By Chance

Chapter Nine : By Chance

Summer's POV

Brady follows me up the stairs and into the kitchen. "Smells amazing," he comments once we reach the top.

"It's just spaghetti," I inform him.

"Still better than anything I've eaten all week. Gracie was always the one to make the food back home," he tells me as he grabs two plates out of a cupboard.

"Did you all live together?" I find myself wanting to know everything about Brady. He seems to put up a happier front than he actually has. I want to know what caused him so much pain that he has to lie about how he feels, but I don't want to ask the wrong questions.

"Kaine and I have lived together our entire lives. A year ago Gracie joined us." He puts a mound of food on his plate.

"I'm guessing Gracie is Kaine's fiancé?" I ask even though I'm sure she is.

"Yeah, she is. Newly. He proposed the night I was at your mom's." He sits down at the table as I join him. "Want anything to drink?"

"Water is fine, thank you," I answer. Brady fills two glasses with ice and water and returns to the table, setting my water down in front of me.

"Okay, Summer. What do you want to know about me?" he asks me as he sits down to eat. "Anything you want to know, I'll answer it."

"Anything?" I ask surprised. I didn't think he'd let me ask him anything too personal, but if he's comfortable with answering, I might as well ask.

"Anything."

My mind flashes back to the tattoo on his left rib cage. Is it too personal to ask what it's for? He did say I could ask anything. Screw it, I'm just going to ask him. If he chooses not to answer, that's okay. "Your tattoo. What do those dates mean?" The pained look on his face makes me instantly regret the question.

"How do you know I have a tattoo?" he asks. He sounds confused rather than being upset at the personal question.

"I saw it when I was waking you up back in New Orleans," I explain. He just looks down and nods. "You don't have to answer that, obviously. I was just curious-"

"It's not that I care if you know what it's for, I just really don't want any more fucking pity than I already get, you know?" he asks. I really, really do know, Brady.

"I get that. A lot," I respond.

He looks amused. He cocks his head and crosses his arms. "How's that?"

"My dad ran a few days after I was born. It's not that he didn't love me or my mom, but he just loved drugs more, I guess. My mom said he was never fit to be a father, so instead of stick around and make me live with a drug-addicted dad, he left so I could escape that pain," he looks genuinely surprised. "Ever since then, I was always known as the poor little girl whose daddy ran off. The amount of pity I got everyday was unbearable," I finish, taking a bite of my spaghetti.

"Wow, I would have never guessed that. I understand that feeling, way too damn much."

"How's that?" I copy what he said to me seconds before.

Brady takes a deep breath. "I'm going to take my shirt off, but it's not because I'm trying to advance on you," he teases. I still feel terrible for accusing him of that... twice.

I give him an apologetic smile. "Ha-ha."

He smiles back as he stands up. He crosses his muscular arms in front of him and grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head. I can't stop myself from staring at his body. He sits back down and looks at me, my eyes wandering away from this torso before he can see me gawking.