Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15) (4 page)

She has five slash scars across her wrist.

“
What did you use
?” I talk with one hand while I hold her wrist with the
other.

“
The jagged edge of a broken mirror
.”

A tear rolls down her cheek.

“
Please don
’
t tell anyone
.” She’s pleading with her eyes.

I let her hand drop and take her face in my hands so I can look into her eyes. And then I use my voice. I don’t speak often because I’ve been told I’m very hard to understand. But for her, I’ll do it. “I won’t say a word.”

I swipe her tears away with my thumbs,
just like I did in the tattoo shop. I have a sudden and irresistible urge to kiss her.

She jumps and looks toward the door. Someone must be knocking. I hand her glove back to her and she pulls it on and up.

She grabs my shirt and pulls me to face her. “Promise you won’t tell.” I have to read her lips because her hands are clutching my shirt tightly.

“
I promise
,” I tell her.

She looks doubtful.

“
You can trust me
,” I say.

She heaves out another sigh. “
Okay
.” She nods. “
Thank you for the sandwich
.”

“
Will you go out with me
?” I suddenly ask.

Her eyes narrow. “
Why
?”

I shrug. “
Why not?
”

“
When you can come up with a better reason, ask me again, okay
?” she says. She’s being sarcastic. I can tell by the way she’s holding her body.

She goes to the door, opens it and slips through, and I
see two big men waiting for her in the hallway, so I know she’s okay. It’s not until five minutes later that I realize she was wearing my cap when she left.

Fuck.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out.

Samantha:
Were you just with a Zero?

Me:
Why is that your business?

Samantha:
Are you kidding? Zero!

Me:
Again, none of your business.

Samantha:
You still hate me?

Me:
I’d have
to care in order to hate you.

Samantha:
Cold

I don’t respond to her after that and she doesn’t either. I do text Friday Reed, though.

Me:
Do you have Lark’s phone #?

Tatted Bombshell (She put her phone number and name in my phone herself.):
Why do you want it?

Me:
Why do you care?

Tatted Bombshell:
Are you being serious right now?

Me:
She has my cap. I need to get it back.

Tatted Bombshell:
I’ll text her and let her know.

Me:
Why can’t you just give me her number?

Tatted Bombshell: She
might not want you to have it.

Me:
Then she can tell me that.

Tatted Bombshell:
I’ll give her your number. Now go away. Bye.

I have two tattoo appointments this afternoon, so I can ask Friday again in person. I really want my cap back. But even more than that, I want Lark’s number. And I can’t
figure out why. She’s not my kind of woman. Not in any way that counts.

Ten minutes later, I get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number:
If you ever want to see your baseball cap alive again, meet me at the Italian restaurant near Reeds’ at 8 pm.

I chuckle to myself.

Me:
Why?

She sends me a picture of my cap tied to a string, and she’s dangling it over the balcony of her apartment.

Unknown number:
I’ll drop it. I will. You have ten seconds to make your decision. Meet me or the cap gets it.

Unknown number:
10

Unknown number:
9

Unknown number:
8

Unknown number:
7

Unknown number:
6

Me:
Okay okay. I’ll meet you.

Unknown number:
Good.
Then your cap is safe. For now.

Me:
I’ll see you AND MY CAP at 8.

Unknown number:
Don’t be late or the cap will pay the price.

Unknown
number:
And you’re buying.

I add her number to my contacts and give her a name: Pretty Cap Thief.

Then I delete it and add a different one: Hot Cap Thief.

Then I delete it again and use: Lark McCapSnatcher

I catch myself smiling like a fool and swipe a hand down my face. Then I make another sandwich and go back to work. Still smiling like a fool.

Lark

I knock on my sister Wren’s bedroom door and wait for her to call out to me so that I can enter. She doesn’t answer. I know she’s here. Her purse is on the hall table. Then I hear the creaking of her bedsprings and I step back from the door.

Wren has been in a steady relationship for a couple of months now, so the sex happening isn’t what bothers me. It’s who she’s with. I hate him with
the fire of a thousand suns. He’s not good enough for her, and Wren is the only one who doesn’t know it.

The sex part doesn’t bother me. Hell, when Finny lived here, there was a constant parade of one-night stands in and out the door. Beds creaking gently was the smallest worry. It was usually the wall-banging, screaming, and then a grunted orgasm that got to me. But not the way a casual observer
might think. Actually I was jealous as hell.

When I told Ryan I was a tattoo virgin, that was the least of my admissions. I am a twenty-three-year-old real life
virgin
. My chastity belt is the scars on my arms. I can’t get comfortable enough with a man to take my gloves off, and I hate the idea of being intimate with someone to whom I can’t show all of myself.

Ryan saw more of me today than
anyone I’ve ever met. Well, aside from my sisters, and our parents Marta and Emilio. They adopted all of us, and I was twelve when they got me. They adopted us all at the same time.

