Tall, Tatted and Tempting

by Tammy Falkner

  ***

  I wake the next morning to a gentle tap, tap, tap on the side of my nose. I blink my eyes open and startle when I see a face looking into mine. Hayley grins at me. “You sweepy?” she says quietly.

  I was until she tapped against my face like a hungry bird. I scrub the sleep from my eyes and look over at Logan. He’s lying beside me with one arm flung over his head, his mouth hanging open. I snuggle deeper into my pillow. “Where’s your daddy?” I ask.

  “Sweeping,” she says. She’s dragging a bunny by the ears. “I’m hungwy,” she says.

  I cover a yawn with my open palm. I probably have awful morning breath. “Can you go and wake your daddy?”

  She shakes her head. “He said to go back to sweep.”

  I look toward the window. The sun is just barely over the horizon.

  “I want a pancake,” she says.

  A pancake? “How about some cereal?” I ask as I throw the covers off myself and get up. I take a pair of Logan’s boxers from his drawer and put them on.

  “Dos are Logan’s,” she says, scowling at me.

  “Do you think he’ll mind if I borrow them?” I whisper at her.

  She shakes her head and smiles, taking my hand in her free one so she can lead me from the room. “You don’t got to whisper. Logan can’t hear,” she says.

  I laugh. She’s right. And what’s funny is that it took a three-year-old to remind me. I hold a finger to my lips, though, as we step out into the hallway. “But your daddy can. Shh.”

  She giggles and repeats my shush.

  She runs down the hallway, her naked feet slapping softly against the hardwood until she’s in the kitchen. I search through the cupboards to find a box of cereal.

  “Not dat one,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t wike dat one.” She points to a different box. One with a cartoon character and the word fruit on it. But I know there’s no fruit in this cereal. Or anything else healthy.

  “Does your daddy let you eat this?” I ask.

  She grins and nods. I shrug my shoulders and pour her a bowl of cereal with milk. She gets her own spoon from the drawer. She knows where everything is. She digs into her cereal, her feet swinging back and forth beneath the chair.

  I go and lie down on the couch. I am tired. I think Logan and I got to sleep around five in the morning, and it can’t be much later than that now. I lay back with a groan and close my eyes. I am just getting comfortable when two sharp elbows land in my midsection. Hayley crawls on top of me on the couch. I think she must be part monkey. She holds a kid-sized board book in her hand.

  “Wead,” she says, shoving it in my face.

  I sit up, tucking her into my lap. I take the book from her and open it, but the words jumble. I turn it upside down. “Once upon a time,” I begin.

  “Dat’s not how it goes,” she complains.

  She’s a smart girl. “I know,” I explain. “But books are magical, and if you turn them upside down, there’s a whole new story in the pages.”

  “Weally?” she asks, her eyes big with wonder.

  No, not really. But it’s the best I can do, kid. “Really,” I affirm.

  She wiggles, settling more comfortably in my arms.

  I start to make up a story based on the upside-down pictures. She listens intently. “Once upon a time, there was a little frog. And his name was Randolf.”

  “Randolf,” she repeats with a giggle.

  “And Randolf had one big problem.”

  “Uh oh,” she breathes. “What kind a problem?”

  “Randolf wanted to be a prince. But his mommy told him that he couldn’t be a prince since he was just a frog.”

  I keep reading until I say, “The end.” She lays the book to the side and snuggles into me. I kiss the top of her head because it feels like the right thing to do. And she smells good.

  “Your story was better than the book’s story,” she says.

  My heart swells with pride. “Thank you.” If only it was this easy to please the adults of the world.

  “Want to watch TV?” she asks.

  I yawn. “Sure. Why not?”

  She goes over and picks up a DVD. “You go start it,” she instructs.

  The DVD player is under the TV, and it doesn’t look that complicated. I put the movie in and turn the TV on. The movie starts, but it’s not a typical kids’ movie. It’s a movie that teaches sign language to children. I drop onto the floor to sit beside her. There’s a lady teaching each of the signs, and there are pictures. There are words at the bottom of the screen for people who can read. But it’s an instructional DVD made for kids.

  Hayley sits beside me, and she starts to repeat the signs. “You do it?” she asks. “We wearn signing for Logan.”

