Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.50)

“What do you think?” I held out his arm so Reagan could see, and even though she shot me a look, a smile crossed her face.

“Mom, isn’t it cool?”

“So cool, Parker.”

“I can’t wait to show Jason!” he said excitedly before tearing out of Reagan’s kitchen to go back to playing in the living room.

My lips slowly curved up into a smile as Reagan fought and lost with biting back her own smile, and I pulled her close. “You mad at me?”

She looked up at me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Mad? Are you kidding? I’m furious,” she whispered.

“You look it,” I murmured against her lips and she smiled against my kiss.

“That was really sweet of you,” she said when I pulled back. “He doesn’t even remember they’re called tattoos, but all he talks about are the stars on your arm. They’re the only ones he remembers. This was . . .” she floundered for something to say as she looked over at Parker. “This was fun for him. I already know he’s going to talk about that tattoo, and who gave it to him, until it washes off.” Looking back at me, she shrugged. “Thank you.”

“Not a big deal. He spent the whole night talking about it the other night, had to get one for him.”

Her hazel eyes held mine, and her lips tilted up on one side. “That’s just it. You didn’t have to.”

“Okay, I wanted to. Better?”

“Much.”

I leaned in, and had just barely brushed my lips against hers when we heard, “Ew, you’re kissing a girl?”

Reagan froze, and I held back a laugh as I turned my head to look at Parker. “Yeah, why, do you want me to kiss a boy?”

Parker made a face. “Gross! No! But girls have cooties!”

“Yeah? Says who?”

His mouth opened and his eyebrows pinched together for a few seconds before he sputtered, “Everyone.”

I unwrapped my arms from Reagan, and crouched down so I was his height. “Girls your age do have cooties,” I whispered loudly, and tried so hard not to smile when he nodded quickly. “But you know how I’m old so my stars don’t wash off?” Parker looked at his star, then my tattoos before nodding again. “Well, when you’re this old, girls don’t have cooties anymore. So they’re safe to kiss.”

Parker looked at me like he was trying to memorize eve

ry word I was saying. “How will I know when they’re safe?”

I glanced up at Reagan, and her face fell into a look of horror. “He’s six,” she mouthed.

“Just trust me on this, bud,” I said when I looked back at Parker. “You’ll know.”

“ ’Kay,” he replied, and looked up at Reagan. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re safe, you won’t give Coen cooties.”

My head dropped so he wouldn’t see how hard I was trying not to laugh, but I knew my shoulders were shaking from trying to hold it back.

“Thanks for that, buddy. Why don’t you go wash your hands so we can eat, all right?”

“Okay!”

I straightened, my body still shaking from the laughs I’d been trying so hard to quiet, and Reagan punched my shoulder as soon as I was upright.

“Seriously?”

“Hey! At least I told him the girls his age had cooties.”

A laugh bubbled past her lips before she could contain it, and then her stern expression was back. “But now what if he avoids women until he’s like thirty?”