by Ashey, Katie
A relieved look came over Jonathan’s face. “I would argue that Woodstock isn’t exactly a small town, but I usually end up running into someone I know when I go downtown. So, I do get what you’re saying.”
No, you can’t possibly understand what it’s like being the former school slut who got knocked up by the guy who got blown up. From grocery stores to gas stations, I always felt eyes on me. Jonathan was right about us not living in a small town, but Jake’s death had been huge throughout the community. People I’d never heard of were trying to follow me on social media. In the end, I was probably being overly paranoid.
“How about going to Atlanta?” Jonathan suggested.
“Yes! That would be awesome.”
“We could do some of the touristy shit.”
I laughed. “Like Skywheel or the aquarium?”
“Totally. And then I could take you back to my dorm.”
Holy shit. Did he actually say that? At the mention of his dorm, the air around us deflated like popping a balloon. “Uh, yeah, sure. That could be cool.”
Wincing, Jonathan jerked a hand through his hair. “Jesus, that did not come out right.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I sounded like a major sleaze.”
“You know, I think it would be cool to see where you live. After all, it’s where Noah lives too, right?”
“At least until the end of the semester. I’ve decided to get an apartment off campus with two of my football buddies.”
For some reason, the idea of him not being in the dorms was a little unsettling. Maybe because there were rules and regulations to follow while living in school housing. If he was in an apartment, he was free to do God knows what…or to do whom.
That’s none of your business, Presley.
“Right. Well, I’ll go and let you get ready,” Jonathan said.
“Thanks.”
When the door closed behind him, my breath whooshed out of me. Glancing at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I slowly shook my head. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to wear. Part of me wanted to wear something young and stylish, but I hadn’t really bought anything new since having Evie. Actually, it was more like since I’d discovered I was pregnant.
At the same time, I didn’t want to wear anything too sexy because I didn’t want to lead Jonathan on.
Or did I?
No, no, no! I did not want to lead him on. I didn’t want to appear the least bit sexy to him or any guy for that matter. I was over giving and giving myself to a guy not to have it returned. I was a mother now, and within the next year, I was going to be a college student. Right now was about me and Evie.
* * *
After wracking my brain about what to wear, I eventually decided on a pair of jeans I’d recently been able to get back into. I’d paired it with some Uggs and a long-sleeved blue shirt that was semi-casual. On the way into the city, Jonathan and I talked about our usual subject of conversation: Evie. Even though Evelyn had probably told him how I was struggling emotionally, he didn’t bring it up, which was a good thing. I didn’t want to go into it with him. Sure, he was a good listener and I knew he sincerely cared about how I was doing, but I just didn’t want to become that emotionally raw in front of him. At least not tonight.
After we’d got to Atlanta, we parked in a lot near Centennial Park. We started walking along the sidewalk to the Skywheel. I glanced over at a storefront and then froze. “What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked.
Pointing, I said, “Look. It’s a tattoo place.”
He glanced from me to the window. “And?”
“Remember in the hospital I told you I wanted to get one?” When he nodded, I said, “So why not tonight?”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re serious?”
“About the tattoo or doing it tonight?”
“Both.”
Laughing, I replied, “I’m dead serious. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He shrugged. “Nothing I guess.”
When he still didn’t look convinced, I countered, “Seriously, this looks like a reputable, high-end kind of place where I won’t have to worry about getting an infection or botched work.”
“Yeah, a bunch of the guys from the team have gotten work here.” He sighed. “It just seems like a very spontaneous thing to do for someone who hasn’t been very spontaneous lately.”
I furiously nodded my head. “That’s exactly why I want to do it. I might be the new Presley, but I’m not dead. I’m still young and somewhat wild.”
Chuckling, he replied, “Fine. Let’s go.”
With a squeal, I hustled across the sidewalk to the door. After Jonathan opened it for me, I stepped inside.
A heavily inked guy with ear gauges stepped out of the back to greet us. “Welcome to Primal Ink. What can I do for you?”
“I want to get another tattoo.”
His pieced brows shot up. “Another?”
“Yeah, I had my ankle done last year.”
“It must’ve been some artist who didn’t care if he lost his license for inking some underage chick,” he remarked.
“My mom took me.”
Smirking, he replied, “She sounds like a badass mom.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
“Right. Let’s go over a few ground rules before I get your license and you fill out the paperwork.”
“Okay.”
“You’re not under the influence of drugs or alcohol, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Since you’re female, I have to ask if you’re not pregnant or breastfeeding?”
Oh shit. I hadn’t even stopped to think the fact I was nursing would keep me from a tattoo. In my momentary stupor, Jonathan rushed forward before I could. “She is.”
As I stared open-mouthed at him, the guy asked, “She’s which one? Pregnant or breastfeeding?”