  I am enraptured. “We learn sign language for Logan,” I repeat with a nod.

  When the first DVD ends, we move on to the second. I have an amazing memory because I have to have one. So, I think I can remember some of this. I’m giddy with excitement. I practice some of the more basic signs with Hayley.

  We’re almost done with the second DVD when Paul walks into the room. “Hayley, what are you doing?” He scratches his stomach. His hair is a mess, sticking out all over the place.

  She pats my cheek. “I wearning signing with Logan’s girl,” she says.

  I like that. I like it a lot.

  “Did she wake you up?” Paul asks, smothering a yawn.

  I wave him off with a breezy hand. “It’s no big deal. She was showing me the DVDs.”

  He nods, his brows arching. “Well, I’m sorry she woke you. You should go back to bed.”

  “Do you think it would be all right if I watch the rest of them later?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy about it.

  He chuckles. “Of course. That’s how we all learned.”

  I nod. He picks Hayley up, jiggling her until she giggles. He laughs at her. “Next time I tell you to stay in bed, I mean stay in bed, little girl,” he says. She laughs all the way down the hallway until he takes her in his room and closes the door.

  I yawn. The bed is calling to me. I go back in Logan’s room, and he’s lying exactly as I left him. I draw the shades closed, so the room isn’t quite so bright. Then I take off his boxers and slide back into bed with him. He reaches for me immediately, pulling me into him as he rolls and covers me with his leg, his thigh across the backs of mine.

  “You all right?” he asks.

  I nod. I’m all right. I can’t help but think that I’m where I’m supposed to be.

  He brushes my hair from my face and nuzzles me with his lips. I settle deeper into him and go back to sleep with him wrapped around me.

  It seems like only moments later when the bed begins to vibrate.

  Logan

   

  The bed vibrates, and I reach over and smack the alarm clock. I hate early Saturday mornings. But I promised Sam that I would go and run some plays with him in the park before the shop opens. Sam’s a football player, and a few colleges are scouting him. He thinks he might get a full ride, and I couldn’t be happier for him. He doesn’t have the grades to get an academic scholarship like I did, but he’s capable of getting an education through sports, so that works, too.

  The purr of Kit’s throat tells me that she’s saying something. I look down at her lips, but she’s lying with her face smashed into the pillow. “Did you say something?” I ask, rolling her to her back. I throw my leg across her.

  She doesn’t speak, but she signs the word no at me. My heart leaps. She smiles, then her brown eyes open, and she blinks at me. “Did I do that right?” She signs the word for right, but nothing more.

  “Yes, it’s right. Where did you learn that?”

  “I watched some DVDs with Hayley this morning when she woke me up.” She yawns and turns toward me. “Will you sign with me? I want to learn your language so we can talk around your brothers.”

  My heart swells.

  “I can learn to sign,” she begins, like she has t
o justify her ability. I put my finger over her lips.

  “Shh…” I say. “I’ll sign with you anytime you want.”

  She’s lying on her back with my T-shirt sliding up to expose a strip of skin over her panties. I reach out, and run my hand along the seam of the fabric, dipping the tips of my fingers below the elastic. She squirms, and her eyes open. They’re soft and warm and pleading with me.

  I should move away from her, but I can’t. I haven’t been able to get away from her since I met her, and I can’t start now.

  I bend my head and press my lips to that little strip of skin, lingering there as I kiss my way from one hip to the other.  She arches her back, pressing her heat closer to me. If she were anyone else, I would be pulling her panties down her legs by now. But she’s not anyone else. She’s mine. And she’s special. I groan out loud, flip her shirt down, and move up to kiss her quickly. I’m sure I have morning breath, so I don’t linger. But as I move to roll off of her, she grabs my shoulders and pulls me back to her.

  “I’m not a virgin, you know?” she says.

  I still. I didn’t know. And I don’t care. “Okay.” I don’t know what else to say.

  She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at me as she says, “I just wanted to be sure you know in case that’s why you’re hesitating so much.”

  “Okay.” I pry her hands from my chest and roll away from her. She taps my shoulder, and I look at her.

  “It’s not like I’ve been with a lot of guys or anything.” She hesitates.

