Page 151 of The Way I Hate Him
Shit.
“Were you two fighting again?”
“Yes,” Mac says while Ryland and I both say no. “They’re lying. I saw that bad man we’re supposed to hate attack Uncle Ry Ry. He tackled him to the ground.”
“Seriously, Hayes?” Hattie asks. “What is wrong with you?”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t attack him. I was handing him flowers.”
“You were what?”
I catch my breath and lower my hand from my eye as I try to blink a few times, begging for it to work again. “I brought him flowers as a peace offering. See?” I hold up the flowers, but the bouquet sags to the side from the crush of two grown men’s bodies. “I thought it would be nice, but then I got fucking nervous trying to explain why I brought them, decided to just shove them into his chest so I didn’t say anything else stupid, wound up tripping over toys, and face-planted into Ryland’s nipple.”
“Right into the nipple,” Mac says, her arm jutting up.
“Don’t say nipple,” Hattie says.
“The bad man said it,” Mac argues.
“I’m not a bad man, I promise,” I say.
“He kneed me in the dick while on the ground,” Ryland says, the pain seeming to ease just enough for him to chime in.
“See?” Mac points at me. “I told you he was attacking Uncle Ry Ry’s dick.”
“Don’t say dick!” Ryland and Hattie say at the same time.
Hattie then presses her fingers to her brow. “Mac, please go upstairs and play in your room for a moment, okay?”
“Fine.” She grabs her horse stuffy, the half-mutilated bouquet, and heads toward the stairs. “I didn’t want to be here with the dick stuff anyway.”
“Jesus,” Ryland mutters before lying flat on the ground and taking a few deep breaths.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“No.” He drags his hands over his face. “You kneed me several times. I nearly threw up in front of Mac.”
“That would have been the icing on the cake.” Hattie moves over to the kitchen, pulls an ice pack from the freezer, and then tosses it at Ryland. “Here, ice your balls. I’ll get Aubree to come over and watch Mac while you nurse your manhood.”
“Nah, don’t bother her,” he replies while slowly trying to rise to his feet. When I notice him struggling, I get up, grip him under the arm, and aid him. He’s crouched over but standing now, so I help guide him to the couch where he sits, spreads his legs, and puts the ice pack right on his crotch. Not sure that will help, but when a man’s in that situation, we will pretty much do anything to make it better.
When I turn around, Hattie has her arms crossed, and she says, “So you’re telling me you accidentally tripped and fell into Ryland while handing him flowers, and while you were trying to get up, you kneed him in the dick?”
“Apparently, and in my defense, I was getting pummeled in the head over and over by your niece, so my vision was blurred, and my wits weren’t quite there.”
Hattie turns to Ryland. “Is this true?”
Ryland glances at me and then nods.
“I mean, if he just took the flowers, none of this would have happened,” I say in my defense.
“I wasn’t expecting to receive flowers from someone I haven’t talked to in over a decade, let alone a man who is supposed to be taking my sister out, not me.”
“It was a kind gesture,” I say, exasperated. “Can’t we just accept that? I brought some for Mac too.”
“Aw, really?” Hattie asks. “That’s cute.”
“So it’s cute when I bring them for Mac, but not for Ryland? Why can’t we be comfortable in our masculinity and accept flowers from another man?”
