Page 4 of Fighting for You
As he puts his hand on the gear shift, he looks over at me and asks, “You good?”
“No,” I grumble, still attempting to stifle my simmering anger.
“Everyone loses every once in a while, it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it.”
I huff in response, not wanting to discuss it further.
He shakes his head, puts the car in drive, and takes off for Indigo Hill.
I pull my arm over my face as the sun assaults me. When the side of my hand touches my battered cheek, my eyes jolt open in pain. Last night comes rushing back: the wound on my cheek reopening, the black eye I’m sure I’m sporting, and the throbbing in my jaw where Colton landed an uppercut on me.
As much as I’d like to go to back to sleep, I need some painkillers before it’s possible, and I’m wide awake now.
I reach over to grab my phone from beside me in the bed when I see it’s already noon, meaning my 9 a.m. alarm did jack shit for me this morning.
“Fuck!”
My plan had been to wake up early and see if Thea needed help setting up for tonight, but she’ll be done by now. She’s more than used to me being unreliable, but I’m trying to change that. I don’t want to keep letting everyone down all the time.
Every year we have a family dinner the night before Thanksgiving at Ripple Effect Distillery and Restaurant—or RED as most of us call it—then host our annual Thanksgiving lunch for the town the next day. This is the first year without my parents. It’s the first one Thea has to plan on her own.
RED used to be a rundown diner, aptly named Indigo Hill Diner. My parents had renovated and rebranded the establishment with Thea’s help, finally relieving themselves of the mountain of debt the place had accrued over the years. Along the way, I think Thea realized running RED was her dream job, but I don’t think she ever expected to have to run it withoutthem. She definitely never expected to have to co-own it with my dumbass younger brother.
I look at the time on my phone again, silently cursing myself for sleeping as late as I did. Thankfully, I hadn’t told her I wanted to come by and help, so it’s not like she knew I’d ghosted her. Again. ButIknow.
I’m just as fucking done with myself as I’m sure everyone else is. I can’t stop though. I can’t seem to do one thing right, so I keep doubling down on doing everything wrong.
Pulling myself out of bed, I try to stretch, but my abdomen is too sore to do much. I immediately notice the new bruises marring my ribs, hating myself again for allowing Colton to win last night.
I make my way toward the bathroom, bypassing the mirror because I know I won’t like what I see. I feel the tattered pieces of more than just my soul today.
As I reach into the shower to turn it on, I decide I won’t let the day go to waste. Despite looking like I got run over by a truck, I’ll go see Hayes at his tattoo shop. I’ll put myself out there for once and see if it goes anywhere.
The reddish pink color of the water puddling near my feet as I wash the grime off my body makes me itch for a paintbrush. It’s the first time in a long while, and I blame my delusional idea of working at Mark of Mason for even letting my mind go there.
I’ve tried really hard not to get my hopes up about much of anything anymore but especially when it comes to anything creative. I can’t remember the last time I sketched or considered painting. I did some branding work for a few businesses in town after creating RED’s logo, but no one aside from Thea knows it was me.
She begged me to let her tell everyone and start offering my services to more people, but I didn’t see the point. I only took on the other businesses because they hounded Thea for the nameof who she hired. Once she brought it to my attention and asked if I’d be open to her giving them my name, I told her I wasn’t interested in going full out, but I’d communicate via email if it would get her off my back.
Even graphic design had sparked the tiniest flame in me again. I suddenly had the urgetocreaterather than destroy. I know better than to let myself want it though. It isn’t practical. I just can’t help it. So this idea to talk to Hayes is… a long shot at best, I know that. I’d been willing to give my life to Ripple Effect Distillery and Restaurant like my parents had, despite never really wanting it. But now they’re gone, and I wasn’t named the new owner, so I’m a free man.
A free man with a stupid dream and almost no hope of it coming true.
“You want to apprentice? Here?” Hayes asks, the confused tone in his voice apparent. The only interest he’s seen from me in regards to tattoos before this is watching as he works on the many pieces he’s given me over the years. I’ve never told him he’s living my dream.
“Is it so hard to believe?”
He stops tattooing Archer for a moment to look up at me. The answer is clear on his face.
“Yes, I want to apprentice here,” I repeat to make myself clear.
“Why?” he asks as his attention focuses back on Archer’s arm. I can’t tell if talking to him while he’s working is making this better or worse. He’s hard to read on a good day.
“I just think I’d be good at it.” The words feel like ash on my tongue. Saying out loud I think I’d be good at something is so foreign I almost take it back immediately.
“Right. Well, I don’t have an open chair.”
The letdown is subtle because I can’t tell if it’s the real reason or just a convenience. Either way, I let it roll off my shoulders and swallow down the burn of rejection.
