Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)
Chapter 35

“Thanks for coming.” I get to my feet as Sabrina stands in front of the outdoor table. I decided meeting outside of the apartment might be easier and less awkward.

“Of course.” She clutches her purse to her side and takes a seat across from Archer. My best friend is glaring at my maybe sister.

“This is my friend, Archer,” I tell her. “Archer, this is Sabrina.”

“His brother,” Archer corrects me. He doesn’t usually care what I call him: friend, brother, teammate, but he’s staking a claim right now and while I replace it mildly amusing, Sabrina looks confused.

“Wait, did they put you up for adoption too?” She looks at me for answers and my throat tightens.

“No, they didn’t, but I went to live with Archer and his family when I was fourteen. He and his brothers took me in because things were bad at home.”

I take a drink of my water. This is going to be harder than I thought. I haven’t talked about my family in years, and of course she’s going to have questions.

“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, tipping my head to the inside café.

“Yeah, I think I’ll grab a coffee.” She starts to get up, but Archer pushes back and stands first.

“I got it,” he says tersely. Fuck. I hope he doesn’t spit in it. He pauses and it looks like it physically hurts him to ask, “Cream and sugar?”

“Yeah. Please.”

With a nod, he goes back inside, and Sabrina and I settle into our chairs.

“So…” My leg bounces under the table.

She places her hands on the table and taps her fingers. “So…”

Sabrina breaks first, smiling and then laughing. “This is awkward.”

“So awkward,” I agree.

“Look, I didn’t badger you for months because I thought we’d be automatic besties. I know this is a lot and you must be surprised to see me or to know I exist. I wasn’t sure until I started trying to contact you if you were even aware you had a sister, but I’m guessing now you didn’t know?”

“Definitely not. How’d you replace out?”

“My parents never kept it a secret from me that I was adopted, but it wasn’t until about six months ago that I started feeling like I might want to replace my birth mom and dad.”

“Did you replace them?” I ask. Maybe she hasn’t reached out to them yet and I can save her the heartache.

“I haven’t been in contact with them if that’s what you mean.”

I don’t know what I mean. This whole conversation is so bizarre.

“I sent a letter, but never heard back.” She shrugs. “Then I found you and I realized I cared less about them and more about knowing you. Maybe we didn’t grow up together or have the same circumstances, but I felt like I had to meet you. My parents are my parents, ya know, but a brother…” She trails off. “My parents didn’t have other kids, so I guess I liked the idea of having a sibling. I’m sorry. I’m not explaining it all very well. It just felt important that I meet you.”

Archer reappears and sets her coffee down on the table in front of her.

“Thanks,” she says.

“You look like our mom,” I tell her, then wonder if that’s a weird thing to say. Fuck, it’s all weird.

“I do?”

I nod. “She has red hair too and the eyes are Dad.” Hers are brown like mine.

“Does anyone else have asthma?”

“Not that I know of. Do you?” Am I allowed to ask that? I guess it’s too late to worry about it now.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. My doctor said it was probably genetic.”

“Maybe our grandparents did. I never met any of them. Mom’s parents died when she was young, and Dad didn’t talk to his family.”

“Seems like a common theme.”

I don’t know if she means it as a dig, but I feel a little judged. I guess it’s her family too so if she’s judging me, then she’s judging herself as well.

“Where did you grow up?” I ask.

“Flagstaff.”

All this time she’s been so close, and I had no idea.

“What do you do?” Archer asks. I’d forgotten he was here, but his hard tone reminds me that he is and he’s still not on board.

“I’m a dance teacher. Or I was. I really want to open up my own studio but first I have to figure out where I want to settle.”

“That’s cool. You dance?” A sister that’s a dancer. Each new detail feels like this secret puzzle.

“All my life.” She nods. “I played some other sports too. Never football though.”

That makes me grin, and the awkwardness between us starts to dissipate.

“I’ve been working at a night club as a cage girl while I’m here. Lilac Lounge. Do you know it?”

Archer nudges me and then signs. Did your secret sister just say she’s a stripper?

No. I glare at him as I sign.

“Sorry,” I say to Sabrina. “He was just making sure he understood what you were saying. Archer is deaf but he’s pretty good at reading lips.”

She looks at my best friend in the whole world. “I dance with my clothes on, but stripping is honest work and nothing to be ashamed of.”

