Page 105 of Someone to Have
“The flowers are really beautiful,” I tell Elise, suddenly desperate to change the subject.
“It’s because Uncle Eric calls her Tinkerbell instead of Tink,” Rhett offers. Why is this the moment the kid decides to get chatty?
“Tinkerbell?” My brother snickers while Elise’s mouth opens and shuts several times.
“I should head backstage.” I need to escape before anyone else digs too deep into a part of me I wanted to keep just for Eric.“It was really?—”
“Tink isn’t short for Tinkerbell,” Dad interrupts. “Son, you’ve got it backward. Tinky, didn’t you explain it?”
I want the ground to swallow me whole. Suck me down to a place far away from this circle of people I love and want to run from all at once. “No, Dad. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just…”
Hurt flashes in Eric’s eyes before he can hide it. I immediately regret the words because his nickname does mean something to me. It makes me feel special. The way he says it when?—
“Tink is how she pronounced Tank, which is what we called her as a toddler,” Dad explains.
I shoot a pleading glance at my sister, who’s staring at Eric like she’s never seen him before. When her gaze flicks to me, I’m not sure what she reads in my eyes, but she puts a hand on Dad’s arm.
“It was a silly nickname that stuck,” Elise says. “Dad, we should?—”
“She was a solid piece of work,” Dad continues, shaking her off. “And ran into everything.”
“Led with her head like a damn bull,” Toby adds with a chuckle.
“Like a tank.” Dad wipes at the corner of one eye, and I clench my jaw against the wave of mortification rising inmy throat. I’m not a little girl crashing into furniture anymore—but it sure feels like I’m falling.
“Cutest thing you ever saw.”
I can’t look at Eric. He thought I was some magical creature, but now he knows the truth. I’m a bulldozer in braids.
“Looked like she had a unicorn horn growing out of her forehead from all the faceplants. Most uncoordinated kid you ever saw. If she didn’t look just like her mother, I would’ve thought?—”
“Dad!” Elise yanks at his arm.
Toby makes a wheezing sound, and I glance over to see him laughing so hard he’s barely breathing.
“She was our little Tank. Still is. I saw you almost fall off the stage tonight,” Dad adds.
“It was a tiny trip,” I mutter, my humiliation growing at an exponential rate.
“Are you coming to my game tomorrow?” Rhett asks, blissfully oblivious to my embarrassment.
I refuse to meet Eric’s gaze. I’m sure he’s chuckling right along with Toby. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I’m used to the joke being on me, but tonight felt different.
This silly, ridiculous revelation about the origin of the nickname I’ve hated up until Eric made it his own reminds me why a guy like Bryan Connor is my type. What would a hockey god manwhore-with-a-heart want with me other than convenient, no-strings-attached sex?
“I’ll be there,” I tell Rhett. “But I’ve got to go now.” My voice trembles. “Thank you all for coming. It means a lot.”
I hurry backstage, but I duck into the prop closet instead of heading to the dressing room where I know the rest of the cast is gathered.
My safe space.
The door opens almost immediately after I shut it. I turn, half expecting to see Eric—wishing and hoping to see Eric.
Bryan enters the room, stepping toward me with a jubilant smile.
“We did it!” he exclaims, taking my hands. “I did it, Taylor. The audience loved the production.”
“It was a great opening night,” I agree while simultaneously wishing he would go away. “Congratulations.”
