I’d rather pull my fingernails out with rusty pliers than stand here answering Elizabeth’s personal questions, but how big of a pussy would that make me? She’s sitting across from me butt-ass naked. It scares the shit out of her, but she’s facing her fears. I owe her at least the same in return.

Fuck it. Let’s do this.

I know I’m going to regret the shit out of this, before I even say, “Fine. Ask away.”

She studies me with those chocolate eyes, scrutinizing my body. “Why don’t you have any tattoos?”

I let out a nervous laugh. To be honest, I’m relieved. That kind of personal question I can handle.

“Why don’t you?” I shoot back at her.

“I hate needles.”

“You’re going to make a hell of a doctor one day,” I chide.

“Shut up. I’m afraid to get poked with them. I’ll be fine doing the poking.”

“I know what you mean,” I deadpan.

She throws the dish towel at me with an exasperated, “Ass. Can you ever be serious? It won’t kill you, you know!”

“Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn’t. Why risk it?” I love riling her up. I can tell exactly how much of her blushes when she’s naked.

“Just answer the question, Maverick,” she demands with a cross of her arms and a shake of her head. Maybe it makes me an idiot, but I enjoy that stupid nickname, even when I know she’s using it to be patronizing.

“Sure, Goose. I don’t have tattoos because I don’t give a shit enough about something to have it stare me in the face every day. Don’t do forevers, remember?”

“Not even family?” She waits for a reaction. I don’t give her one. “Your mom?”

“We weren’t close.” My tone is clipped, but Elizabeth keeps going anyway.

“What was she like?” Her voice is gentle and caring, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want to play this fucked-up game anymore.

“What the fuck do you care?” I snap at her.

I shove aside the pan of ground beef I’m browning. It hits the stove’s backsplash with a clang.

It’s been over a decade since my mom died and even longer since the last time I actually saw her. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to forget her. Forget her face, her voice, her smell. Forget all the broken promises. Forget all the nights going to sleep cold, alone and hungry. Forget that she never gave a fuck about me, just her next high. I can’t. That’s the most fucked-up part of all.

I will never forget the woman who never remembered me.

“I care.”

I feel the conviction in Elizabeth’s voice deep in my chest.

“About you.”