  “I didn’t ask.” I smile at her in encouragement, but I’m sort of reeling from her declaration. I look into her eyes. “Did you ever do it with someone you were in love with?” I drag my crooked finger down the line of her jaw.

  “Not yet,” she says.

  I can’t bite back my smile. “Good.” Neither have I.

  My dick is so hard that I have to shove it down into my jeans when I put them on. I turn away from her long enough to do it and zip.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “To toss the football with Sam.”

  She throws the covers off, and her face lights up. “Can I come?”

  I stop. “You want to go toss a football in the park?”

  She nods enthusiastically, her eyes shining. “There are a lot of things I can’t do, but football isn’t one of them.”

  “You play football?”

  “Played,” she clarifies. She takes on a strong-man pose. “Four years with the peewee league.”

  I laugh. “Get dressed. You can come.”

  She jerks on a pair of jeans and lifts her hair into a messy ponytail. Damn, she’s pretty. She picks up her bra, turns her back to me, and hides her arms in the shirt, adjusting the bra beneath the fabric. Within seconds, she’s ready to go. She slides on her boots and nods. “Ready?” she asks. “What? You look like you’ve never seen a woman get dressed quickly.”

  “I’ve never woken up with a woman,” I say. She stops moving and stares at me. “So, no, I’ve never watched one get dressed to start the day.” It’s usually a quick shrug into clothing after I kick someone out of my bed. Correction—after I make her come and then kick her out of my bed. But one day soon, I hope to watch her get dressed without holding the shirt over the best parts. “It seems really intimate, and I’ve never paid attention to anyone getting dressed after getting out of my bed.” I shrug. “I like it.”

  “I’m your first,” she teases, her face going soft.

  I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “You’re my first,” I say, walking toward her. She thinks I’m going to squeeze her into a hug, and she leans into me. But I jerk her into the crook of my arm and give her a noogie instead. “That’s for messing with me,” I growl.

  She jerks back, running her hand over her hair. She bends and takes her toothbrush from her bag.

  “We don’t have time for tooth brushing, woman,” I say. “It’s time for football.”

  “I am not leaving here without brushing my teeth,” she says pertly. Then she signs the word no.

  I point her toward the bathroom and smack her ass. She jumps and turns toward me, walking backward. She shakes her finger at me, and I chase her into the bathroom. She brushes her teeth standing two feet away from me while I brush mine. I imagine her humming, and I find that I’m right when I place my hand on her throat. “Don’t stop,” I say.

  She mouths something at me, but her mouth is full of toothpaste, and I have no idea what she’s saying.

  “Don’t stop humming,” I say.

  “Why do you care?” she asks after she spits. “You can’t hear it.”

  “You look happy when you do it. So, don’t stop.”

  She freezes, nods at me, and rinses her mouth. I do the same. I grab her by the belt loops and tug her to me. “Is it safe to kiss you now?” I ask.

  “Unless you want to be late,” she warns, but she’s smiling and she’s already threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.

  I slam the bathroom door shut. “Let’s be late,” I say.

  Emily

   

  Sam is annoyed because we’re running later than he’d planned. I can’t say I blame him. But when Logan kisses me, I can’t think about anything but him. He always calls for the stop before I do. I can’t figure out what to do about that, aside from giving him time to trust me. We just met a few days ago, but I feel like I’ve known him my whole life.  He’s kind, considerate, and he doesn’t treat me like I’m somehow lacking because of my dyslexia. He doesn’t seem to care.

  Ahead of us, Hayley walks alongside Paul, her fist clutching his index finger. She’s dressed warmly in a pink coat that has fur around the hood. She’s adorable. Paul looks at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Sam and Pete walk side by side in front of them, and they stop to shove one another across the sidewalk every few seconds. Logan tosses a ball in the air as we walk together. I bite back a shiver.

  He makes the sign for cold, asking me with his brows raised if I am. I show him my fingers about an inch apart. He hands me the ball, unzips his hoodie, and puts it around my shoulders. I pass the ball back to him, tug the hoodie more tightly around myself, and slide my arms into it. I zip it up to my chin. I lift it and sniff. It smells like him.

