Page 93 of Love Me Reckless

At the house, we unload the mattress first, passing by Sofie unpacking a box in the kitchen. “There’s fresh coffee and I picked up donuts,” she says with a bright smile. In her hands is one of Kirilee’s bowls. Her style is impossible to miss. She likes bright colors—turquoise, cobalt, crimson, and on each of her mugs and bowls is a pronounced lip, like she’s inviting the user to linger there.

I think about that kiss in my truck. What would have happened if we had more time?

When I cruise through the kitchen for a pit stop, before I pour my coffee, I take a peek at the underside of the mug. Sure enough, the bottom is imprinted withCrafted byKirileearching over the bird.

“Something wrong?” Sofie asks, looking over her shoulder.

I swallow the tight lump forming in my throat. “Nah.”

“Kirilee gave those to us for a housewarming present.”

Zach comes in and wraps his arms around Sofie from behind and sighs into her hair. “Coffee tastes betterin her mugs.”

“Made with love,” Sofie replies with a laugh, hugging Zach’s arms closer to her. “A difference you can taste.”

I think back to that question Kirilee posed in the tattoo shop.Have you ever been in love?

I knew the answer then, just like I know it now.

Is that why this already hurts so much?

Chapter Twenty-Two

KIRILEE

When I emergefrom the dressing room, Mom and Grandma Dora must have heard the swishing of taffeta because they are both on their feet, watching with eager expressions.

Mom gasps, her eyes misting. “Oh, Kirilee.”

The saleswoman has fluffed my train so it trails behind me. Walking feels awkward. Like I’m dragging an anchor.

Grandma Dora beams, her sparkling green eyes so full of love. “What did I say? Beautiful head to toe.”

Mom gasps again, her shoulders tensing. “What is…?” She rushes across the floor and turns me sideways. “Kirilee? What is this?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

Mom lifts my arm at the elbow to peer at my tattoo, her grip surprisingly firm. “Please tell me this is temporary.”

“It isn’t.” I hold in the rest because I was about to say “I’m sorry” when that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

“Dear Lord,” Mom says, her tone biting. “Why would you do this?”

She yanks at the edge of the dress like she wants to get at the rest of the design, baring my left breast to the world.

“Mom, please.” I try to shrink back from her. I don’t like her touching me like this, exposing me like this. I feel like I’m nine years old again when she used to hook her index finger into my waistband to check if my shorts were too tight.

“This is a disaster,” Mom says.

Cold needles dance over my skin and sink down my spine.

“Molly,” Grandma Dora says. Her voice is kind, but there’s an edge to it.

Mom shoots my grandma an icy glare. But at least she lets me go.

“What were you thinking?” Mom asks me. “Everyone is going to see it.”

I remember Sawyer’s words.Good thing you didn’t do it to please them. This gives me strength. “I know.”

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