Page 62 of Comeback
“I have always been a great sleeper,” I say, like it’s some big accomplishment. “My dad read to me at bedtime and my mom would sometimes just lie with me if I had a nightmare or I was sick.” As I think about it, my chest hurts. “I miss them.”
“Why did you come back to Lake City?” he asks.
“My mom made me.”
One of his dark brows quirks up. He’s moved closer. Or maybe I have. His forearm rests against my bare thigh.
“Before she got sick, moving here and opening my own studio is all I talked about. She never wanted me to move home in the first place, but I didn’t give her a choice. I had to be there. Maybe more for my own sanity than for hers. She is a fighter. So strong and stubborn, full of life.”
Archer hangs on my every word. I breathe in deep and let it out slowly.
“Anyway, the day she finished her last round of chemo and rang the bell, she turned to me and said, “Time to pack your bags.”
He laughs again and the sound vibrates through me.
“So here I am.”
“I’m glad,” he says. The air is thick with tension. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I will him to kiss me again, but he catches himself and stands tall, pulling away from me.
“I’m glad she’s doing better and I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
He rinses out our mugs and then sets them in the dishwasher. I hop down from the counter.
“Can you sleep now?” I ask.
“I hope so.”
“Want me to sing to you?”
One side of his mouth lifts. “Nah. I’ve got Conway Twitty and Waylon Jennings.”
“Okay.”
We continue to stand in the kitchen, only a foot of distance between us. It would be so easy to touch him. A step forward to press myself against him. A slight lift onto my toes to brush my lips over his.
But he clears his throat, and it snaps me out of it, reminding me that he doesn’t want this or if he does, he’s not going to act on it.
“Good night,” I say, taking a step back.
18
ARCHER
My younger brother, Flynn, got called up from the minors today. It’s a pretty big deal considering he was only drafted this summer. We all thought when he left college early, he’d spend a year or two getting experience at the next level before moving up again.
But the Twins starting pitcher has been struggling during the postseason and Flynn is the answer for them. At least they hope so. I do too.
The Mavericks are in Houston. We got here this afternoon and were able to get on the field for a quick practice. Our game is tomorrow afternoon, which means tonight Brogan and I are down at the hotel bar watching Flynn take the field in the bottom of the fifth inning.
“He looks like a grown ass man,” Brogan says as number eighteen walks to the pitcher’s mound.
“Knox said he grew another inch since the summer.” I don’t take my eyes off the screen as my little brother glances around the stadium of fans. Pride fills my chest. Barely twenty years old and making his major league debut.
“Fuck. I’m so nervous I don’t know if I can watch.” Brogan takes another drink of his beer.
Those same nerves bounce around inside me, but I don’t look away. It’s unreal. I can still remember him playing little league. He was always the most athletic of us. Brogan likes to tease him that all our talents rubbed off on him over the years, but the truth is Flynn is just on another level than the rest of us. The sky is the limit for what he’ll achieve.