  Why? he asks in sign, then he mimes my sniff. Why did I smell it? I know the sign for why, and my heart delights that I do.

  I don’t know how to sign the words, so I say, “Smells like you. I like it.” I shrug my shoulders. I turn around backward and walk facing him because I’m sure it’s hard for him to read my lips from the side. He holds a hand in warning. He shakes his head.

  No need, he signs. He mouths the words while he does it, so I get it.

  “Don’t let me run into anything,” I warn. I like looking at him. Apparently, a lot of other women do, too. His arms are naked, his T-shirt straining across his shoulders. You can see his tattoos, which go all the way to his hairline on the back of his neck. He attracts a lot of attention. “Women really love you, don’t they?” I ask. He’s drawn more than one pair of eyes, from the teenagers to the cougars. They all stop to stare as he walks past. And having his brothers with him doesn’t help any. They’re a good-looking group of boys.

  He shrugs, looking sort of put out by my question.

  When we get to the park, Matt sits on a bench, and I drop down beside him. Logan goes with Sam and Pete to toss the ball around. Paul chases Hayley over to the swings.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask Matt.

  “Fine,” he says quickly. He doesn’t elaborate.

  “You don’t look fine,” I blurt out. I can’t help it. He doesn’t.

  “Thanks,” he says, his voice droll. “I love to hear how bad I look from beautiful girls.” He nods. “Appreciate it.”

  “Why didn’t you stay home to rest?”

  “Honestly?” he asks, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He’s leaning forward so that his elbows res
t on his knees. He plucks a blade of grass.

  “No, lie to me,” I respond. Then I roll my eyes.

  He chuckles. “I don’t know how many more moments I’ll have to do this. I want to suck every bit of life from the moments I have.”

  Tears prick at the backs of my lashes. “Are you afraid?” I ask quietly.

  “Only every fucking day,” he says on a heavy sigh.

  “Oh.” I don’t know what else I can say. “What’s your prognosis?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m being so nosy. I just want to know what Logan will be up against. And Matt. But mainly for Logan. I might be able to do something to cushion his blow.

  “Don’t know. I go back in two weeks, and they’ll tell me if the chemo worked.”

  I nod. What can you say to that? Hope it’s good news. Hope you’re going to live. Oh, you’re going to be just fine. None of those seem appropriate.

  He turns so that his knee is facing me, his arm lying along the back of the bench. “I’ve been trying to plan. For when I’m gone.”

  Shoot. What should I say to that? “That’s smart.” I’m an idiot.

  “I have letters for all my brothers. I already wrote them.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing all day?”

  He nods, playing with the piece of grass, rolling it between his fingers.

  “They’ll appreciate them if anything ever happens to you.”

  “When something happens to me,” he says, correcting me. “It’s just a matter of how long I have at this point, I think. I can feel it.”

  I cover my hand with his on the back of the bench and give it a squeeze. “Is there anything at all I can do for you? Anything to help you plan?”

  He looks at me, hard. His green eyes bore into mine. “If you’re still around when it’s time, can I give you the letters? To share with them when I’m gone?”

  “I’ll still be around,” I say. I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon. “And yes, I can take your letters. Just tell me how and when you want them delivered.”

  He nods. “I have one for this girl, too. April is her name. Logan will be able to find her. But he won’t give her a letter from me. He sort of hates her.”

  “She probably deserves it,” I mumble.

  He chuckles. “You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with.” He sits silent for a minute. Then he says, “Don’t let them put me on the mantel or anything,” he says. “I fucking hate the idea of being stuffed in an urn.”

  “What would you want them to do with your ashes, if they could?” I kick at a rock that’s near my toe.

  “I don’t give a fuck, as long as I’m not stuck on the mantelpiece.” He laughs.

  “Don’t give up yet, all right?” I ask.

  He nods. “I’m fighting ’til the day I die. But there are things I need to plan for.”

  I nod. I understand.

  Logan walks over and stands in front of me. He signs something. The only sign I recognize is the word girl.

  “No, I’m not putting the moves on your girl,” Matt complains. Then he laughs. “She’s putting the moves on me.”

