Page 25 of No Second Chances

Parker chuckles quietly while Nox tries to explain himself, and Remy grabs something out of the fridge, purposefully staying out of the conversation.

“You know,” Nox goes on with a giant smile on his face while he traces an imaginary path down my arm. “You could get a cool lightning bolt and the clouds around it, and it would be awesome. Like, you know, the sky.”

As he continues to talk about what he thinks I should get as a tattoo and prattles on like it is the absolute best idea that anyone in the entire universe could have, I start to picture it there on my arm. The smooth flash of what lightning actually looks like, with fractured lines and light floating through the air, mixed with clouds and the night sky, it really would look amazing. The kid has a great imagination.

“I think you’re right,” I tell Nox when he finally takes a breath and stops talking. “If you give me my arm back, I’ll let my tattoo artist know and she can design it for me. Then the next time I see you, you can check it out.”

The look on Nox’s face is something I will never forget. Almost like Christmas, his birthday, Halloween, and every other holiday happened to land on the exact same day and I’m the one giving it to him.

“Really?” His voice fades to almost a squeak. “I can’t believe it.” Nox turns to his mom. “Did you hear? She’s gonna get my idea as a tattoo. It’s awesome. I’m awesome.”

“Yeah,” Parker says while pulling him into a hug. “You really are. You’re the most awesome kid in the entire world; did you know that?” She kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair.

“Mooom,” Nox groans as he pulls away from her. “You’re embarrassing me in front of Auntie Kennedy.”

The look of pure outrage on Parker’s face almost has me peeing myself with laughter. In a moment, she flashes between about a dozen different emotions before she finally settles on the look that our mothers used to give us as kids when we were walking the line that led to us getting nothing but healthy food for dinner.

“Run,” I whisper loudly to Nox. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t follow you.”

He runs, and Parker turns her glare on me. “Why’d you let him run away like that?”

Patting her hand like she needs the comfort, I wait for her to calm down before answering.

“Because,” I say slowly. “He’s six. And you’re gonna have to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to grow up eventually. Might as well start now.”

Remy grunts from the other side of the kitchen. “Yeah, right. That kid’s gonna stay little forever.”

“Whatever, big brother.” I smile brightly at him. “Are you speaking from experience? I mean, you are one of the most immature men I know.” Just for good measure, I tilt my head to the side and widen my eyes like saucers.

“Zip it, pipsqueak.” He picks up a can of soda from the counter and opens it, letting the hiss of the carbonation escaping the can fill the air. Then he chugs the entire thing before he burps loudly and sets the can back down. “If you really want to be a jerk, we can start comparing notes on who embarrassed who more. I remember the morning I walked out to find you sneaking out of your room after sleeping with my best friend.”

“Whom,” I correct him.

Both Remy and Parker turn to look at me like I’ve grown a second head.

I can’t help it. My brother has terrible grammar and if I don’t correct him on it, no one will. Parker likes him too much.

“It’s who embarrassed whom more. That’s what you’re trying to talk about.” I shrug when they keep staring. “It’s not my fault you don’t have proper language skills.”

Remy glares at me, and Parker starts laughing like I told the funniest joke in the entire world—which saves me since he turns his glare on her.

“I came to kill time before my appointment.” I look at the clock on my phone. “But now I gotta go get some ink driven into my skin that’s gonna last forever.” With a small wave, I push away from their table and start for the door. “Give Nox a kiss for me. I’m outta here.” I laugh at the fact that I can hear him complaining about my language as I go.

An hour later, I have a bunch of marker drawn onto my arm in a completely unique and hand-drawn image based on what Nox described, and my tattoo artist, Kassy, is getting ready to put the needle to my skin.

Rachel, one of the other artists, shows me a giant jar full of Laffy Taffy, and I smile when she reaches in and hands me a huge handful of the deliciousness.

“These are my absolute favorite,” I tell her conspiratorially. “You’re my favorite person in the entire universe right now.” I know that I’m using the word favorite a lot, but I’m beyond nervous and excited.

When Kassy turns on her tattoo gun, I expect a loud buzzing sound to fill the air. After all, that’s what happens on TV. Instead, it is quiet and almost therapeutic, like a hive of bees ready for spring.

“That is gonna look sick,” Rachel says with a smile. She can’t be any older than forty, with tattoos up and down both her arms and on her legs. In short, Rachel is gorgeous, and her dimples stand out when she smiles.

Kassy’s neon green and black hair falls around her face, giving her a punk rock princess vibe. She looks like someone who’d go with me to a concert and then push through the crowd so that I can stand at the front, which I count as a blessing since I can’t even get people to see me most of the time.

“Do you ever go to the Waterfront?” I ask suddenly. “I could use someone like you when it comes to concerts.”

Kassy laughs while she lays a thin black line on my arm. “Yeah, my partner and I go to concerts there every summer. Why? You wanna go with us sometime?”

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