Page 32 of Comeback
This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had and I’m not sure why she’s playing along so nicely after the way I’ve treated her.
“If you’re going to trap me in here, you at least have to entertain me,” she says like she’s read my mind.
“Fair enough.” I lean back against the dresser, facing her and crossing one ankle over the other. “We made it about twenty minutes intoTotal Recall.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Me either.”
“You didn’t finish it?”
“Nah. Didn’t feel like the kind of movie to watch alone.”
She studies me in a way that makes me self-conscious. I went to bed without a shirt and in only a pair of black sweats like I’ve done a million other times. Shorts or sweats depending on the time of year.
She’s seen me like this before but there’s something intimate about her checking me out while we’re alone in my room.
“Can I see your tattoos?”
“Uhhh…” I glance down at my left shoulder. “Sure.”
Standing, I step closer to her. Then realize that didn’t help much so I take a seat on the bed and angle my body so she has a better view. Holding still while she leans forward is difficult. I’ve spent all our interactions putting distance between us and now I wonder if that was as much about my reaction to her as my distrust of her hurting Brogan.
She lifts one hand and her fingers trace along the roses and then the mountains and jumps to the angel wings. I swallow as her nail grazes my skin, sending a tingle down my spine.
“The longer I look, the more I see,” she says, still staring at the ink that covers my shoulder and goes down my bicep. Her fingers move more confidently now. She points at one on the back of my arm. “Is this the sign for brother?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out a little gruff.
“And the number eighteen is for your football number?”
“It was my mom’s birthday. All my brothers wear eighteen. Well, except Brogan because having a last name like Six sort of demands that be your lucky number.”
“It’s weird to think that could have been my last name,” she says.
“Sabrina Six,” I try it out. “Has a nice ring to it.”
Her light laughter is just loud enough to hear, but I feel the vibration with her fingers still touching me.
When she drops her hand, I miss the feeling.
“What’s the one on the inside of your right arm?” she asks, motioning with her head toward it. “I saw Brogan has one too.”
I hold out my right arm and look down at my newest tattoo with a smile. Five black circles in a line on my upper right forearm. “We all got them over the summer—me, Brogan, and the rest of my brothers. Five circles to represent all of us.”
“And the fourth one is colored in because you’re the fourth brother?”
“That’s right. Brogan’s a few months older than me.”
“I love that. And I love that you guys have always included him.”
“He’s one of us.”
She studies me for a beat like she’s trying to get a better read on me. “He’s truly like a brother to you, isn’t he?”
“Heisour brother,” I say automatically. “Hendrick, Knox, and Flynn all feel the same.”
When Brogan came to stay with us, my mom and three brothers all accepted him without question. He was already my best friend, and we spent a lot of time together anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a leap for him to become part of the family.
