Page 103 of Fight For Me

“The Ransome boys. Call them up. They’re good in a fight.”

He’s full on grinning now. “We’re fighting someone?”

“Scott! Let’s go kick his ass!”

My dad actually laughs, and I know everything is going to be okay between us. He stands and holds out a hand to pull me up from the table. “I know a better way to channel your anger.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Let me introduce you to the benefits of stress baking.”

Wyatt

Uncle Daltrey let me crash at his place. Actually, insisted would be more accurate. After I showed him the video clips and we went over everything, he pushed me towards the stairs to the basement. There’s a full guest suite down there for when Aunt Daisy’s dad comes to visit, so I had decent privacy for a few hours of sleep.

It was cowardly. I know that. But the thought of going back to my parents’ place, where I’d been staying since we moved out of the condo, seemed unbearable. I couldn’t stand the thought of the disappointment I knew I would see on their faces. So instead of manning up, I texted my dad to tell him where I was and ask him to have CeCe make sure George went out before bed.

Fuck, I can’t even think about the dog. Every time I do, my heart starts to thud out of control and my skin gets all clammy. Is this what a panic attack feels like?

I wake up early and take off before Daisy or my cousins are up. Again—giant coward. Instead of going back to the house, I drive around aimlessly for a while, trying to figure out what in the hell I’m going to do next.

Things had been up in the air since we left the condo. If I’m being honest with myself, I was waiting to see what Alex decided about the second season before I made any decisions. I still have quite a bit of physical therapy to go, but I’d be lying through my teeth if I said that’s the reason I’ve been reluctant to go back to Seattle.

The truth is, I wanted to stay here. I wanted to stay where Alex was. When I pictured my next living situation, she was always there. In my imagination, we looked for a place together.

Such a stupid asshole.

I end up at the beach in Santa Monica. The sand is almost deserted at the early hour, a few people out walking. I count a couple surfers dotting the horizon, trying to get a head start on some waves. I think about surfing and Santa Barbara and Alex and it suddenly gets hard to breathe.

Maybe I should just go back to Seattle now. I can find a decent physical therapist up there. Eventually I’m going to need to go through everything at my grandparent’s place, though thinking about that also makes it hard to breathe. Still, getting out of here might be the best course of action.

Because you’re a coward.

If I leave, it will give things a chance to blow over. Maybe the next time I come home, some of their anger and disappointment will have faded a little. Maybe Alex will have moved on, found someone else—

I bury my head in my hands, unable to even complete that thought without feeling like my chest is going to shatter.

I don’t know how long I sit there in the sand, watching the waves come in, trying not to think. It starts to get warmer as the sun rises higher in the sky, and more and more people arrive.

A couple strolls past, an energetic beagle darting around ahead of them. I watch as the dog runs out to the surf, sniffs at the water, then starts splashing around. The couple laughs before calling him back to continue their walk.

God, I’m so stupid. I only have a short amount of time left with George. The owner suggested that we meet this afternoon so he can confirm it’s definitely his dog. That only gives me a few hours before I have to say goodbye and I’m sitting here like a moody teenager while he’s at an unfamiliar house without me.

Besides, I’m going to have to face my family eventually. Maybe I’ll lay the groundwork about going back to Seattle now, so my dad doesn’t freak out about it when I take off.

There’s only one car in front of my parents’ house when I get there. Will’s truck. I sigh, trying to dredge up some strength for the argument I know is coming, and head inside.

“Where have you been?” he asks harshly when I walk through the door.

I raise an eyebrow. “Am I required to run my schedule past you, little brother?”

He glares, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “What the fuck was that last night, Wyatt? Taking off? Leaving Alex alone?”

“I didn’t leave her alone. I left her with her best friends.”

“You know what I fucking mean.”

I rub at my suddenly pounding head. “You mind if I get some coffee before this interrogation?” I push past him to the kitchen before he can respond. He follows me. Heaven forbid anyone in this family ever let something drop for five minutes.