  Logan turns to me, his mouth hanging open wide. But his eyes dance with laughter. He pulls on my hands until I stand up. Then he bends and tosses me over his shoulder and spins in a circle. I scream, covering my eyes. I know he won’t drop me but still.

  He runs around, and Sam and Pete chase us. Pete—or Sam. I still can’t tell them apart— slaps my butt. I flail around, trying to reach out and grab him, but Logan is running with me over his shoulder. He spins, holding tightly to my legs. I cover my eyes and squeal, but I know he can’t hear me.

  I hit Logan on the butt, but he pays me no mind. Suddenly, he stops and starts to lower me down his body. I slide along him slowly, my body contours rubbing against his until my feet hit the ground.

  “Hi,” he says quietly. He signs it, too, but his free arm is around me, holding me against him.

  “Hi,” I say, and I sign it just like he did. Then I smack his chest. “I can’t believe you did that.” I turn and motion toward Sam. “Throw me the ball,” I say. Sam looks at me like I’m nuts, so I say, “What? Are you afraid to play with a girl?”

  He smiles and hurls the ball at me. I take off running with it cradled in my arm. Logan runs after me, but I’m faster than any of them expected. Just before I reach the bench Matt’s sitting on, Logan snakes an arm around my waist, swinging me around. While he holds me tightly, Sam wrestles the ball from me. “That’s cheating!” I scream.

  “Cheating is allowed!” Sam yells back.

  “In whose rule book?” I ask, stamping my foot.

  “What rule book?” Matt says with a chuckle. He hefts himself to his feet. “Me and you against them?” he says. He grins at me.

  “We can take them any day,” I say, throwing my arms around him. He squeezes me gently and sets me away from him. He rubs my head, messing my hair all up.

  Logan runs down the field, and I chase him. He turns to catch the ball Sam throws, and as soon as he has it, I tackle him. I hit him as hard as I can. He stumbles with me holding his shirt until I can wrap around his legs. He goes down like a big oak tree falling. He lies on his stomach, but he’s smiling at me. I climb on his back and sit on him, plucking the ball from his grip. I hold it in the air and cheer, flailing my feet wildly. He lets me sit there on top of him for a minute as his breath heaves in and out under me. But then he upends me. He rolls me under him.

  “You cheated,” he says. His hands hold my wrists in a strong grip.

  “There’s no rule book, remember?” I giggle when he tickles beneath my ribs. “Stop!” I cry.

  He looks into my eyes. “I think I might be falling in love with you,” he says softly.

  My breath catches. “Yeah, me too,” I say.

  He smiles and gets to his feet, tugging me up beside him. His face is flushed, and he’s grinning.

  “If you two are done playing lovey-dovey,” Matt yells, “we have a game to win.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

  Suck every moment from life. We should all do more of that.

  Logan

   

  It has been almost two weeks since her declaration in the park. She hasn’t said it again and neither have I. But I know she loves me. There’s no doubt in my mind. She sleeps in my bed every night, and we spend every waking moment together when we’re not working. I’m so used to having her at my side already, I’m not sure I’ll survive it at this point if she leaves me. I’m hopeful that she’ll be ready for what I want soon. Because I want all of her. I want her past, her present, and her future. I want to ask her to marry me, but I can’t. Not yet.

  Sometimes, there’s a look in her eye that I don’t fully understand. She’s longing for something she doesn’t have. I’m not sure if it’s home or something else.

  She’s learned to sign more in the past two weeks, and she can carry on basic conversations. She’s actually really good at it, and she’s found that spelling isn’t as hard for her when she’s finger spelling as it is on paper. Something about the spacing of the letters, she says.

  She’s sitting on the couch now with Hayley in her arms. She’s holding a book upside down and telling a story she has made up. The corners of my lips tip up, and I can’t bite back my grin. She fits so well into my family.

  She still busks in the subway every day while I work at the tattoo shop. And last Friday night at Bounce, the band encouraged her up on the stage when the crowd started chanting for her. They passed a hat through the audience, and she got to keep the money they put in it. It was just over one hundred dollars, and she only played one or two songs.

  She saves every dime of the money she makes. We won’t let her pay rent. My brothers and I had a frank discussion about it, and we all agreed. She does too much for us to charge her rent. She cooks often, and she can’t seem to keep from cleaning, even though we tell her not to.

