Comeback (The Holland Brothers Book 3)

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 us help 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.

She understands my intention and signs back, Nothing. It’ll pass.

She leans forward slightly, resting one hand against the vanity. Her shoulders are tense, and every breath looks torturous.

It turns out, I’m not good at doing nothing while Sabrina struggles to breathe.

I spot the inhaler clutched in her right hand.

“Did you already take it?” I ask, signing too so she won’t try to talk back.

She nods. I’m okay. My chest feels looser already.

“Should you sit or something?” Aside from the toilet or the edge of the tub, there aren’t a lot of options, so when she nods again, I take her hand and lead her back to my room.

It’s closest and I’m not really thinking about anything except getting her comfortable as quickly as possible. I pull the comforter up to make the bed and she sits on the edge.

She has a dazed look that freaks me out.

“Do you want water?”

Sabrina doesn’t respond and I squat down in front of her.

“Hey.” I drop one hand to her bare knee. Her lashes flutter and her gaze moves to where I’m touching her and then up to my face.

Seconds pass while we’re locked in a stare, neither of us speaking or looking away. My pulse races. I have never felt more helpless.

“Do you want water?” I finally ask again, only moving the hand on her knee long enough to sign the question.

She shakes her head and exhales a long, shaky breath, then aims a wobbly smile at me. “I’m okay.”

The more she says it, the less I believe her. Though her breathing seems to be evening out and the scared look on her face is retreating. I doubt she can say the same about mine. Holy shit. I stand and run my hands through my hair as the adrenaline fades.

I take a seat beside her. My body feels like I’m the one that just went through something. That was intense.

We sit in silence until I can tell that whatever just happened has passed. Her chest rises and falls in a normal rhythm and her fingers unclench from around the inhaler.

“Sorry,” she whispers, blinking and looking around like she’s just realizing where she is. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m usually better at catching an attack before it hits me like that.”

She rubs at her chest as stands.

I move in front of her, blocking her path. “Where are you going?”

“To my room.”

I take another breath, trying to loosen the panic still racing through my bloodstream. “The only place you’re going is the hospital.”

“They’ll just tell me what I already know.”

Right. I guess maybe she knows better than I do, but I’m hard-pressed to believe she should be alone right now. “Does that happen often?”

“It’s been about seven months since the last one.” She offers me a small smile. “I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to worry about me dying on your bathroom floor. Or maybe I should apologize for not dying.”

Does she really think I want her dead? Jesus. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt like more of an asshole.

How did things get so twisted?

I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. I just want to protect my best friend like he’s always done for me.

Whatever my reasoning, I know Brogan wouldn’t want me to let her slink back to her room alone when she obviously just went through something traumatic.

“Do you want me to get Brogan?”

He’d be better at this.

“No. Definitely not. I’m fine.”

Fine? Is she serious?

She must sense my disbelief because her entire body softens and she says, “Really. I’m okay. And I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I was here. Although I’m pretty fucking useless. I had no idea what to do. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

Not being able to breathe feels like a big fucking deal.

“No. I only needed one puff from the inhaler.”

I guess I still don’t look convinced because she adds, “I’ll call my doctor in the morning, but it just happens.”

I knew she had asthma, but I guess I’ve never really known someone who has it because that was way worse than I was imagining.

“What causes it?” I ask her.

“Mine is the worst when I’m stressed, but working in the dusty studio all day is probably what brought it on this time.”

Right. The studio space she was celebrating last night while I was wishing she’d stayed home. Yet another reason to feel like an asshole.

“We were busy at the club tonight so I wasn’t monitoring the symptoms as well as I should have been,” she says like it’s her fault.

“I hope you can go back to sleep.” She starts for the door, but I reach out without thought. My fingers circle around her forearm and Sabrina pauses, gaze locking on the spot where I’m touching her. I drop my hand.

“Don’t leave yet. You freaked me out. If you go to bed now, I’m going to lie awake all night listening to make sure you’re still breathing.” I’m aware that all my reasonings sound selfish, but I doubt she’d believe me if I told her I was worried about her.

“I promise that I’m okay,” she says, but she sits back down on the bed and my panic retreats.

She probably wants to go to sleep, but I’m glad when she settles in, pulling one knee onto the bed and letting her other leg dangle off the side, so she can better face me.

The lights are still out in my room, but I always leave the curtains open and tonight there’s a full moon.

“Your brother would kick my ass if he found out I left you after…whatever that was.”

“An asthma attack.”

Even the words have dread swirling my gut.

“What’d you guys do tonight?” she asks. Her voice is still slightly strained, but I figure she knows her body well enough to decide if it’s okay to talk instead of sign, and in truth, I like hearing her voice. It has a raspy quality to it that feels good in my chest.

“We stayed in. Had a movie night. Which went exactly as you’d imagine,” I say, feeling a smile loosen. “Brogan can’t sit still long enough for a movie, even if his girl is around to distract him.”

