The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(71)

Pixie lifted her face to the sun, and let it wash over her. “Mmm-hmm.”

They stood in a peaceful silence, until Lia sighed, and Pixie opened one eye in her direction. “Mornings like this, I wish I had someone special to eat breakfast with out here . . . oh wait, that’s pretty insensitive—”

Pixie chuckled. For the first time in days, she could feel bubbles of laughter work their way out, and before she knew it, Lia was laughing with her. She threw her arm around her best friend. “Thank you, Lia.” She gasped between bursts. “I needed that.”

“Glad I could be of service. I gotta go, I’ll see you later. Don’t forget, we have Cujo’s big surprise tonight.”

“How could I forget?” Drea’s surprise for Cujo was to let him tattoo her.

She’d gone to Trent with the idea of booking an appointment under another name, to ask him what he thought. Everyone knew Drea had been pretty anti-ink. But the death of her mom had brought about a huge change in Drea, and now she wanted her boyfriend to tattoo a rose in memorial of Rosa on her shoulder. Cujo was going to freak out in a seriously crazy way when he found out.

“I’ll see you later,” Lia said.

Pixie watched Lia leave and then wandered back into the condo. She set about making breakfast until the phone she’d set on the counter vibrated.

The sight of his name on the screen made her stomach cartwheel. Dred wanted a video call. Pixie wiped her hands on the sides of her jeans and pressed accept, expecting to find Dred, not an adorable little baby snoozing in a little recliner. And expecting to hear Dred, but instead, she could swear . . . yep . . . I’ve heard it said, that people come into our lives for a reason . . . That was most definitely “For Good” from Wicked.

A hand snuck into the shot to hold a card in front of Petal. On it was black messy handwriting.

MY DAD IS STUPID . . .

The card was removed, and another was placed in front of Petal.

SOMETIMES HE ACTS BEFORE THINKING . . .

The process repeated itself, as Petal dozed on.

SOMETIMES HE RUNS INSTEAD OF STAYING . . .

SOMETIMES HE’S SCARED AND DOESN’T KNOW WHY . . .

SOMETIMES HE WISHES HE’D FIND . . .

SOMEONE WHO WOULD LOVE HIM LIKE I DO . . .

I POOP A LOT TO SHOW HIM JUST HOW MUCH! !

Tears started to burn her eyes, but Pixie wiped them away quickly, scared of missing a message. Petal hadn’t moved, clearly still fast asleep in her little pink onesie that said Rock Royalty on the front.

HE’S SORRY HE DIDN’T STAY AND LISTEN . . .

HE’S SORRY HE LEFT YOU ALONE . . .

HE WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOU . . .

BUT HE CAN’T COME TO YOU . . .

BECAUSE OF ME . . .

I DON’T HAVE A PASSPORT . . .

The card held what looked like twenty attempts to take a passport photograph. Pixie laughed through her tears.

SO PLEASE COME SEE US . . .

TOMORROW. . . .

The card was removed but not replaced, just as Elphaba sang about asking for forgiveness for the things she’d done.

“Hey, Snowflake,” Dred said roughly as he the camera panned to his face. “Have you met my daughter, Petal?” He coughed to clear his throat.

Pixie bit her lower lip and breathed deeply. She shook her head and wiped the tears threatening to leak.

Dred looked tired. His hair was tied back off his face. She’d missed the gold flecks in his eyes, missed the way one side of his mouth lifted before the other when he smiled, she’d just all around missed him. He also had a puddle of what looked like spit-up on his shoulder.

“Your daughter’s beautiful,” she managed.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze shifting in Petal’s direction. “She is, isn’t she?” He studied her for a moment, then looked back at the camera. “I’m sorry, Pix. With every part of me, I regret behaving like a complete *. I should have listened and not stormed off like a jerk. You deserved so much more than that. But I’m here, and I want to know. Can you tell me about it?”

Pixie walked over to the couch and sat down. “I was thirteen when Arnie, who is my stepdad, came to live with us. He was a small-time dealer in Pahokee. The trailer was never big enough for the three of us. Slowly but surely, Mom started to use. Recreational at first, but over the course of the year she was using almost daily.” She looked at Dred’s concerned face, wishing they were having this conversation face-to-face. “I was fourteen when he first threatened to kill my mom if I didn’t sit on a stool with my sundress wide open so he could jerk off while looking at me.”

“Fuck,” Dred mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Snowflake. If I’d known, I would have crushed the f*cker where he stood. Did he . . . Shit. Did he . . . sexually assault you?”

Pixie shook her head. “No. And yes. He was a voyeur. And he got off on embarrassing me. He’d make me sit and watch porn with him at fifteen.” The tears came, but it was useless trying to stop them. “Sometimes he’d touch me inappropriately or get me to stand naked and read stories to him. Shit. I’ve had years of therapy, but things still get tangled in my head when I think about it.”

“Tying your wrists?” Dred asked.

“Yeah. He’d do that, but I’d fight sometimes, especially when he invited his friends to watch. One day, he forced me to take two pills. I had no idea what they were, but when they kicked in, I could escape. Nothing mattered. I could slip away from what was happening and pretend I was something or someone all together different. Then next time, he didn’t need to force me to take them. Eventually I started to ask for them. At the time, I thought it was one of the only things I was in control of, but I realized in rehab it was pure addiction.”