  Pete’s on the couch across from Kit with a girl he met a couple of weeks
ago. They’ve been necking for about ten minutes. I’m standing in the kitchen with Paul. I jerk my thumb toward them and Paul scowls. He says something to Pete, who looks up sheepishly. He adjusts his junk and lifts the girl up, taking her down the hallway toward his room. Paul yells at him, and he comes back and takes a few condoms from the drawer, grins, and goes to his room.

  “Great,” Sam grouses. “I’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

  Paul smiles. “There are two beds in there.”

  “Yuck,” Sam says. “I don’t want to have to hear them.”

  At least the boy is getting some, I sign.

  Kit scolds me with a glance from across the room. I rue the day I taught her to speak sign language. I can’t keep anything a secret anymore. I shrug at her and she grins.

  You would be getting some too if you’d quit being such a prude, she signs to me.

  Did you really just call me a prude? I ask as I stalk toward her.

  She sets Hayley to the side and jumps over the back of the couch. By now, she knows I’m coming for her. She darts around the sofa and dodges back and forth, trying to avoid my hands. But I catch the tail of her shirt and jerk her to me. Linking my arm around her waist, I pick her up and take her to our room, slamming the door behind us. I toss her onto the bed, and she bounces, laughing at me.

  “Did you really just call me a prude?” I ask again, this time using my voice.

  “No, definitely not.” She laughs as I tickle her, and she squirms in my arms.

  “I think you did.” I keep tickling her because I know it drives her crazy.

  “Prove it,” she says. She’s signing the whole time she’s talking. So, I don’t miss anything with her anymore. She grabs my hands to keep me from tickling her.

  I growl as I press my lips to her throat. “Don’t tempt me,” I warn.

  She taps my shoulder until I look up at her. “I want to tempt you. I want to tempt you really bad.” She throws her head back on the last word, and I can feel her throat vibrating as she growls. “You’re making me crazy.”

  I chuckle. “I think that’s my line.”

  “How much longer will you make me wait?”

  I wake up with her wrapped around me every fucking morning. I go to sleep with her in my arms every night. I take long, cold showers every day, just so I can take some of the pressure off. She’s making me nuts. But she’s not ready for me yet. She’s not. She knows it. I know it.

  I change into a pair of jeans while she watches. I don’t even try to hide my erection from her anymore. She knows it’s there. She knows how much I want her. I think she knows how much I love her. I feel certain she loves me just as much. I just don’t know why she’s still hiding.

  “I have to work tonight at Bounce. Are you coming with me?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I have a date with Hayley to read a book.” She doesn’t look at me.

  She doesn’t have any plans—she’s lying, and I think I know why. “Paul has a date tonight, and he’s taking Hayley with him,” I remind her.

  “Oh.” She avoids my gaze.

  “You’re worried about Matt, aren’t you?” I ask her. I frame her face with my hands and look into her eyes.

  She nods. “He’s been sleeping too much. I don’t think it’s good.”

  We all dance around the fact that Matt will be going back to the doctor two days from now to find out his prognosis. Everyone but Kit. She thinks about it a lot, it seems. I try not to think about it at all.

  “You want to stay home so you can keep an eye on him?” I run a hand down the length of her hair and press a kiss to her forehead.

  “Would you mind?” she asks. She looks hopeful.

  “You know Pete’s here,” I remind her.

  “Pete’s knocking boots in the bedroom. How’s he going to know if Matt’s okay or not?”

  She’s right. “Thanks for staying,” I say. I kiss her forehead again. “I’m taking Sam with me, but send Pete for me if you need anything, okay?”

  She nods. She flops back on the bed, and I want to climb on top of her. But I have to go. Sam beats on the wall. I can feel the vibration of it. “What do you want, Sam?” I ask.

  “Her,” he says, grinning as he pushes the door open. He waggles his brows at Kit.

  I punch his shoulder. “She’s taken.”

  Kit grins, shaking her head. She has gotten used to all of us. I walk over to her and tip her head up to look into her eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Count on it,” she says.