“They’re cute together.”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “He found a good one. She has this effect on him. It’s like he’s more himself somehow now that they’re together.”

The words are out before I realize how dumb they sound. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, actually, I think it does. Even in the short time I’ve known him, I can see how she mellows him but also lets him be himself without judgment.”

I’m glad she gets it because I’m not sure I could have put it into words like she did. It’s true, though. Brogan never felt good enough and his fun-loving, life-of-the-party personality wasn’t exactly an act but more of a defense mechanism. With her, he’s still that guy just without the need for validation and attention.

“What movie did you watch?” she asks.

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 into Total 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?”

“He is our 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.

Besides, I saw what it was like for him. Even as a kid I wanted to shield him from that. The same way he protected me when I lost my hearing.

“It’s a really great thing you did for him, giving him a place to stay and a family.”

I lift one shoulder in a shrug. It never felt like I was extending him some courtesy. “I just did what he would have done for me.”

She nods slowly and then covers a small yawn.

“Are you tired?” I ask. Of course she is, it’s the middle of the night.

“Asthma attacks always leave me feeling like I could sleep for days but wired too. I usually recover by binge-watching TV, but it’s been a while since I had one in the middle of the night.”

“We could watch something if you want,” I offer.

“Do you usually stay up this late the night before a game?”

“No,” I admit. “But I told you, there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep now.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

She nods. “So…Total Recall? Unless you want to watch something else.”

“No. That sounds great.” I pull it up on my laptop and we move up to the top of the bed with our backs resting against the headboard and the computer between us. I feel like I was the one who had an attack with the way my adrenaline is crashing.

I’m tired but fidgety and all too aware of every move, every breath she takes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask when I spot her inhaler still in her hand like she might be fixing to use it again.

“Yeah.” She sets it aside.

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.

“Are you good with subtitles on?” I ask, hoping the movie calms down my nerves as much as hers.

“Yeah, of course.”

I’m grateful for the small accommodation. It saves me from turning it up so loud she’ll be running out of here.

It’s clear from the start of the movie that Sabrina is a person who talks through movies just like her brother. It’s reassuring in some ways and less awkward than sitting side by side on my bed in silence. And before long, I’m not thinking about her having another attack and instead enjoying her company.

She asks me my favorite movies, actors, TV shows; we even get into celebrity crushes. An hour into the movie, I’ve completely stopped watching the screen.

“My mom has a real thing for Keanu Reeves,” Sabrina says after we somehow get on the topic of favorite action movies. “I didn’t even know he did romantic comedies until I stumbled onto The Lake House.”

“Sandra Bullock.” I nod. “Saw that one.”

“You watched The Lake House?” she asks, clearly struggling to believe I would watch something that sappy.

“Oh yeah. I’ve seen everything Keanu. Did you see him in The Replacements?”

“No. Never heard of it.”

My jaw drops open. “You’re kidding me?”

“Nooo,” she drags out the word. “What’s it about?”

“Oh my gosh. It’s only one of the greatest football movies ever.” I sit forward, angling my body to face her, completely abandoning the screen.

She listens with rapt attention as I explain the story, including my favorite parts.

“Brogan and I must have watched it a hundred times.”

“I’ll have to check it out.”

“Tomorrow night after the game,” I say, then add, “If you want.”

“Yeah. That sounds fun.”

I realize then how much it sounds like a date. “I’ll ask Brogan. He’ll want to see your reaction the first time you see it.”

She keeps smiling and nodding, then covers her mouth as she yawns.

“Finally tired?” I ask.

“Yeah, and I should probably let you sleep since you have a game tomorrow.”

“I don’t have to be to the field until late morning, so I can sleep in.” And if I’m honest, I still don’t want her to go, and now it has nothing to do with being worried about her asthma.

She moves off my bed, stands and walks to the door. I follow after her, stopping when she steps into the hallway.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says, smiling. “It almost felt like we were friends for a couple hours.”

I open my mouth with the intent of explaining, or trying to, why I’ve been such an asshole, but she holds up a hand. “It’s okay. I get it. You don’t need to say anything. I’m grateful for tonight, even if it was a temporary truce.”

“I’ve been a jerk,” I say. “Nothing excuses that.”

She doesn’t correct me.

“I’m sorry. I would like a chance to get to know you,” I say, then add, “If you still want that.”

Her chin tips down and back up in a nod.

“Truce?” I extend a hand.

Her gaze flicks down to my outstretched palm and she hesitates a beat. All things considered, I don’t blame her.

When her slender fingers glide against mine, I do my best to ignore the heat climbing up my arm. She gives my hand one quick squeeze and then backs away.

Before she gets out the door, I call for her, “Hey, wait.”

She pauses, hand on the door jamb as she glances back. “Yeah?”

“Congratulations on the studio.”

One side of her mouth lifts first, then she aims one of those real smiles I’ve only seen her give other people at me. “Thanks, Archer.”