Page 21

“We’re not leaving till you talk,” Lane threatened.

I walked to an empty weight bench as Lane climbed out of the ring after me. I raked my hand through my wet hair. Where did I even begin?

“Remember Sawyer from the search the other day?”

Both of the guys wore shocked expressions as they glanced at each other. It had been at least eight years since I’d brought up a woman to them.

“Uh yeah, man. She’s not the kind of girl you forget,” Lane, the constant flirt, broadcasted.

I briefly wished I would have connected my fist to his pretty boy face a few more times while boxing.

“She used to live here,” I explained.

“There’s no way, man. I wouldn’t forget her,” Lane scoffed. I clearly should have let my fist connect more with his face.

“Really? I don’t remember her.” Jonah ran his thumb under his bottom lip in thought. His tattoo sleeve was on full display in his cut t-shirt.

“She’s six or seven years younger than us; I doubt we ever would have crossed paths, but she knew Abel.” At that, Lane’s knee, which he’d been absentmindedly bouncing, stopped. The air was sucked from the room.

“What?” Jonah wheezed out.

Abel wasn’t only my little brother. He was a little brother to all of us. We all lost someone that day, and the gut reaction of loss would never leave. You couldn’t fill the space of Abel in our lives, because no person or thing could occupy the space where his light used to be. His memory resembled a prism of light. It couldn’t be captured or contained because every recollection we had, he was a part of that too. His light made me think of Sawyer. Something told me I’d do whatever I could to stay in the warmth of her light, too.

“Yeah, she was only here for a semester, I think, but Abel gave her our grandpa’s military tags.”

“My man laying claim even as a young grasshopper.” Lane gave a watery laugh. He used humor to cover the things he kept buried. George would have a field day with him.

“Did she know who you were?” Jonah asked. I spent the next ten minutes explaining my day yesterday, hopefully without sharing too much. The abuse Sawyer suffered was her own story and not mine to tell.

“Why’d she leave?” Lane asked.

“She went to live in another foster home,” I answered.

“Man,” Lane drew out.

“I think that might have been for the better,” I hedged, as I took another sip from my water bottle.

“Now that I think about it, something does seem slightly familiar about her,” Lane considered, then continued, “You gonna ask her out?”

Lane, ever the flirt.

“I told her I wanted to get to know her as a friend.”

That brought a hyena laugh from Lane, and even Jonah’s mouth tugged into a smile. I was sure to get razzed for that.

“My dude. Let me give you some tips for the ladies.” Lane threw an arm over my shoulders, leaning in as if he was going to share a secret. I shrugged his sweaty arm off and grabbed my wraps, water bottle, and towel.

“I don’t need your pretty playboy tips. It’s been awhile, but I know women. I’m not sure Sawyer is looking for anything, and I’m not sure I am either. Who knows? She might already have someone,” I stated, even though I knew it wasn’t true according to her friend Talia.

“You think I’m pretty?” Lane batted his eyelashes, his hand under his chin as if he was trying to show his best angles. Jonah and I rolled our eyes, familiar with his antics.

“But you’re interested?” Lane asked, bobbing his head, mirroring a doggy on a dashboard.

“I’m not not interested, I don’t know. She seems . . . ”

“Beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous. Sexy as hell,” Lane quipped. Jackass. Jonah rolled his eyes again.

“Hey! Keep your slimy eyeballs off her.” I tossed my sweaty towel in the bucket.