Before Jonathan could open his big, fat mouth again, I jabbed him in the ribs. “Oomph!” he muttered.
Turning back to the guy, I said, “Actually, I’m breastfeeding.”
Surprise momentarily entered his eyes before he shook his head. “Sorry, we don’t ink breastfeeding women.”
Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking it would be an issue. I just wanted to get something for her.”
“It’s all good. When my son was born, my wife was all into that La Leechers—”
“La Leche?”
“Yeah, that. Anyway, they told her to wait about nine to twelve months when Jaden wasn’t solely existing on breast milk. How old is your baby?”
“Almost four months.”
“Then come back to see us in six to eight months, and I’ll personally do something tight for your baby girl.”
With a weak smile, I replied, “Thanks.”
Ducking my head, I power walked out of the parlor. Jonathan was close on my heels. “Thanks for knocking the crap out of me,” he teased as we got out onto the sidewalk.”
“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I was perfectly capable of answering the question,” I snapped.
“Ouch. What’s up with the attitude?”
Ignoring him, I continued walking up the sidewalk to the Skywheel. “Presley, wait,” Jonathan called. When he once again rejoined my side, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Hot tears began zig-zagging down my cheeks. “I’m a horrible mother.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. I didn’t even stop to think that getting a tattoo could hurt Evie.”
“Neither did I,” Jonathan protested.
“You’re not her mother.”
He winced. “I know. I just meant I didn’t think there could be anything bad with it either. It’s not like you were getting one on your boob.” Cocking his head at me, he added, “Were you?”
I snorted. “God no.”
“Then I don’t kno
w why it would be an issue.”
“I guess it’s about getting in your blood stream or something.” I swiped my eyes. “Jesus, I’m planning on going into nursing, and it still didn’t cross my mind.”
Jonathan grabbed me by the shoulders. “Stop beating yourself up.”
His touch was electric, and with the chill in the air, his warm hands felt good against my skin. It made me momentarily forget all about screwing up as a mother. Although it was totally out of nowhere, I wanted to lean into him—to feel his arms wrapped around me. I wanted to rest my head against his pec while he ran his hands over my back in comforting circles. I needed him to strengthen me. It wasn’t entirely sexual. It was a brief moment of absolute intimacy I hadn’t experienced with anyone else.
Not even Jake.
Staring into my eyes, Jonathan said, “I think you could use a drink.”
Giggling, I replied, “It’s another thing breastfeeding is a buzz kill about. No alcohol.”
“You could pump and dump.”
My mouth dropped open. “How do you know about that?”
Adorable red patches popped out along the tops of his cheeks. “I’ve been reading.”
“Jonathan Nelson, you are truly amazing.”
The corners of his lips quirked up. “You think so?”
“Oh, I know so. I mean, how many twenty-one-year-olds would take out a weepy post-partum chick, not to mention become a baby and early motherhood expert.”
“I don’t know how much of an expert I am. I just wanted to know as much as I could, so I could be a help.”
“You’re totally a help.”
“Good. Instead of some alcohol, why don’t I buy you a coffee, which you can still pump and dump in case you think it might keep Evie awake.”
Grinning I replied, “Now you’re just showing off.”
Chapter Seventeen: Jonathan
As we entered the coffee shop, a welcoming blast of heat blew into our faces. After taking our place in the epically long line, a question continued burning in my mind. Turning to Presley, I asked, “If you could’ve gotten the tattoo, what would you have done for Jake?”
She blinked at me in confusion. “For Jake?”
“In the hospital, you mentioned you want to do something for him and for Evie.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten all about that.” Did that mean she didn’t have feelings for Jake anymore? Shaking her head, she replied, “When I can get one, I think I’ll keep it to just Evie.”
Internally, I did a fist bump, which then made me feel like a total bastard. What the hell was wrong with me that I was glad Presley didn’t want to memorialize my dead brother on her body? He was the father of her child for fuck’s sake. They’d had an off and on again relationship for years. While he might not have reciprocated, she had loved him.
“Are you planning on any new ink?” Presley asked.
“I want to do something for Evie too.”
Her face brightened. “Like what?”
Even though I’d given it a lot of thought, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe her name over my heart.”
Presley’s blue eyes widened. “You’d really put it there?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s just you might have kids of your own one day and want their names there.”
“I can just put them below hers.” Winking, I said, “I have a pretty big pec.”
Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”
“It’s true.”
Tilting her chin at me, Presley said, “While I think it’s so beautiful you want to put her name over your heart, are you not worried about it turning off potential women?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like maybe you’re in the heat of the moment and then they see some other chick’s name over your heart.” She wrinkled her nose. “I would think that would be a buzz kill.”
“That’s their problem. If they want to ask and get the truth, I’ll be happy to tell them. And any woman who has an issue with Evie’s name being there can just get the fuck out.”
Presley gasped. “You’d seriously tell them that?”
