Page 44 of Fight For Me

I’d been hoping spending some time with the family might get my mind off her, but I’m not having much luck so far. My mom keeps looking at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Like she’s waiting for me to freak out, or something. I’m not sure if that has to do with my surgery or my grandparents or what, but she can definitely tell that I’m not doing great.

And if I know my mother, it’s only a matter of time before she makes me talk about it.

Luckily, I avoid that for the rest of the afternoon. CeCe is a little ball of energy when the game is over, completely unable to sit still and insisting we recap every single play over ice cream. I can’t talk about serious shit with my mom even if I wanted to because my little sister doesn’t let any of us get a word in.

Back at the house, we find Violet, Ash, Cadence, and Vega all sitting in the kitchen drinking sodas. My parents barely bat an eye at the appearance of four kids who don’t belong to them all waiting in their house. It’s probably more unusual tonothave random Ransomes hanging around.

The kids catch sight of George at my side and all freak out, immediately gathering around to pet him. George just looks up at me with that baleful expression I’ve gotten used to, as if to ask why he must endure all these small humans talking so loud right in his face.

“I see we’ve been invaded by the Littles yet again,” Dad says, tousling Vega’s hair on his way to the fridge to grab us a few beers.

“Don’t call us that,” Vega snaps, smoothing out the sleek black curls he messed up. Vega is a perfect clone of her big sister Everly, who in turn is a perfect clone of their mother. All four of Paige and Reed’s kids look pretty much identical. It’s kind of freaky.

Vega is giving my dad a decidedly un-Paige like glare right now.

“Since when are we not supposed to call you the Littles?” I ask, just to rile her up some more. They all bitch about the nickname, but the youngest members of the family have been collectively known as the Littles since they were born within a few months of each other. The five of them have been tight since they were in diapers. It’s very rare to see one of them without at least one or two of the others close by.

“Since always,” she says, turning her glare to me. “But especially now that we’re grown up.”

“You’re thirteen,” my dad laughs. “That’s hardly grown up.”

“We prefer to be called the Fierce Five,” CeCe says haughtily, but the goofy face she’s making at George kind of ruins the effect. “It better reflects the spirit of our personalities.”

“That’s cute,” I say, grinning at my dad. “Aren’t they cute?”

“Adorable,” he says, and we laugh at the outcry of protest from the kids.

“Let’s go outside,” Dad says, holding up the beers. “Let the Littles get up to whatever fierceness they have planned.”

From the look on CeCe’s face, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad finds honey in his shoes later or something. The girl can be pretty ruthless when she’s annoyed, and everyone knows she’s the ring leader of their little gang.

We sit on the patio and crack our beers, George settling at my feet as we watch the horizon turn pink and golden. “Don’t get many sunsets like that in Seattle,” Dad muses. “With all that rain.”

“Real subtle there, Dad.”

He laughs. “I won’t get on your case now. But you know at some point we’re going to discuss all the reasons you should make this move permanent.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“You seeing anyone since you got here?”

Of course, Alex’s face flashes in my mind, and I have to take a long sip of my beer in order to ignore the way my stomach drops. “Nope.”

“Leave behind a bunch of broken hearts in Seattle?”

I groan. “You are such a meddling busybody, you know that?”

He holds up his hand. “I’m just asking. You haven’t brought anyone home in a while.”

Yeah, because I haven’t seen anyone in a while. The last really serious girlfriend I’d had was in college. Francine was in the vocal music department and had grand plans to be a famous opera singer—which fit, since she was the biggest drama queen I’d ever met. She was also gorgeous and talented and had this way about her that just drew everyone in. My mother hated her on sight, but I was too caught up in Francine’s orbit to care. We broke up after graduation, when I’d refused to go to Italy with her to start our careers in Europe. After it was over, I’d been surprised by how much more peaceful life felt without her constant ups and downs.

Post-Francine, I’d been too busy working my ass off to get established in the industry to focus much on dating. It had been pretty much short flings, a few making it past the couple month mark, even fewer making it to the meet-the-parents mark. Ever since I fucked up and kissed Alex two years ago, I’d thrown myself into casual hook-ups, hoping to keep my mind off her.

Ask me how well that worked.

We’re quiet for a few minutes before Dad clears his throat. “Your mom is worried about you.”

“Because I haven’t brought anyone home?” I ask incredulously.