Page 19 of Comeback
I scratch the side of my nose with my middle finger, making Brogan’s lips pull into a smile. He turns back to the kitchen, leaving me with a clueless-looking Sabrina.
“Do you want to watch TV?” I ask, since the other ideas I had would likely get my ass kicked. I’m not sure which one is scarier: Brogan or Sabrina. I doubt either would like my ideas. I don’t even like my ideas.
I don’t trust her and I’m still mad about how she left without a word to Brogan.
“Sure,” she says and follows me into the living room. I take a seat on one end of the couch, and she sits all the way at the other end like she doesn’t want to be near me either.
I turn on the TV and then turn to her. “What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t care.”
She’s being agreeable. Too agreeable, but whatever. I leave it on ESPN. A few minutes later, I glance over and she’s noteven looking at the screen. She’s staring down at her phone. I shouldn’t care. She’s only over here sitting with me because Brogan forced her out of the kitchen, but for some reason I find myself asking, “What’s your favorite TV show?”
She glances up, then thinks for a minute. “I don’t really watch that much TV.”
“Last show you watched?”
“Ariel,” she says, then smiles. Sabrina smiling for real is a dangerous thing. That dimple on the left side of her mouth pops out and her dark brown eyes swirl with warmth. “It’s a Disney show based on The Little Mermaid. Olivia’s daughter Greer picked out most of the things we watched.”
“Olivia is the friend you were crashing with?”
She nods. “Yeah. We work together at Lilac Lounge.”
I file away every little piece of information about Sabrina like I’m preparing for war. Admittedly she seems sincere in wanting to get to know Brogan and she hasn’t tried to take money off him or anything like that, but she disappeared on him once already.
I glance over my shoulder. London and Brogan are laughing and talking in the kitchen, completely oblivious to anything or anyone else right now.
“Why did you leave?” I ask. Maybe if she explains it, I can stop worrying about her doing it again.
She’s quiet, but the response in her body language is immediate. The friendly smile on her face melts away and she tenses.
“Last winter when you and Brogan were just starting to get to know each other, you up and left without so much as a goodbye to him. He played it off like it was fine, but it wasn’tfine.”
“I didn’t want to leave,” she says, artfully dodging my question.
“It isn’t even just that you left,” I say. “You blew into his life out of nowhere and demanded to meet him. For monthsyou were texting him, sending letters, tracking him down so you could be in his life and then when you got what you wanted…poof, you’re gone. He’s been through?—”
“I know,” she cuts me off. “I get it. I messed up. I wasn’t thinking about anything at the time.”
“Obviously. Maybe you don’t know how family works, but you don’t just duck out whenever you want. He cares about you. Your actions impact him now.”
Sabrina squeezes her eyes shut and her chest rises and falls with a deep breath. When she opens them, her gaze meets mine. “I know how family works. I may not have had a relationship with Brogan for long, but I care about him too. I’m doing my best to make up for that now. I’m here, aren’t I?”
I work my jaw back and forth. She’s here, but for how long?
7
SABRINA
The first couple days living in my new apartment are surreal. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around the guys on the rare occasions we’re home at the same time. Which isn’t that often. They have practice and meetings at the stadium during the day and I head to work in the evenings. London works from home a lot, but other than her getting up for coffee breaks or to make lunch, the apartment is quiet with just the two of us home.
I know it’s only temporary, but I couldn’t have picked a better location. Work is a five-minute drive and there are lots of buildings within a fifteen-block radius that have office spaces for lease. Which is where I’m headed this morning.
The guys are home, judging by the music playing in Archer’s room. Anytime he’s home and awake, the floors vibrate with the bass coming from his big speakers.
I turn off my alarm and head out of my room, still blurry eyed, to shower and get ready. I come up short as I step out into the hallway and run into a tall, bare-chested man, holding only a towel around his middle.
Yelping, I try to move out of the way, but he does too, and we collide. My forearm slides against his wet torso and Archer gripsme high up on my waist. His long fingers wrap around my ribs and his thumb is dangerously close to brushing against the swell of my breast.