“Five little girls all at once,” Emilio would grumble when he was frustrated by us. “What the fuck was I thinking?” Then he would grin and pull out one of his many instruments and we would start to play with him.
He would forget all the bad shit we did, and we would bond over Led Zeppelin and White Snake covers. He would forget that our long hair clogged the shower drain, or that the downstairs bathroom overflowed with feminine hygiene products.

Wren’s door opens and she slips out. Her boyfriend nods at me and I flip him the bird in response. He doesn’t stop to talk, but he goes out the door.

“I wish
you would at least try,” Wren says as she opens the refrigerator door.

“I did try. The first time he cheated on you. And the second. Now my give-a-damn is busted.” I toss up my hands. “I got no more fucks to give.”

Wren growls and sinks down on a barstool.

“I hope you used a condom. No telling what kind of shit he’s carrying around.”

“Of course I used a condom.” She blows out a frustrated
breath. “Is this how it’s going to be every time he comes over? If so, I’ll just find somewhere else to live.”

“If that’s what you want,” I bite out.

“Okay then,” she says on a heavy breath.

“You can’t force me to like him.”

“I know.” She gets up to return to her room. At the door, she looks back at me over her shoulder. “Did you need something?”

I need to talk to her about Ryan and the way
that he found out about my suicide attempt. I need to talk to her about my interest in him and his complete disinterest in a girl like me. And I want some advice about what to wear tonight when I meet him.

“No,” I say instead. “I didn’t need anything.”

Her eyes go soft. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I stomp to my room and slam my door a little too hard.

I wanted to show her the tattoo I got
today. I wanted to show her how Ryan put my parents’ rings in them without me even having to ask him. I wanted to show her how damn special the whole thing was, and how beautiful he made it. But I didn’t get to show her anything.

I roll my gloves down and pull them off. Then I walk to the mirror and uncover my new tattoo, gently removing the plastic wrap Ryan put on me. The seagulls are perfect.
I can’t wait to see what else he comes up with.

I first started wearing the gloves because I couldn’t stand looking in the mirror and seeing the evidence of the way I destroyed my family and killed my parents. It hurt every time I had to see the scars. But now, they’re going away, and I couldn’t be happier.

I look up at Ryan’s Skyscrapers baseball cap and tug it low over my eyes. I wonder why
he wants it back so badly. I toss it onto the bed and go get in the shower.

When I get dressed, I do it with the knowledge that someone will be looking at me who knows my secret already. I don’t have to work so hard to hide it. And I leave home feeling freer than I have in a very long time.

Ryan

She takes my breath when she comes around the corner. She’s wearing a blue jean skirt and a shiny,
loose-fitting top. She has white gloves pulled up past her elbows, although one side is riding a little lower than the other and I see the tattoo I did this morning. Her brown hair is loose around her shoulders and her dark brown eyes sparkle at me.

“
Hi
,” she says. She smiles and ducks her head.

“
Is my cap safe
?” I ask. I look at the tiny purse she has clutched in her hand.

“
It
’
s safe
,” she
says. “
For now
.” She grins at me and my heart jolts.

I look at the seagulls I tattooed on her arm. “
I like you with ink. We should add a lot more
.”

She smiles. “
I like that idea
.” She nods toward the restaurant. “
Are you hungry
?”

I shrug. “
I could eat
.” Truthfully, I am starving. I haven’t eaten since the sandwich I had this afternoon. “
What about you
?”

She nods. “
You
’
re buying. Of course I
’
m hungry
.”

“
Who said I was buying
?” I am, but still.

“
You want to see your cap again, right
?”

I nod. “
I do
.” I open the door and motion for her to precede me into the restaurant. The wind catches her shirt as we go through the door and blows it up, and I get a peek at her flat belly. And…my dick gets hard. Oh, shit. This is really, really bad.

We follow the waitress to our table, and Lark slides
into one side of the booth and I take the other. I am sincerely grateful for the table between us. The waitress leaves two menus and walks away.

A group of teenagers at a nearby table all take their phones out and start snapping pictures.

“
I
’
m sorry
,” she says. “
By the end of the night, you
’
ll be known as the hot guy I
’
m fucking on the down low in all the tabloids
.”

I shake my head like a dog
shaking water from its fur. “
I
’
m sorry, but all I got from what you just said was that you think I
’
m hot and we
’
ll be fucking later
.”

Her face turns bright pink and she looks away bashfully.

“
That
’
s not what I meant
,” she says.

“
So you don
’
t think I
’
m hot
?” I tease.

She finally smiles. “
No, I do
,” she rushes to say, her fingers working quickly.

I grin. “
Good. I think you
’
re pretty hot too.
S-M-O-K-I-N-G
,” I spell out with my fingers, and then I blow the tips of them like they’re on fire.

Her smile grows and the flush on her cheeks moves all the way down her chest. “
Thank you
,” she says tentatively.