Page 5 of Fight For Me

I want to turn to her, want to soak in her features, but I know if I allow myself even a moment of drinking her in, I’ll end up doing something stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time when it comes to Alex.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. I should tell her to go inside. It’s wet and cold out here and she’s not dressed for it. Her black dress has long sleeves but the material looks thin and she’s not wearing a jacket. But I can’t seem to make myself say the words.

“I wish I would have known them,” she says suddenly.

“My grandparents?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her nod. “Will always talked about how amazing they were.”

“They were. You would have liked them.” It’s ridiculous how easily I can picture Alex with my grandmother. And even more ridiculous how painful it is to know that’s never going to happen.

“Will you tell me something about them?”

“Like what?”

She shrugs. “Whatever you want. A nice memory. Just tell me one thing about why all those people in there loved Bruce and Alice so much.”

“Did your mom or dad ever tell you that my grandparents helped raise me?”

I don’t know why I say it. I should keep to something light, some happy nice memory, like she said. But I find myself not wanting to bullshit Alex. She asked for something real.

Alex is quiet for a moment, like she has to think about it. “I don’t specifically remember hearing it from my parents,” she finally says. “But Will has definitely talked about it before.”

Of course he has. Because my younger brother is the same age as Alex. She’s one of his best friends. He—along with the rest of my siblings—consider her family. To Will and Silas and everyone else, Alex is just another cousin to love, no different from the rest.

And that’s just one of the many reasons I’m not allowed to feel the way I do about her.

I’ve spent so long trying to justify it to myself, to find some way out of the guilt that consumes me whenever I think of her—which happens way too damn much, even from a thousand miles away. Alexandria Fraser is not my cousin. We’re not related by blood or by marriage. Her dad is my dad’s best friend—mystep-dad’sbest friend, to be technical.

But I know that’s just an excuse. I consider the Ransomes my family and the Ransomes consider Alextheirfamily. Having these feelings about her is completely inappropriate.

Right?

I’ve tried to convince myself it isn’t over and over again. But even when I manage to believe that, there’s an even bigger issue. Alex was twenty that day I came home and realized she was a completely different person from the kid I had overlooked for years. She’s not twenty anymore, but she’s still eleven years younger than me.Eleven.She’s barely started her adult life yet while I’m a jaded asshole who’s likely approaching the end of his music career. There’s no way her parents—or the rest of the family—would be okay with her dating a man my age. Especially not when that man is me.

But even though I know all that—God do I know it, those facts have been haunting me for years—I still can’t make myself drop her hand. Just like I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her the night I realized home had become a dangerous place.

I shake off thoughts of that night and our one perfect kiss because I cannot go down that road when she’s sitting so close. “What did Will tell you?” I ask instead.

Her voice is steady, calm. “He said when your biological father died, your mom had a really rough time with it. She didn’t feel like she could take care of you. So she shared custody with Bruce and Alice and you lived with them until she was better.”

That old defensiveness rises in my chest. “She was only nineteen,” I say, voice gruff. “Her parents were shit. Her mom kicked her out at sixteen The only people she had were my grandparents and my father.”

Alex is quiet for a moment. “You always do that, you know,” she finally says.

I turn to look at her for the first time and immediately know it was a mistake. I swear to God, she gets more beautiful every time I see her. Her honey gold hair is shorter than it was at Will and Eva’s engagement party—the last time we were in the same room together. Her soft waves just brush against the top of her shoulders, begging me to touch the ends. Chocolate brown eyes scan my face, eyes I’m pretty sure I could get lost in for days.

Don’t go there,I order myself.Off limits.

“I always do what?” I don’t miss how husky my voice sounds. Just from one damn look at her face.

“Assume you need to defend everyone. I’ve heard you do it with your siblings a hundred times. I wasn’t criticizing your mom, Wyatt.”

I let out a breath, knowing she’s right. “My mom has gotten a lot of shit from people over the years, about what happened.” I swallow hard, that tightness back in my throat. “The truth is, I was so fucking lucky.”

“Because you had so many people who loved you.”

Funny, that’s exactly what my mom always said. Whenever I was sad about not getting to stay at her apartment after our visits, she would remind me that I had all three of them to love me and take care of me.