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Good. I lucked out. I don’t really want to see anyone other than my brother.
I skim through some of his books. I don’t have anything overly intricate in mind for today. Just a simple name.
Katelyn.
Nothing flowery or girly. Just her name. So she’ll always be with me, no matter what.
My brother walks through the door then.
His hair is blond, and it covers his ears. He never wore it quite as long as I did, but neither of us are clean-cut.
He looks me in the eye, and I can’t quite read his expression. Does he believe it’s me?
“Come on back,” he says gruffly.
Damn, his voice sounds so much like mine. Low and husky. Must’ve come from our mother’s side, because our father doesn’t sound anything like either one of us.
I stand, not glancing at the receptionist, and follow my brother.
“Where’s your client?” I ask.
“I sent him out the back door.”
“Good. Thanks.”
He stares at me, gazes into my eyes. “It’s really you, Trey?”
“Hair color and contacts,” I say.
“You motherfucker,” he says. “I thought you were dead.”
“I know. I’m sorry, bro.”
“Don’t even. Sandy and I were beside ourselves.”
“You were not.” I hold back a scoff.
“Okay, so we aren’t close. You’re still my fucking brother. You’re still Sandy’s brother. We thought you were gone forever.”
“I kind of thought I was too.”
“What the fuck, man? Where have you been?”
“It’s a long, boring story.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s long. But boring? Sell it to the Air Force. I’m not buying.”
“Look,” I say. “The less you know, the safer you are.”
“The old man helped you, didn’t he?”
I stay silent. I’ve no lost love for my father, but there’s no reason to finger him to his other son. At least not yet.
“I came in here to get a tattoo,” I say.
“You planning on paying me?”
“I’ll pay you whatever you want, Bas. It’s a simple woman’s name. That’s all.”
“A woman’s name on your skin, Trey?” He scoffs. “I don’t fucking believe it.”
“Yeah, well, things change.”
“Tell you what. I’ll tattoo a woman’s name all over the cheeks of your ass if you want. I won’t charge you a damned penny. Except…you need to level with me.”
“First, you’re not going anywhere near my ass. And second, I’ve got nothing to say.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
“You’re better off not knowing. You know that.”
He doesn’t reply for a minute.
Yeah, he’s thinking. He’s thinking I’m right, which I am.
“What are you doing back here?” he finally asks. “You’ve got to have a target bigger than the Titanic on your back.”
“You’re not wrong. But I’ve got some things to take care of. I’ve change, Bas.”
Another scoff from my brother.
That’s okay. I don’t expect him to believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me if I were him.
“Don’t make me tell you,” I say. “I don’t want you in danger. You or Sandy or Mom.”
“What about Dad?”
Tough call. What can I say? Having learned from Pollack that our father frequented Derek Wolfe’s Island, I’m not sure I care what happens to him.
Pollack could be lying, of course, but why would he?
“Our father’s not the man you think he is,” I say.
“I never thought he was some hero, Trey. You know that.”
“Yeah? Well, suffice it to say he may be worse than any of us ever thought.”
“I know who the bastard is,” Sebastian says. “I was the one left, remember? After you died—er, disappeared—he turned on me. I had to protect Sandy.”
Our sister, Alexandra—nicknamed Sandy—is five years younger than I am, and a year older than Sebastian. Even though she’s older, Sebastian felt responsible, protective. Kind of the way I always felt about our mother.
“Do you want an apology?” I ask. “I can apologize to the moon and back, but it won’t change what I did. Those years I was gone, leaving you and Sandy to fend for yourself.”
“I don’t need an apology from you, Trey. I got over that a long time ago. I just want to know where the fuck you’ve been.”
There is no easy answer to the question.
And even if there were, I can’t burden my brother with it.
“Just ink me, man.” I say. “Please.”
28
KATELYN
“You brought home a dog?” My mother shakes her head.
I let Jed out of his kennel, and he runs through the house, nearly knocking over one of my mother’s prized vases. I secretly wish the ugly thing were in pieces on the floor, but Jed misses it by a couple inches.
“You wanted me home,” I say. “I come with a dog now.”
My father ended up coming out of the coma while I was in flight, and now we’re waiting for the liver biopsy results. My father is good, but we won’t know whether he has cancer for another twenty-four hours yet.
“He can’t stay here,” Mom says.
“Then I won’t stay here,” I say. “Good enough.”
My mother purses her lips. A classic Farrah Lowenstein Brooks facial expression.
