Page 68 of Fighting for You
Running my hand down my face, I contemplate heading to Thea’s. Being with them for Christmas might make me feel better. Sitting in my own self-pity isn’t exactly doing me any good. I peer over to the left of the stairs where I left the presents I haphazardly wrapped the other day.
I chuckle to myself remembering what I got Ripley. I’m not sure he’ll find it funny, but I’m almost certain seeing his twisted up face over it will bring tears of laughter to my eyes. I need that. All joking aside, I need to be around the people I know won’t leave me.
With my decision made, I finish off my beer, pick up the remnants of last night, then head into the bathroom to shower.
Christmas music filters from behind the door as I stand in the cold waiting for someone to hear me knocking. “Fuck, someone answer already, it’s cold as shit out here,” I yell at the door, turning my face away from the freezing rain. I’m lifting my fist topound on the wood more aggressively this time when it swings open.
“Brooks?” Thea questions, her face twisting in confusion.
“The one and only,” I reply back, holding my hand up with the bag stuffed full of gifts, waiting for her to let me in.
“We didn’t think you’d show, you didn’t answer any of our texts.” She folds her arms over her chest, making sure I know she’s upset with me. What she doesn’t know is I can tell from the tone of her voice, I don’t need to see her all pouty and standoffish.
“I’m aware, Thea. Look, can you lecture me inside the house? It’s sleeting out here,” I say as a shiver runs down my spine. We don’t get a ton of winter weather in South Carolina, but when we do, it’s usually atrocious. We aren’t used to driving in it, and the state barely has the necessities to treat the roads. I chose to bring the truck instead of my bike because of the slick conditions. I may be reckless, but I’m not trying to die on Christmas.
She rolls her eyes, moving off to the side so I can squeeze through, and closes the door behind me. “Thank you, angel,” I rasp out with as much charm as I can muster.
“Oh, do not ‘angel’ me. I’m still upset with you.” Despite her words, she leans in to hug me. “Merry Christmas, asshole.” The tone in her voice is teasing now, and I squeeze her a little tighter.
As we pull away, I shake off the cold and set my bag down for a second so I can take my jacket off. “Merry Christmas,angel. And at this point, who isn’t?” I ask, the self-deprecation seeping out through my words.
She looks me right in the eyes and says, “So stop being an asshat, and maybe people will stop being mad at you.”
She makes it sound like it’s as easy as breathing. Juststop. I wish I fucking could. “I’ll get right on that.”
Before she can get another word in, Ripley yells from the living room, “Is that the loser loner I hear? Did he finally comeout of his pity party cave?” Fuck. I cannot wait for him to open this gift now. The embarrassment in front of everyone will be payback for him being an asshole.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a dick?” I ask as I walk into the room, present bag in hand.
“Once or twice, but I don’t hear it nearly as many times as you do,” he says with a smirk.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply and instead walk toward the kitchen. Cary’s got the oven open, pulling out a prime rib roast. The man would live in the kitchen if he could. I should ask him if he likes the upgrades I did in here while he was gone for all those years. The drab cabinets from the 80s got repainted, and I installed a butcher block countertop on her island.
“Hey,” I say, “You need any help?”
He turns to look at me, a small smile pulling at his lips as he sets the roast on top of the stove and pulls off his oven mitts. “Nah, it’s all almost done. Thanks though. I’m glad you came.”
The words are simple, but the meaning behind them is heavy. I’m used to people wishing I didn’t show up. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. Maybe I’m the only one who thinks that though. Maybe it’s all been in my head all along.
“Yeah, thanks, me too.”
Cary walks to the refrigerator and pulls out two beers, passing one to me. I grab it and stare down at it like it’s a foreign object. After a moment, I look back up at him and pass it back. “I’m good.” Before he can ask or make anything of it, I turn back around for the living room.
Ripley being Ripley—and the biggest fucking pain in my ass—asks me exactly what’s on his mind the moment I pass over the threshold into the room. “What happened with Margot? I thought I set you up pretty well with my amazing advice.” He’s sitting on the couch, a smug look on his face.
“What advice?” Thea cuts in, her puzzled look shooting from me to him, then back to me again. When neither of us answers, she continues, “Pause. You went to Ripley for advice about women, specifically Margot, over me?” We’re silent still, and after a few moments, she throws her hands up in the air. “Wow. Okay. And what ‘advice’ did you give him, Rip?” She makes sure to use air quotes around the word “advice.”
“He asked me how to plan a date, so I helped him out. It was no big deal.”
“No big dea—” she starts, but Cary walks in and cuts her off.
“Wait, you took Margot on a date?”
Without answering any of them, I walk over to the tree in the corner of the room, crouch down, and start pulling each present out of the bag I brought, placing them next to the others. Their stares burn into my back. I clear my throat before standing up and turning toward them. As I shove my hands in my pockets, I say, “I did, yeah. Doesn’t matter though, I fucked it up in less than a week.”
Every single one of their faces drop. It’s clear they thought I wasn’t serious about pursuing Margot—maybe even Ripley to an extent. I don’t say anything else, just walk to the couch and fall into it, taking a deep breath as I do.
“Holy shit, you actually like her,” Cary says. I look over at him and just nod my head. “I’m sorry, Brooks. I honestly didn’t think it was anything serious. I assumed you were just fucking around like usual.” He’s sitting on the couch next to Thea now, his elbows resting on his knees as the realization hits him that for once, I wanted something out of life. I wantedsomeone.
