Page 5 of Warrior

“Yeah,” I agree. “Thanks for coming over.” She smiles again and walks over to her yard. I turn toward my house, noticing people have started to arrive for the meal. I take a mouthful of cold air in my lungs and steel myself before heading inside.

“Hey, Colt!” Lyric calls suddenly, and I turn back to look at her.

“Yeah?”

“You know, the Lakota have a saying that a warrior isn’t someone who fights. A warrior is someone who sacrifices himself for the good of others. I didn’t know your brother, but I heard he died protecting innocent people. He was a warrior and a good person. Don’t forget that,” she tells me, before spinning back around and disappearing from my view.

My mind spins over her words, and I conjure up everything good I can remember about Alex. It’s not likely I’ll ever forget him, but it does make me happy to know everyone else remembers him as not just a soldier who died in battle. He was also a brother, a son, a father, and a fiancé. He was a baseball champion and ate chips on his sandwiches, liked picklesin peanut butter, would only drink the blue Gatorades, and he excelled in English class while he struggled through science. He laughed at everything and he liked my dad’s old rock records. He always looked out for me. I can’t help but think that maybe Lyric being here today is just another way Alex is still watching over me.

Chapter 2

Lyric, age 16

“Lyric Taylor!” my dad’s voice calls from his usual chair in the living room. I put my eyeshadow down, eyeing my momma warily, waiting for the argument I know is coming. His feet stomp up the stairs until he’s standing in my doorway, his gaze fleeting from Momma to me.

“Hey, Daddy.” I smile, giving him as innocent of an expression as I can muster.

“Why is Colt Street at my front door saying he’s here to pick you up for a date?”

“Sam.” My momma’s voice calmly breaks through the tension. We’ve been preparing him for this all week, since Colt first asked me out on Sunday.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me, Haley,” he huffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “You girls are the ones who plotted this even when I said she isn’t ready. She just turned sixteen a month ago. I don’t think that means she’s just ready to start dating.”

“And when will she be ready, Sam? When she’s thirty?” My momma’s eyebrow quirks, and I notice a smile tugging at her lips.

“Preferably when she’s not living under my roof and I don’t have to know about it,” he answers, his gaze sliding to me. I hunch my shoulders and try to hold my own smile in. I love my dad to death, but ever since I’ve hit puberty, it’s as if I have a whole new set of rules I never knew existed. He’s definitely stricter with me than Kyler, my fourteen-year-old brother. I feel horrible for Posey when she starts dating. Good thing she’s only ten!

He eyes my outfit and the makeup palette in my hand, which only makes him frown more. I’m hardly dressed inappropriately. My jeans are new, but they cover what they should. I opted to wear a tank top with lace trim and a matching cardigan sweater over it, instead of one of my usual graphic T-shirts.

Sam Taylor looks mean with his tall build and broad shoulders. After years of being a high school English teacher, he’s perfected a stony face and gruff voice that keeps kids in line. Most of my friends are scared of him. Only my family and I know how much of a teddy bear he actually is. The tough guy facade he’s fronting right now is for Colt’s benefit more than him actually being mad at me.

“It’s just pizza and a movie, Daddy.” I tilt my head to meet his gaze.

“Colt’s a good kid,” my momma reminds him gently, placing her hand on his forearm.

“The kid runs around with hardly any adult supervision. His dad is never home, and Colt gets to school late more days than on time. I’ve seen him and his buddies camping at the lake almost all summer. I swear they even had beer bottles, Haley,” he harrumphs.

“That hardly makes him a criminal,” my momma argues, and man do I love her even more. She is actually the disciplinarian in this household and the fact that Colt somehow has her wrappedaround his finger is amazing to me. She had zero qualms about my first date when I asked her if I could go.

“You know he’s had a rough couple of years. To lose a brother then his mother so young…he may be late to school, but he is in the top of his grade. He has a part-time job, plays after-school sports and he is always nice to adults when I see him.” I beam at her appraisal of Colt. Even though she left out how devastatingly handsome he is, I can’t deny everything she said is true.

Ever since that day of his brother’s funeral, we’ve been glued at the hip. His best friend, Zane, finally came around and now he’s one of my closest friends, too. Since we went to different middle schools, I only saw them on the weekends or a few hours in the evening before dinner. Colt’s mom passed away two years later and we all became closer. After Colt’s brother passed, his mom was never the same. She became depressed and distant until she completely lost her will to live. It was the first time I’d really seen Colt cry. He sat between Zane and me, shoulder to shoulder, while his chest heaved with silent sobs. I cried silently with him. Zane teared up as well, even though he’d never admit it. It was a time that truly bonded us. Zane and I became the family Colt needed, the people he counted on to be around. I made it my personal goal to make sure he smiled every time I saw him.

This past summer, though, things began to change. Colt grew up. And when I say grew up, I mean hegrew. For a sixteen-year-old boy, he looks more like an eighteen-year-old. He towers over my average five foot seven. I swear even his arms became longer and his hands…I’ve never been intrigued by or studied someone’s hands before, but Colt…the first time he held mine, they were swallowed by his. I’ve never felt safer than when his hand wraps around mine. Strong and warm, and just rough enough that it sends shivers down my spine. His face thinned out and became longer, his jaw sharp and the bridge of his noseangular. His long dark hair is messy and always hangs over his forehead. I’ve seen him after his football practice without a shirt on and I can’t believe a boy my age could be as cut as he is. His tan skin stretches and moves over his abs. The veins in his forearms ripple and bunch every time he grabs a football. My eyes practically fell out of their sockets when I realized my friend was hiding all of this under his baggy T-shirts and jeans. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Half of the girls in the school were noticing as well. That’s when the first flare of jealousy erupted in my chest and I knew I was never going to see Colt the same again. Suddenly, riding and jumping bikes wasn’t enough.

Apparently, he felt the same way about me. Our first week back at school for our sophomore year, he sat by me in all our same classes. He started meeting me at my locker in the mornings and offering to walk me home after school. It didn’t matter that Zane also tagged along because Colt had askedme.

After church this past week, my family stopped at the grocery store to pick up chicken dinner and ran into Colt. He brought our groceries to the car and on the way out asked if I’d want to get pizza and go see the new comedy movie at our local theater. Hook, line and sinker…he had me.

“I’m not happy about this. You’ll be home by nine,” Daddy says, directing his words to me. I frown. It’s already six.

“Sam!” my momma scolds and laughs. “Be home by eleven, Lyric.”

My dad opens his mouth to say more, but the look Momma shoots him keeps his lips zipped shut. I slam my own lips together to stifle my grin.

“Anyways,” he says sounding defeated, “the boy is here. You better go.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” I jump to my feet and wrap my arms around him before doing the same to Momma. Grabbing my small purse, I quickly sprint down the stairs. To my surprise,Colt is helping Kyler play his video game. He stops when he sees me and a slow, lopsided grin pulls at his lips.

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