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“I was not.”

He sits up on his elbow to look at me. His eyes are lively as they dance across my face, and I feel another surge of happiness. It’s so rare I can surprise him anymore. “You gonna leave me hanging?”

I nod toward his bathroom. “Not for long.”

He follows me into the bathroom and watches me rummage under the sink until I find scissors and his electric hair clippers. His arms are crossed, his expression a mix of skepticism and interest.

I gather all my hair into a high ponytail except for the bottom two inches above my neck. Then I look at Lorenzo in the mirror and hand him the scissors. “Chop the bottom off.”

He draws back in surprise, but when I don’t move, he takes the scissors. “I trust that if you’re fucking with me, you’ll stop me before it’s too late.”

“Go ahead. Short as you can.”

He meets my eye one more time and then takes a deep breath before cutting carefully through my hair. When it’s done, he brushes the hair off my bare back.

I hand him the clippers. “Now buzz it. Just like an undercut.”

“Did you get confused on the way to the bathroom? We’re talking about tattoos here, not haircuts.”

“I’m not confused.” I wiggle the clippers, urging him to take them. “See how much you like my weird and wild after this.” A wave of doubt washes over me when I think about what he’s about to see, but one look at his face and it disappears. Yes,weird and wild wouldn’t be inappropriate adjectives for what I did, but Lorenzo already knows who I am. And he loves me.

He nods at me in the mirror. The clippers click on, and his brow furrows in concentration as he slides them across the back of my neck. I shiver from anticipation and the buzz of the clippers. He makes one row, brushes the hair away, and starts on the second row.

I know the instant he sees the tattoo. His gaze catches and his hand pauses in its work. He stares at the back of my head. Does he recognize it? Then he blinks a few times, and the clippers move across my skin again, this time hurrying. The clippers click off and there’s silence. He sets them down and returns to my neck, brushing away the hair one last time.

The smile forms lopsided on his face, first the right corner of his lips and then the left. Like he needed time. Then he meets my gaze in the mirror.

“Love, Lorenzo,” he says, reciting the words inked into my skin.

I swallow. “Do you recognize it?”

“It’s my handwriting.” He draws a finger slowly across the tattoo, sending shivers through me.

“Remember the letters we used to write when I went to overnight camp?”

“I still have them.” He wraps his strong arms around my chest and drops his chin to my shoulder. “You always were my girl.” He presses his lips to the back of my neck and kisses the words. “Just took me a little while to let you in on the secret.”

epilogue

RUBY

Six Years Later

“I hopeyou didn’t forget the spicy chips,” I tell Lorenzo.

“I got you.” He sets down an overstuffed backpack and nods toward a plank near the far end of the dock. “Watch it, Hayes, that one’s loose. I see a cold dip in your future.”

Careful to avoid the loose plank, I settle down on the dock with my back against a post and open the backpack. We’re at 317, the old, abandoned place on the lake where Lorenzo and I spent so many hours as kids, and after days of rain, the air is thick with a wet, familiar algae scent. I take bags of chips and cookies from the backpack and reach for the plastic container at the bottom, fresh and cold from the ice pack I set underneath it. “Cheer up, honey. I didn’t forget you.” I hand him the container, a giant brussels sprouts salad with thin slices of seasoned chicken breast and rainbow veggies nestled on top.

Lorenzo smiles. “I thought you said nothing with fiber was allowed at our picnic. And here I was getting excited for a dinner of highly processed packaged snack foods.”

“Liar. You’d never risk that getting back to your players.”

Lorenzo is as dedicated to nutrition as ever—in fact, he’s made a career of it. After being drafted, he played three seasons in Denver before making the agonizing decision to hang up his cleats. He never managed to be injury-free for long, and the toll on his body grew tiresome. On top of that, being away from his family hit harder than expected, the Rossis growing only closer after the adoption secret came out. And as soon as he retired and moved back home, he put his head down and dove into his next goal. This spring, he completed his master’s in nutritional science and his dietetic internship, and in two weeks he’ll start his new job as assistant sports dietitian ... at Shafer of all places. No matter how hard we try to get away, we just keep ending up back where we came from.

“A bunch of college boys? They’d understand. Anything for a beautiful girl.” He sets the salad aside and bends over to kiss the top of my head before settling down across from me. For the dozenth time since we arrived, he glances back at the house.

“You’re just dying to go inside, aren’t you?” I accuse.