Page 19 of Playboy’s Purgatory

She says it with such conviction that my breath hitches. I don’t know what to say for far too long.

“It’s obvious how much she loves you,” the words come out strained, not because they aren’t true but because I’m feeling the weight of just how true they are now.

I can almost picture a scared Lara straightening her spine and deciding to take on a newborn. She didn’t have to and she said her parents helped, but she didn’t leave Vanessa behind and leave to start her life like so many kids do after high school. Instead, she became a mom to the baby who needed her.

If I hadn’t had my head up my ass for so long, I would have admired her for it far sooner.

But I’m starting to see everything clearly now. At least a little bit, which is a start.

I still have questions. Now is not the time to ask them.

Vanessa sits down at a picnic table and pats the seat next to her. I blink a few times, surprised at the way she’s indulging me when she doesn’t have to. When I glance around, pretty much everyone is watching us while pretending like they’re not. Badly.

Diesel is literally peeking out through his fingers while creeping closer. Vanessa glances over and giggles when she sees him. I take the opportunity afforded me and sit.

“It was really brave of you to tell your mom to share all of that,” I hedge, every word filled with hesitation like I’m reaching for something I’m not sure I can carry.

“I like this whole motorcycle club thing you have going on here,” her words are almost dismissive as she makes a motion with her hand to encompass the entire compound.

For a heartbeat nothing happens and then the laughter starts. Slowly at first, but then it gains. Vanessa just looks up at me with sparkling eyes, and I bark out a laugh.

After a moment she lets out a long sigh. “It wasn’t really bravery,” she admits, “I was just tired of seeing you embarrass yourself and have no clue you were even doing it.”

I lean back, putting my elbows on the table behind me. “I really did embarrass myself, huh?”

“So many times,” she says with disappointment and a small pout on her face. She studies me for a second. “What is your angle for even saying sorry? You weren’t sorry when you were being mean and believed Lola.”

I wince and have nothing to fucking say. Nothing.

“Well,” I reach for anything, “first, if I don’t start to put this right, even a little bit, my dad will kick my butt.”

For a moment I think I hear his rumbly chuckle, the sound filled with an ominous warning I’m more than willing to completely ignore. It’s for the best, without a doubt.

“That’s a valid fear, but I don’t really see what’s in it for me,” she counters.

“Are you trying to extort me?” My question comes out affronted.

“It’s possible. Whatcha’ got?” Vanessa bats her eyelashes at me, all sweet sugar.

“I’m just a tattoo artist. I don’t have much to offer a little girl,” I tell her honestly.

“I like coloring books; can you make me one that has me in it doing cool things?” She throws the words out there like they’re nothing.

Everything in me freezes. She’s giving me a way in. It also uses my skill in a meaningful way to start apologizing to Vanessa for being an ass by basically forcing her personal business to be consumed publicly. Her suggestion makes me wonder if there will ever be a way I could make it up to Lara.

Doubtful.

But maybe.

“I can absolutely do that,” my voice is filled with astonishment that she even came up with the idea.

“Cool.” She nods with a small smile on her face. After a moment, she tells me, “You don’t really need to.”

“Oh, you’ve given me a mission, little lady. I’m following through on it.” She nods and looks down. The words are hard, but I force them out. “I know I really messed up. I think I might even know why.”

“You do?” Vanessa looks surprised. Her little eyebrows pull together and she blurts out, “Don’t leave me in suspense. Spill.”

I chuckle under my breath and try to get myself pumped up enough to say the words out loud. To a ten-year-old little girl of all people.