Page 54 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
“Maybe another day, kiddo,” she says.
Dylan gives a groan. “Ugh. I hate going home. I’d live in the park, if I could.”
She hooks an arm around his neck. “Then you’d end up very cold and sleeping on a bench.”
We all laugh, and something inside me warms. I’d not had a bad childhood, but my parents were nothing like Holly. They’d been—and still are—pretty uptight, a strange formality existing between us at all times. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them show any kind of affection towards each other, and joking and messing around as a family never existed. Maybe that’s why I’d gone off the rails so rapidly once I’d discovered my freedom as a teenager?
But being with this little family makes me see how different things could be. We’re easygoing and happy, and I’m starting to think I could definitely get used to this way of life.
15
HOLLY
For the first time in many years, I’m happy.
We fall into an easy routine. Mike still has Dylan every other weekend and so far has stuck to our arrangement, giving Kane and me some time together, which generally consists of us eating, drinking, and having crazy sex all over the house. Then, on the alternating weekends, the three of us spend what feels like family time together. We go to the park or the cinema, eat out together or cook meals at home. Dylan has gotten used to seeing Kane kissing me, or for us to be sitting on the couch, with my feet in his lap.
I love those weekends as much as I love the ones where it’s just the two of us.
Kane hadn’t spent this weekend with me, however, which is unusual for him. He often stays right until Monday morning, where he leaves for work at the same time I’m leaving to take Dylan to school, and then head into work myself. This weekend, he’s gone to a tattooist convention in Manchester. I’m not going to pretend I haven’t missed him, but we both still need to have our lives outside of each other, even if it’s only for one weekend. A part of me had been tempted to ask if I could swap my weekend to have Dylan with Mike, but he’d been good withsticking to the schedule lately, and I didn’t want to do anything to mess things up.
I enjoyed my weekend alone in the end. I spent hours reading in the bath and called my sister for the first time in too long. Saturday evening had been a couple of glasses of wine in front of a romance film I knew Kane would never have watched, but I did miss his strong, hot body when I climbed into bed. Sunday morning hadn’t been much fun either—lying in bed until late and cooking a hot breakfast isn’t as satisfying when you’re on your own.
So I’m happy when the front door cracks open at exactly six PM, and my son barges into the house, Mike following close behind.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I call to Dylan, but don’t get any answer.
The boy pushes past me and stomps his way up the stairs. I flinch as his bedroom door slams shut.
Mike stands in the entrance hall, his face like thunder.
“Uh-oh,” I say, assuming they’d fallen out about something. “What’s happened?”
Mike glares at me, and my stomach sinks. “Why the fuck is my son telling me he wants to get a tattoo when he’s older?”
My stomach sinks. “What?”
“Yeah. He’s being going on all weekend about all the cool tattoos your new delinquent boyfriend has and how he wants to be just like him. You can’t date someone like that, Holly. He’s a bad influence. What next? Is Dylan going to come home saying he wants to take drugs or that he’s going to rob a bank when he grows up?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, for goodness sake, Mike. Don’t be so ridiculous. Kane is a good guy.”
“I’m not being ridiculous. I don’t want you seeing him again.”
I bark laughter. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t see.”
He folds his arms and glares at me. “I can if I believe you’re putting my son at risk. You’re aware this guy you’re seeing has a criminal record?”
My blood freezes in my veins. “So? It’s from years ago when he was younger. He got caught up with a bad crowd, that’s all.”
Mike’s eyes widen. “Youknewhe had criminal record, and you’re still exposing our son to him? You’re starting to make me wonder if Child Protective Services should be involved.”
Rage tears through me. “Don’t you dare threaten me with that,” I spit, jabbing my finger at him. “After everything you did, sleeping with girls practically young enough to be your daughter! You don’t get to say the people I choose to be with aren’t suitable.”
His eyes narrow. “We’ll see about that.”
“Stop fighting!” Dylan’s shout breaks through our argument. I glance up to see he’s emerged from his room and is now standing at the top of the stairs. “I hate it when you fight!”
“We weren’t fighting, sweetie.”
