by Dani René
Prologue
I’d given up a lot in my short life. When I wanted to study art, my parents disagreed with my choice. There wasn’t a living to be made from painting and drawing. That’s what my father told me. Mom didn’t argue, she never did. My parents were the epitome of what I didn’t want from a relationship.
When Dad finally walked out, leaving me and Mom alone, I had no choice but to grow up too soon. Sixteen, head of the household because my mother decided that without a man she was nothing. I cooked, cleaned, made sure that she ate. My dreams of art school diminished when that happened. I dropped out of high school, found a job in an office to pay the bills. Answering phones was easy. You didn’t need a degree to be friendly.
I was happy. Until I walked into a bar one night with a few colleagues. They told me to loosen up. I was an eighteen-year-old girl who never had a beer before. Then I had one too many. The so-called friends left me there to my own devices. My knight in shining armor saved me. Trent Halston.
Those green eyes, that rugged beard, and those tattoos. He put me in his truck, drove me home, and made sure I got in safely. Somewhere along the drive, he’d managed to get hold of my phone, swapping numbers while I giggled and told him about the snobby office women I worked with. The same ones who left me in a bar on my own.
The next day he called to check on me. Make sure I was surviving the hangover. He wasn’t romantic, just sweet. There’s a difference.
That was the end of my innocence. He’d stolen my number, and after that night he made sure to steal my heart. Nothing prepared me for him, for love, for heartbreak. And nothing prepared me for what lay ahead.
Chapter One
Ryn
Rolling over, I groan at the light streaming through the blinds against the bedroom window. The blaring alarm tells me it’s six-thirty in the morning and I know I have to get ready if I’m going to be on time for work.
The heat of the sun warms me, and I push the comforter off so I can bask in the feel of it on my body. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet hitting cold wooden slats, which makes me shiver. Heading into the bathroom, I turn on the shower, watching as the spray slowly steams up the small space. As soon as I’ve stripped down, I step under the deluge that cascades against my skin.
My sleek blonde hair is short, cut to my chin. I keep it that way so it’s easy to wash. I’ve always been more of a tomboy, so I like that fact that I don’t have to spend hours styling it.
Also, it’s easier to pin back when I’m at work. Since Ava and Jag are back together, he’s been giving me more responsibility when it comes to tattooing—
which was always my dream. I’ve taken on my own clients, sketching up ideas and making stencils. Today I’ve got a back piece that is going to take the whole day. I can’t wait, the portrait the client gave me to work with was utter perfection.
The water is hot and the pressure is incredible. I close my eyes, enjoying the massaging pinpricks on my shoulders. Suddenly ice sprays onto my skin, causing me to scream loudly out the bathroom door.
“I’m going to kill you!” A soft giggle comes from down the hallway. Shutting off the taps, I step out, grabbing a towel and wrapping myself in the fluffy pink material.
“Sorry, Mommy!” The voice that I love more than life itself comes from the princess bedroom down the hall. Padding over the wooden floors, I step into her bedroom and pin her with a narrowed glare.
“I’ll get you back for that, Roxie,” I warn, but can’t help smiling at her bright blue eyes. My short blonde hair and cobalt eyes match my daughter’s. Thankfully she looks nothing like her father. The asshole who walked out, leaving us both without so much as a goodbye. When I found out I was pregnant, he packed his bags and left us in the middle of the night. I woke up to a cold bed, and empty apartment.
“I’m ready for school, I just need to brush my teeth.” Her five-year-old self is too old for her age. Independent, sassy, and a pain in the ass. She takes after her mother. At twenty-four I never thought I’d be a single mom, raising my daughter on the paychecks of my full-time tattooing job.
When I told Jagger about Roxanne, he smiled, told me he’d pay me to work mornings and I could leave earlier to collect her at school. When I explained that I needed a full-time salary, he just shrugged.
The first time I received my pay slip, I almost fainted in the store. I felt bad that he’d paid me double what most artists get, never mind the fact that I started out as an apprentice.
I questioned him about it a few times. All he told me was that I should look after myself and Roxie. The man has a heart of gold. I’ve never come across someone who would go out of their way to help a woman on her own like that without wanting something in return.
“I’ll be ready soon. Breakfast first,” I warn, and my little blonde doll nods with a bright smile. I head back to my bedroom to quickly pull on a pair of blue skinny jeans, my signature black skull tank top with a purple bra beneath. My arms are inked from shoulder to wrist. The color, along with black-and-white tattoos that fill my arms, have become my uniform. My piercings are mostly hidden by my hair and clothes.
With one tongue piercing, a few bars through my earlobes and my nipples pierced, most people would shy away from me. Or wonder how a woman who looks like I do raises a child. It’s one of those stereotypical judgments that caused me to get full sleeves done. I wanted to prove to those people that it didn’t matter what you looked like, you could still live a normal life. I’ve learned first-hand to never judge a book by its ink. Even the most beautifully polished covers can be a farce.
Pulling my blonde hair into a hair tie, I head down to have breakfast with my baby. The only thing in my life I’ve ever done right.
Copyright © 2018 by Dani René