Page 123 of The Bronze Garza
“No, I don’t mind,” he replies. “But I also don’t know what it means.”
I frown. “So you just got a tattoo for the fun of it?”
After several beats, he says, “On the day my father died, he took me and my brothers to the tattoo parlor. It was his birthday, and he insisted that for his gift, he wanted us to get ‘bonding’ tattoos. Don’t know if you know this, but he was a big-time professional poker player. A C-list celebrity. A card pack was everything to him, so he chose what we each would get. Trent, ace of spades. Tripp, ace of hearts. True, ace of clubs. And me, ace of diamonds.
“When we asked him how he decided what symbol we each got, he said he would speak to us individually about why he thought each symbol represented us best. But later that day, he had a heart-attack. So I never did find out why he thought I was an ace of diamonds.”
“Wow, I-I’m so sorry,” I say, wanting to punch myself. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s all right,” he assures me, his arms tightening around me. “We lost him that day, but when I think of that day I don’t feel sadness, because we had such a great day together. All of us. And I’m glad we got the tats, ‘cause having it feels like having him with me.”
“That’s really beautiful. That you all had a great last day with him,” I murmur. “I’ll try not to ask anymore probing questions.”
“I don’t think you can help yourself.”
I snicker. “That’s why I said ‘try’, not ‘promise.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Still sightly nauseous,” I lie.
“I think it’s gonna work,” he mumbles into my hair.
Ithas,you surprisingly thoughtful and benevolent bronze god. “You think you’re better than all those top-rated food psychologists, huh?”
“No, but some misinformed part of your psyche is convinced I’m a hero, so...”—He jerks with a shrug—“wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Ah, so you want to be a hero only when it suits.”
Silence for a long time, then quietly, he says, “I only want to beyourhero.”
This time, as warmth rolls in waves under my skin, I can’t fight my heady grin.Torin Garza, my hero.
“What do you want, Lyra?” he asks after a while.
On a sigh, I answer honestly, “For you to care that our time will come to an end tomorrow.”
“Is that why you were upset with me earlier?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think I don’t care?”
“I don’t know. It just…it just feels like you don’t.”
He glides his right hand along mine and lace our fingers together. “Do you know that, in almost ten years, this is the longest I’ve ever been so…static?” he says. “I haven’t had a vacation in years.”
“I’m sorry for ruining it.”
“You haven’t. To be honest, I probably would’ve gotten restless after a week and went back to work,” he confesses. “I’m just telling you this so you understand what my life is like. My family will tell you how often theydon’tsee me. I take jobs that keep me away for up to months at a time—in your case it was well over a year. I’m wi—”
“I get it,” I interrupt when I realize what he’s doing. He’s trying to let me down easy. But I’d rather throw up everything I just ate and suffer hours of nausea than feel what those words would do to me. “You’re not a relationship man. It’s painfully obvious, so I wasn’t expecting that from you. Maybe if I was still a dreamer I’d have conjured up unrealistic fantasies of a happily ever after with you. But I’m not anymore. I just...I guess I just wanted to know that the past couple of days meant something to you. Because it meant a whole lot to me.”
He brushes his thumb back and forth over mine. “It does.”
“Thank you.” With a satisfied sigh, I relax into his chest. “For making me feel alive again.”
Emitting a deep sigh of his own, he drops his chin to my shoulder. Nuzzles my hair.
