Page 79 of Fight For Me

Shit. I’m totally spacing out. “Yeah?”

My dad, Reed, Lennon, and Daltrey are all eying me. I need to get it together.

“I said you look pretty damn happy,” my dad repeats.

“Got a dopey looking grin on your face, kid,” Daltrey agrees. “What’s up?”

Oh, not much. Just thinking about the amazing sex I’m having with a woman you all think of as family.

“PT says I can play a little this week,” I say, grateful for the excuse.

Daltrey’s face lights up and he clasps my shoulder. “Hey, that’s great, kid! You’re probably totally stoked.”

“Fuck yeah,” I say honestly. “Apparently, I have to relearn a bunch of shit so it’s going to be slow going, but it will feel good just to have the keys under my fingers, you know?”

“Let me know if you want me at any of your sessions,” Daltrey says. “I could help you reinforce the new techniques when you’re practicing at home.”

“Wow, thanks. That would be great.”

“Hey,” Dad interjects. “You wouldn’t let me come to your PT sessions when I asked.”

“That’s because you wanted to come to be nosey and bossy and micromanage everything,” I tell him.

Daltrey throws an arm around his shoulder. “Face it buddy, Wyatt likes me better.”

“I will punch you in the junk,” Dad says, pushing his younger brother away.

“That would be awesome for the cameras to get on film,” Lennon says drily.

I let my attention wander a little as the brothers continue to argue. Alex is now being interviewed by some reporter chick with a digital recorder shoved in her face. She’s smiling brightly while she talks but even from here I can tell it’s forced. She’s tired. She was tired when her day started, and I’m pretty sure she’s been running on pure adrenaline ever since.

I want to get her out of here. Want to take her home, away from the cameras and the crowds, where she can relax and stop trying so damn hard.

Maybe she can feel the heat of my gaze, because she looks over and catches my eye. Her lips twitch at the corners, like she’s fighting a smile. I cast a quick glance at the guys—who are now arguing about who’s the favorite uncle—to make sure they’re occupied, then look back to Alex. I nod my head slightly in the direction of the hallway to the bathroom. She nods once, excuses herself from the reporter, and makes her way across the room.

I give her a few minutes head start before following.

“Where are you going?” my dad calls after me.

“I need more beer if I’m going to listen to the four of you be such idiots for another minute,” I call over my shoulder. I should probably feel bad about lying, but I’m finding it tough to care. I just want to get to Alex, check in with her, make sure she’s doing okay.

Alex, apparently, is in the mood for more than just a check in. I’ve just barely stepped into the hallway when her hands wrap around my bicep, yanking me sideways into what appears to be a supply closet. “What are you—”

She slams a hand over my mouth, then points at the mic on her lapel. I raise my eyebrows and her eyes spark with mischief. “Let’s make out,” she mouths silently. I look pointedly down at the mic and she grins, again mouthing words for me to lipread. “Think you can be quiet?”

“Can you?” I mouth back.

“Let’s find out.”

Then she’s up on her tiptoes and I can feel the smile on her lips as she presses them into mine.

I figure kissing Alex within inches of a microphone will be exciting and sexy but instead we spend the next five minutes trying our best not to crack up. Alex attempts to get me to be the first one to break, tickling my sides and pinching my ass. When she sticks her tongue in my ear, I give up, holding my hands up in surrender. Her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter and I press my forehead against hers, relishing the simple moment of closeness.

“Someone will come looking for us,” I whisper into her ear.

She nods and starts to pull away but before she can get too far, I get my revenge, sticking my tongue in her ear. She squeals, jumping back, and I hold my arms over my head in victory.

“You suck!” she mouths, but she’s trying not to laugh as she squeezes through the closet door.