My jaw drops, and Arch and I both stare at her in surprise.

“What? I know ASL.” Then she stops speaking and signs, If you are going to talk shit about me, you will have to replace another way.

A rough chuckle escapes my mouth. “Ignore him. He’s just overprotective.”

“I get it. My friends weren’t thrilled about me meeting up with some guy who might be my brother either, but I had to know.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say, and once the words are out, I know they’re true. It might have been a lot less lonely growing up if she’d been around. Maybe that can still be true.

“I’m driving back to Flagstaff this afternoon, but I’ll be back next week. I know I dumped a lot on you, so I’ll let you think about all of it and get back to me.” She smiles. “I promise not to pop up out of nowhere again, but I do think it’d be cool to spend some more time together, if you want.”

I scan the crowd as Archer and I walk out onto the field for the game. It’s early still. Only the hardcore fans are in their seats while the teams warm up.

My stomach churns when I don’t see her. I knew London wouldn’t be here. I asked for space and she’s given it to me, but it still hurts not to see her in her usual spot.

“The guys are here.” Archer turns and points toward a section where we often get seats for family and friends. Hendrick, Knox, and even Flynn are sitting side by side. When they see us looking, they all wave in unison. Flynn even sort of smiles.

I wave back, shocked.

“Did you tell them about Sabrina?” I ask, turning back to Archer and signing the question too.

“No way. That’s not my place. You can tell them when you’re ready.”

I’m relieved, though I can’t say why.

“I don’t understand then,” I say.

“What?”

“You’re not playing today, they don’t know about Sabrina…why are they all here?” I realize that sounds like I don’t want them here, which is never true. It’s just…it’s the first time we’ve all been in one spot since Flynn left for college. How is he even here? That’s a long-ass trip for a weekend visit.

“To cheer for you,” Archer says slowly like the answer is beyond obvious.

I can’t think of what to say. I know they all care about me, and maybe they just planned to come to a game anyway and decided not to cancel even though Arch isn’t on the field.

“Dude.” He grabs hold of my shoulder and squeezes. “They’re here for you. They love you. I love you.”

“I know and I appreciate it, but they should have waited until they could watch you play too. You are their brother.” I try to shrug out of his hold, but he won’t let me.

“Stop it. Stop acting like you aren’t just as important to them.”

I cock my head to the side. I’m not trying to play the pity card, but I’m not as important. I’m just not and that’s okay.

“This is what you do. You let people in but only to a point. Even me. You don’t have to be the happy, carefree guy all the time. You act like nothing ever bothers you, but I know better. I know shit with your family sucked and that you’ve done your best to bury it and never think of it, but it will eat you alive if you don’t. Let us be there for you. You are our brother. You’re one of us. You always have been, and you always will be.”

“I know what you’re saying, but I’m not. As much as I joke about being a Holland brother, as much as I have wished for it to be true my whole life, we’re not blood. It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not. And thank god for that.”

“You don’t get what I mean.” I try to think how to phrase it.

“I do though. My dad walked out on my family and your parents suck. Fuck blood. Fuck all that. Family is a hell of a lot more than DNA. You are one of us. If you’re not a Holland, then neither am I, because we are the same here.” He removes his hand from my shoulder and places it in a fist over his heart.

I swallow thickly and the back of my eyes burn.

I love you. He signs the words. You are my brother always.

He’s said similar things before, but the intensity in his face, the way they’re all here, the way they’re always here when I need them…it finally hits me how deeply he means the words.

“I love you too.” I grab him around the neck and hug him. I feel him relax under my embrace and then he squeezes me back.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I thought I was going to have to punch you.”

I laugh, a real honest to god laugh that makes my entire body feel lighter. When I pull back, I shove at his shoulder. “Try it and see what happens.”

He chuckles, looking a whole lot less stressed than I’ve seen him in a while.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I thought what he had with his brothers was different, but maybe that was just me keeping them at arm’s length. Not intentionally, of course, but deep down I guess as much as I have always wanted family, I was scared too.

“No. None of that. We’re good.” He tips his head toward the field. “Now go and kick some ass for the both of us.”

“Hold up.” Everything is almost the way it should be.

He pauses and his brows rise in question.

“Can you do one thing for me first?”

“That depends.” He squares off with me to hear what I have to say.

One word.

“London.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Tell me what you need.”