Page 29 of Comeback
A crease forms between his brows as he looks between me and Archer but then he nods. “We need to celebrate.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is so necessary,” London interjects. “Plus, he’ll use any excuse to throw a party.”
She points a finger toward my brother who just grins.
“Well, it’ll have to be another night because I have work.” Which I’m now going to be late for if I don’t hurry.
“We have a game tomorrow, but maybe Monday night?” Brogan asks.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“You’re still coming with me tomorrow, right?” London smiles. She lowers her voice like she’s telling me a secret as she adds, “If you don’t come, Brogan is going to be very sad.”
“I only want her to come if she wants to come,” he says but then looks at me with a pleading expression.
“I’m definitely coming, and I’d love to go with you.” When she offered, I wasn’t sure if she was just being nice or if she really wanted me to sit with her. She often brings her own friends with her to watch, so she doesn’t strictly need me to have someone to sit with during the game.
“Yeah. It’s going to be so much fun.”
“Great,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow then.” I take my sandwich with me toward the door. Guess I’m eating on the drive to work.
10
ARCHER
The night before a game, I always struggle to fall asleep. Brogan and London invited me to watch movies with them, but by ten o’clock, they’re off to bed and I’m basically alone in the apartment.
I play video games until after one. Okay, I might be waiting up to see if Sabrina makes it home before I crash. I’m still thinking about last night. How she was celebrating finding a studio space and I had no idea. Tripp knew. I put that together even before I texted him to verify.
I feel like a jerk but how was I supposed to know if she didn’t tell me?
At one thirty my eyes are finally starting to get heavy. In my room, I turn on the music. I keep the volume low, but the bass high. I love music. Always have. Losing my hearing didn’t impact that. I still love a good rock ballad or some heavy drums. I’ll even go twangy with some country occasionally.
Tonight, I’m going old school with some ‘80s hair band tunes. It reminds me of my brothers and of my mom. The five of us would jam out while doing chores around the house or in the car or on the occasional Sunday afternoon when Mom made ushelp her clean up around the bar she owned. We all seemed to get along better with the music up too loud for us to argue.
I take out my hearing aids and fall asleep to the gentle lull of Bret Michael’s crooning about looking for a good time.
Sometime later, my eyes flutter open. I lie there for a moment, instinctively listening and glancing around to figure out why I’m awake. Light streams in from under the crack of my door. I check the time on my phone. It’s just after three. Damn. If Sabrina is just getting home that’s a late night.
I lie there a while longer, waiting for the light to go out. A distant noise grabs my attention instead. I can’t make it out, but something tickles in my ear. I reach for my hearing aids and put them in, and the sound comes into focus. It sounds like she’s coughing. It goes on so long that I worry she’s choking or something.
My feet swing over the side of the bed, and I hurry out of my room. Adrenaline courses through me. I glance toward her room, but it’s dark and the door is open. She never sleeps with it open. The light is coming from the bathroom. The door is cracked, but I hesitate as I reach it.
The coughing has stopped, but it sounds like her breaths are short and ragged.
“Sabrina?” I knock on the door and wait a second for her reply. It comes nonverbally as she pushes the door wider and meets my gaze.
Her brown eyes are watery, and she has a sort of panicked look on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, fear grabbing hold of me even before I know why.
“Asthma,” she manages to croak out and then another coughing fit takes a hold of her. Her entire body goes rigid.
“What can I do to help?”
She starts to answer, and I shake my head, then sign the question.