“Hell yes.”
Slowly, she shook her head. “Poor Evie.”
“Excuse me?” I demanded.
A smile quirked on her lips. “With this level of devotion at only three months, she doesn’t stand a chance of ever getting a boyfriend, does she?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Nope. Not a chance.”
We reached the front of the line. A frat-boy looking barista focused his gaze on Presley. “What can I get you?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He hadn’t asked what we wanted. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at me. His leering gaze only focused on Presley, and more specifically, the way her tits looked in her top.
To my surprise, Presley seemed completely oblivious to the guy’s stare. “I’ll have a venti iced mocha,” she replied without glancing up from her phone.
“Got it. Anything else?”
As Presley shook her head, I answered, “Yeah, I’ll take a venti cappuccino.”
The douche didn’t even bother looking at me. He still kept staring at Presley. “That’ll be seven thirty-five.”
When I started to hand him my debit card, Presley protested. “No, let me get this one.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m serious. It’s my treat.”
The Barista Bastard had the nerve to wink at Presley. “Aren’t you sweet?”
With a smile, she handed over her card. “I have my moments.”
“Nah, I bet you’re sweet all the time.”
He must’ve felt the heat of my glare because he ducked his head and rang up our order. After handing the card back, he said, “Your drinks will be right up, Presley.”
“Thanks,” she replied.
As we waited on our drinks, I leaned over and whispered in Presley’s ear. “He was totally checking you out.”
Presley’s blonde brows creased. “Who?”
“Jesus, are you blind?”
“Apparently so,” she countered.
With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “The barista.”
Presley laughed. “He was just being nice.”
“No, he was totally eye-fucking you.”
She gasped. “Excuse me?”
“Come on. He could barely take your order for ogling your tits.”
Her eyes bulged. “Jonathan!”
“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
Surprisingly, she self-consciously tugged at the neckline of her shirt. Considering how she’d been cooped up in the house, I would’ve thought she would appreciate the attention. Then it hit me. Since it had been so long since she’d been out on a date, maybe she wasn’t feeling like she was on her A-game. Maybe she thought she wasn’t as pretty as she was before she gave birth, which was really a stupid thought. To me, she was even prettier. She’d gone from hot as fuck to . . . hot with softness. And that totally sounded wrong and didn’t make sense. Yet, it was her. She was just . . . softer. She’d always been so sarcastic and sassy, and not always in a good way. With Evie, she was a natural. So warm, kind, intuitive. And . . . soft. She was beautiful. I shook my head. I wasn’t allowed to think of her like that.
To boost her confidence, I said. “I’m positive you could score his number.”
“That’s okay. I’m good.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Huh,” I murmured. After swallowing down a sip of scalding coffee, I couldn’t help needing more answers. “Why don’t you want his number?”
Presley’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Like, besides the fact I just gave birth four months ago?”
Right. There was that fact. “So, you gave birth. You’re not dead.”
“Whatever.”
“What, is he not your type or something?”
She pinned me with a hard look. “He’s ridiculously good-looking and incredibly cocky. I’d sa
y that more than qualifies him to be my type.”
Her comment at a comparison between the barista and Jake wasn’t lost on me. “Regardless of how old Evie is, I just thought you might want to go out on a date with an interested dude.”
“I never pegged you for stupid.”
“I’m not.”
“Then surely you know as well as I do the minute that guy realized I had a kid, he would be running for the hills.”
As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. Most guys were sex-obsessed, commitment phobic pricks. At least until they were in their mid-twenties. What were the odds that Mr. Cocky Barista was interested in more than hooking up?
Grimacing, I replied, “I’m sorry, Pres.”
“It’s okay.”
“What can I say? Men are douchebags.”
“I’m well aware of that. It’s the main reason why I’m done with dating.”
I choked on the sip of coffee I’d taken. “You’re what?”
“I’ve given up on dating.”
“Yeah, I thought I heard that. But what does that mean?”
“Duh, I’m not going out anymore.”
“Like ever?”
Presley shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know for now and the foreseeable future I’m done.”
An ache burned its way through my chest, which I wanted to blame on reflux from the coffee. But I knew it went deeper than that. The idea of Presley giving up on dating was fucking unnerving. It meant that even the small possibly of something between us was gone.
Shifting in my seat, I tried to find a way to make light of the subject. “If you’re not dating, are you going to join a convent?”
Rolling her eyes, Presley countered, “People can live perfectly happy lives being celibate.”
“While I’m sure they live, I’m not sure just how happy they actually are not having sex.”
“That’s such a guy thing to say.” With a grin, she added, “It’s such a Jake thing to say.”
I laughed. “Yeah, the old Jake for sure.”
“Look, it’s not like I expected a guy like you to understand my decision.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“For starters, you don’t have any repercussions from welcoming the horde of attention girls throw at you.”