  Emily

   

  I step closer to Matt’s door, listening intently for signs of life. He’s been really tired for the past few days, and I’m worried for him. I’m really worried for him. And for Logan and the rest of them. None of them have come to terms with the fact that Matt is dying. They all overlook it, like pretending it’s not going to happen is going to help him.

  His voice, weak and tired, funnels through the crack in the door. “Don’t just stand there breathing hard. Come on in.”

  I open the door and smile at him. “You could not hear me breathing.”

  He chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound. “I heard your footsteps. You should learn to be stealthier. Like Paul. He came in last night and stood over me, watching me breathe for about an hour.” He adjusts his pillow, fluffing it and jamming it behind his head. “He thinks I was asleep.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him you were awake?” I ask. “You two could have talked.”

  He harrumphs. “He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to fix everything. But I’m afraid I can’t be fixed.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He heaves a sigh. “I know it.”

  I can’t say anything past the lump in my throat.

  “How’s it going?” he asks.

  I still can’t find my tongue, so I just nod. It’s not an answer but whatever.

  “That good, huh?” he rolls toward me, his arm beneath his pillow.

  “Matt,” I start. But I stop, gnaw my lower lip, and shake my head. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “You still running Logan in circles?” he asks.

  I bite back a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He laughs. “It’s good for him. Keep it up.” He narrows his eyes. “He’s never had to work for anyone before. Women came easily for him.”

  My face floods with heat when I realize what he said.

  He laughs. “Yeah, that, too.” He points across the room. “You remember those letters I told you about?” he asks.

  I nod. I don’t want to talk about the letters. Because when I deliver them, he’ll be gone.

  “They’re in my top drawer. My dresser.” He nods his head in that direction. “When the time is right, be sure they get them?”

  I nod. “I will. I promise.”

  “There’s one for you too.”

  I don’t want mine. “Okay.”

  He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly. I can tell the action takes a lot out of him. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Sit here with you.”

  He smiles at me, and I see so much of Logan in him that it hurts. He rolls to the edge of the bed and lifts himself up to sit. “Let’s watch a movie.”

  I nod, taking his hand in mine to help him to his feet. He lets me, but he groans as he gets up. “You sure you can want to do this?” I ask.

  “Remember when I told you I was going to suck every minute out of life that I could?” He stares at me. I am a little worried that he’s trying to gather enough energy to walk into the living room.

  “Let’s go suck at life,” I say. “Do you want some popcorn?” I ask over my shoulder. He’s following me.

  “Why not?” he says flippantly. “Popcorn and snuggling with Logan’s girl.” His voice is farther behind me now, but he’s coming, so I start the popcorn. The steady pop, pop, pop has started when I realize he hasn’t followed me int
o the kitchen.

  There’s a thud in the hallway, and I jump. “Matt?” I ask, walking back in that direction. But Matt’s lying on the floor. He’s drooling, and his body is convulsing. “Oh, shit,” I say. “Matt!” I roll him onto his side because I heard that’s what you do when someone convulses. Or maybe it’s that you’re supposed to roll him onto his back. Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know. “Pete!” I yell.

  Pete opens his door. He’s in a pair of boxers, and he drags his shirt over his head. “What?” he asks. Then he sees Matt lying on the floor. “What the fuck?” he says, and he drops down beside Matt.

  “Go call nine-one-one,” I say calmly. When he sits there and doesn’t move, I shove him and yell in his face. “Go call nine-one-one!”

  He shakes out of his fear-induced stupidity and runs to the phone. He gives them the address and stays on the line with them until the ambulance arrives. He gets dressed while he talks to them, stepping into his jeans in front of me, but I don’t care. His girlfriend leaves. She’s not worth the air she’s breathing, apparently.

  Matt calms, and I lift his head into my lap. I wipe the spittle from his face with my sleeve and brush his hair back from his forehead. He’s still. Too still. I hadn’t realized how much hair he’d lost with the chemo. It’s thinner than I thought it was. I brush across his face.

  “Not yet. It’s too soon,” I whisper to him.

  I follow the paramedics as they carry him downstairs. “One of you can ride along,” the paramedic says.

  Pete looks at me and says, “I need to get my brothers.” He runs a heavy hand through his buzz cut.

