Page 82 of Trust Again

“Sweetie…”

“If you’re going to put yourself down again, I’ll cover my ears.” I put my hands over my ears and started humming a random melody to make my point.

He opened his mouth but I couldn’t hear him. His grip was gentle but firm as he reached out and moved my hands.

“That’s one of Livvy’s favorite songs,” he said.

“I have no idea what song that is,” I responded quietly.

“I think it’s from the first part ofHigh School Musical.”

“Oh.”

He grinned. He actually grinned. With his mouth, his eyes and his whole face.

“You crazy girl,” he murmured and pulled me close.

Together we sank into the pillows, arms wrapped around each other, Spencer’s chin on my head.

I closed my eyes. “Tell me more about Livvy.”

“She’s basically like any other 14-year-old girl. She loves cheesy movies; her current favorite isPitch Perfect. She likes boy bands even more than you do, which is why I know almost all the songs on your iPod by heart. During physical therapy I used to sing to her a lot and she made me memorize all of One Direction’s songs. She was kind of sad when Zayn left to do his own thing, but she likes his music and wants to continue supporting him. Oh, and she’s into that weird nail polish where you put two coats on, and the top layer crackles.”

I laughed into his chest.

He put his hand on my lower back and idly drew small circles with his thumb. “Lately, I’ve been collecting ideas for her birthday.”

Blinking, I looked up at him. “When is it?”

“In two weeks. I have no idea what 15-year-old girls like. Fifteen somehow sounds kind of grown up. I could live with 14, that’s definitely ‘girl’ territory. But 15 sounds… I don’t know.”

“What are you thinking of getting her?”

His eyes sparkled. “I’d love to buy her concert tickets, but Mom wasn’t so keen on the idea. She only started letting me go to concerts when I was 16.”

“What I wouldn’t have given to have had a brother who would take me to concerts.”

“I can take you to concerts,” he said, and I grinned into his shirt.

“I wouldn’t want Olivia to get jealous.”

“We can just wait till she’s 16 and then go as a group.”

“All right, deal.”

Over the next hour he told me about his sister, and in such detail that his love for her was more than evident. Talking got easier for him by the minute. And it was good to be there for him. To learn his secrets. To understand him better.

Eventually, as his breathing grew slower, he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m tired.”

I stroked his belly. “Then sleep.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to go home alone.”

In the long pause that followed, I felt his heartbeat and took stock of my own feelings. Nothing but warmth. No anxiety. No fear.

“I’d rather stay with you,” I whispered.

For a while he just lay there. Then, as if he’d just understood my words, he wrapped his arms around me even tighter and buried his face in my hair.