Hector (Season One: The Ninth Inning #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

that?”
    “Of course. If you’re going to tell me you don’t believe in that kind of thing, then I may just have to draw the line.” I joke, chuckling.
    “I don’t have a true opinion on it. I don’t have a lucky charm. I’ve never had one for that matter.”
    “I’m considering no opinion better than not believing. It’s really more of a ritual/habit type thing, I guess.” I’m not like Felix who has a human lucky charm and persuades her to come to every game. But I do things a certain way and make sure I always have my necklace.
    “Ha, well if that’s the case, then maybe my tattoos are my lucky charms.”
    “Oh, yeah, maybe so. They all tell a story, right? Tell me one.” My eyes automatically roam over the skin I can see.
    “Um…” She looks down at her arms and I wonder if she ever forgets they’re there or if she forgets for a second where a particular one is located. I’m so used to wearing my necklace, sometimes I forget it’s there. Sort of the same thing, right?
    “Well,” Zoey begins, “this arm is a tribute to Aunt Lanny. That’s why there are so many flowers and trees. She loves her flower gardens and anything to do with nature. I started it when I was twenty. This arm is for Aunt Minnie. She’s the artist and loves to shop and make jewelry. The veins connect around everything and roses show her love for Aunt Lanny and me. It’s hard to tell someone thank you for giving up their lives to raise you. This way they know how much I love them and how grateful I am for them,” she finishes with a touch of sadness, likely thinking of her parents now.
    “That’s amazing.” And I truly mean it. I’m fascinated by how every single ink has meaning for her, especially considering how many there are. I have trouble deciding what to eat every day, I could never decide what I would want on my body, what would be so important to me that I’d want to tattoo it on my body for my entire life. “Why are the roses for you too? Are they your favorite?”
    She slightly blushes. “Yes. Roses are my favorite. Aunt Lanny grows them and I used to help her. When I was little, she gave me a rose bush to take care of. I was so damn excited when that first bud popped up.” She shies away as if she said something embarrassing.
    I smile at her. “I think after hearing these stories, I’m even more of a fan of your tats now. It seems like they hold so much of who you are and the memories you have.”
    “I think of my skin as a canvas. Strange, I know, but I like my art on display.” She gives me a small smile. I can’t help thinking that I like her art on display, too.

 
     
    I STAND IN front of my blank, white canvas shaking my head. How the hell does he do that? The night at the diner with Hector is still spinning around my head. He got me to open up to him while barely lifting a finger.
    I’m not a person who’s closed off, but I’m not one to vomit all my feelings onto a counter for the world to see. Hector is different. I spilled my guts to him and told him my life story, and I didn’t even realize I’d done it until I was home in bed.
    The charcoal I sketched the night Hector and I were on the phone sits on the other easel. I remember being on the phone with him, but my mindless sketching ended up being a massive tree with deep roots in the ground. The trunk is hard and thick. It’s strong, as if a tornado couldn’t even pull it up. The branches curve and twist through each other and up into the sky. I didn’t put leaves or any accents on it. It’s only the black of the charcoal and shading of my fingers. I’m not sure why I even created a tree.
    I tilt my head to the left and then the right to see if the new angle will tell me what the hell I was thinking. But nothing comes of it. The loud knock brings me out of my insane thoughts about the tree and I walk to the door.
    “Aunt Minnie.” I smile. “What are you doing?”
    She smiles and holds up two bags of groceries. “Thought my