  He knows where they are, and I don’t. None of them carry cell phones because it’s not in their budget.

  “Go get some shoes,” I say. He looks down at his naked feet and nods.

  He shoves me into the ambulance, and they close the door behind us. The rest of the world falls away, and I can no longer hear the sounds of the street or the blaring horns. All I can hear is the unsteady beat of Matt’s heart on the monitor. Every time it stutters, mine flips in my chest, my breath leaving me. I lean over and take Matt’s hand.

  “It would be better if you don’t touch him,” one of the paramedics says.

  I nod and sit back, buckling the seat belt in the jump seat they pointed me toward. My hands are shaking, and I don’t know what to do with myself. They start an IV and look into his eyes and do a lot of things I don’t understand.

  He doesn’t wake up. I worry that he never will.

  Paul gets to the hospital first, and he’s carrying Hayley on his hip. She’s frantic, and she wants to know why they can’t finish their date. I hold out my hands, and she comes to me, settling against my chest.

  “What happened?” Paul asks.

  “He just fell down in the hallway and started to shake,” I try to explain. But I’m trying to be strong since I’m holding Hayley.

  “Can we see him?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Not yet. They took him back, and they’re working on him.”

  Paul goes to the payphone and drops in some change. He turns his back to me and talks for a minute. Then he comes and takes Hayley back from my arms. “Now, we wait,” he says.

  Hayley pats his cheek, and I see tears well up in his eyes. “Where Uncle Matt?” Hayley asks.

  “Uncle Matt’s with the doctors,” he explains, blinking hard.

  “Dey gonna make him all betta?” she asks. She’s following his gaze with hers, not letting him off the hook. She frowns when he doesn’t answer.

  “They’re going to work hard to make him better,” I tell her.

  “Thank you,” Paul chokes out. I nod. I can’t say more than that. Hayley holds out her arms to me again, and I take her to sit down. We read upside-down books until a woman comes rushing through the doors. She runs to Paul. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and she’s almost as tall as he is. But she’s stunning. Hayley has Paul’s hair color and eyes, but everything else about her is her mother.

  The woman leans into Paul, and he hugs her tightly. I hear them murmuring to one another, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. She comes to me and takes Hayley in her arms. “Thank you,” she says.

  I look in her eyes. She’s kind. I can tell. And I can also see that she’s head over heels in love with Paul. She walks over to him, whispers something in his ear, and he nods. She kisses him on the lips, and he kisses her back. “I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on,” he says.

  She leaves with Hayley. Paul takes a deep breath and sits down beside me, his elbows on his knees. “He wasn’t in a lot of pain, was he?” he asks.

  “Not that I could tell.” He was convulsing but not in pain. I doubt he was feeling much.

  “That’s my biggest fear. That he’ll be in a lot of pain when it happens. It scares me to death.”

  “So you’ve thought about it,” I blurt out. I want to take it back immediately, but it’s too late.

  “Thought about it.” He snorts. “It’s all I ever fucking think about. Ever.” His voice cracks on the last word. “I’m his big brother. I’m supposed to be able to save him from anything that could hurt him. But I can’t save him from this.”

  I just listen because there’s nothing I can say to comfort him.

  A teardrop rolls down his cheek, and he brushes it away with a hurried swipe. “He knows how much you care,” I say. It’s probably the wrong thing to tell him.

  “The fucker better know how I feel about him. I’d die for every last one of them. I wish it was me instead of him. I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.”

  “He wouldn’t let you.” It’s the truth.

  Paul chuckles. But it’s a sound without any merriment.

  The doors of the hospital slide open, and Logan, Pete, and Sam run in. I hop out of my chair and fall into Logan’s arms because I know he’ll catch me. He squeezes me to him and rubs my hair for a second. Paul walks over and starts to speak to him. They’re all signing, but I can follow enough.

  Can we see him? Logan asks.

  Paul shakes his head. “Not yet. They’ll let us know when we can.”

  If we can. But no one says that out loud.

  Logan drops his arm around me and pulls me to him. His face is in my hair, and I can feel the warm caress of his breath against my neck. I lift my head and look up at him. “It’s bad,” I say.

  He closes his eyes and lays the tips of his fingers against his temple. He knows.