lip begins to tremble. Ms. Candace hands him a chime, which he stares at with disdain. Before this evolves intoa tantrum, I sit down on an unclaimed rug and pull him into my lap.
Shortly after Ms. Candace starts the music, Akio throws the instrument on the floor with a frustrated shout. He then crosses his arms and refuses to participate. He isn’t the only feral two-and-a-half-year-old in the group. Lincoln, bless his heart, is currently licking the carpet in front of him and high energy Ava is running laps around her nanny, while shaking a tambourine above her head. And Maddox has not followed a single instruction that the teacher has given, and appears to be fast approaching a meltdown. To be fair, he is the youngest here. Luckily, Ms. Candace is kindandpatient. She coaxes Akio out of my lap and tells him he can be her special helper for the next song if he uses the chime for the rest of this one. Eventually he comes around.
When the playgroup is finished, Veronica Leonne waltzes over to me, her daughter following close behind her, with what I know is going to be unsolicited advice. Veronica and her atrocious attitude, expensive athleisure outfits, perfectly blown out hair, and Pilates ass is the kind of mom that other moms band together to collectively hate. At least I imagine they would. I wouldn’t know, seeing as how I don’t have many mom friends. Christ, she is the last person I want to talk to right now. She clears her throat to announce her arrival, and it grates on my already frayed nerves.
“You know if you guys made it on time and came to the playgroup more consistently, I’m sure he would be a little better behaved,” she tells me with a sneer, her glacial blue eyes narrowed at me. Somehow I resist the urge to roll my eyes all the way back into my head.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. We just had a busy morning and his schedule was thrown off yesterday. I’m sure that’s part of it.” Wait, why was I explaining myself to this Lululemon bitch,who showed up to playgroup twenty minutes early looking like she just came from a high end salon?
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s hard for you guys, you know, being a single mom and all,” she responds, looking at me with what I think is pity. Fuck her.
“We’re doing just fine.”
“Good. Well, it was nice to see you guys,” she says.
“Uh huh. You too,” I mumble while I pick up Akio and hurry out the door. As we walk to the parking lot, I hear footsteps behind me. I palm the small canister of mace on my keychain just in case.
“Hey Kendall, right?” Maddox’s mom says brightly, shifting him from one hip to the other.
