“What’s up?” he asked.
“Can I come over?”
The words were out before I could stop them, and I knew my coming over to his apartment was about to ruin whatever plans he had with Lincoln for the end of the night. I was about to open my mouth and take it back when he gave me a soft—if not worried—smile.
“Always, but what’s up?”
“I just?—”
He cut me off before I could elaborate, “Of course. No explanation needed.”
We said our temporary goodbyes and drove separately to Hunter’s apartment. After we both were inside and got our shoesoff, Hunter handed me a pair of pajamas to borrow, which I carried into the guest room. With the door closed behind me, I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the pants, realizing I couldn’t go back into the living room in just the shirt without my bandaged arm being front and center. I shrugged back into the hoodie, appreciating the warmth and the smell of it, then rejoined my brother in his living room.
“Did you want me to turn the heater on?” he asked.
I shook my head, and Hunter handed me the remote. We collapsed together on his couch, and I found a series to binge. It was hours from when we sat down to when Lincoln got home, and even though at dinner I’d been more than ready to call it a night, I found the relaxation of being on Hunter’s couch just as rejuvenating as sleep. Lincoln gave me a hello kiss against the corner of my mouth, a better kiss to Hunter, and then the two of them were off to bed.
I stayed on the couch a bit, then decided it was time to pack it in. I turned everything off and went into the bedroom, finally peeling off Riggs’s hoodie but not straying far from it. With the hoodie on top of the pillow, I laid down on my side and closed my eyes, but my swollen arm made it impossible to get comfortable.
With a yawn, I flung my legs out of bed and stood, heading for the bathroom where I knew Hunter kept a bottle or five of pain reliever. I’d also forgotten to brush my teeth and the stale taste of the day mixed with wine from dinner and the silence of my TV time with Hunter wasn’t making it any easier to settle in. For good measure, I took my phone with me, realizing for the first time since the afternoon that I had an unread text message from an unknown number that, upon further review, turned out to be Riggs. He’d piggybacked on the thread where I’d sent him the inspiration for my arm, and I frowned down at the message.
Unknown
I probably shouldn’t have let you leave just now, but can you let me know you’re okay?
Something tight tangled together and wrapped around my ribs. I didn’t trust myself to answer him, even though it was the right thing to do. Without looking up, I swiped my hand up the wall to turn on the light so I didn’t crash into anything on my way to the bathroom, and in doing so, walked directly into my brother, who I’d assumed was still in bed with Lincoln.
“You good?” he asked.
His voice surprised me more than the sight of him, and I nearly dropped my phone. I managed to save it at the last minute, pressing it against my chest before it fell out of my hands and onto the ground.
“You startled me. I was just going to brush my teeth.” I gestured weakly toward the bathroom, the saran wrap around my forearm crinkling with the movement. I watched Hunter’s eyes widen as his stare fell from my face to my arm.
“Smith,” he said slowly, hand raised like he was about to try and physically push me back into the wall. “When the fuck did you get a tattoo?”
I blinked down at my arm. “Earlier today,” I said.
“The hoodie?” he asked me again.
“Borrowed it,” I confessed.
The hurt that flashed across my brother’s face was impossible to miss.
“I’m sorry I lied,” I said quickly, pulling my lip between my teeth. “I didn’t want to talk about it at dinner.”
“Do you want to talk about it now?”
I sucked in a deep breath, holding it until my lungs ached as much as my forearm.
“No,” I said.
“Do you need to?”
I dropped my cell phone into the pocket of my borrowed pajamas and shrugged.
“Come on,” Hunter said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hall and back into the living room. He shoved me down onto the couch and told me not to move, then he went back to his room. Five minutes later, Hunter sat down on one side of me, Lincoln on the other. Lincoln rested his head on my shoulder and held his hand out between us, palm up.
“What did you do?” he asked me, curling his fingers around my wrist and pulling my arm toward his face.
