Page 69 of Fighting for You
“It’s fine. Clearly wasn’t meant to be. Like I said, I fucked it up already, you know, like I always do.” I huff a laugh, trying to make light of the situation. I feel like me being here is bringing down the mood.
“Why do you do that?” Thea asks, breaking through my thoughts.
“Do what?”
“Why do you always assume you fuck everything up? When have any of us ever said that? What have you fucked up?”
Her words hit me in the chest. No one has ever called me out point blank. If anyone did, I’d expect it to be Ripley, not Thea. But as I look around the room at them, they’re all staring back at me like they’ve been wanting to ask the same question for years.
“I uh… I don’t know. I mean, I fucked up your gala thing. Plus our pre-Thanksgiving dinner and—”
“No,” she says.
“No… what?” I ask, not following how ‘no’ is a response to anything I said.
“The gala wasn’t fucked up. It went great. They booked for next year already,” she answers, looking me dead in the eye like she wants me to argue with her. She’s ready to fight. Fight for me. Ready to battle it out on my behalf, even against my own demons.
“And the dinner wasn’t your fault either,” Cary starts. “Did you escalate things a bit? Sure. But I got myself into that mess. I’m the one who fucked up, not you.”
I look to Ripley, expecting him to jump in next. “Oh, I think you fuck up plenty. Don’t think I didn’t notice the two bottles of bourbon that went missing after our last tasting. Just glad it turned out you dropped them and not that you’re a lowkey alcoholic. I’d hate to have to find another tasting co-host.” I only dropped one bottle, he can assume otherwise for now though. He shoots me a smile, but it’s quickly wiped off his face as a pillow hits him square in the forehead. “What the fu—”
“That was rude. Apologize!” scolds Thea from her seat on the couch.
Ripley throws the pillow back at her, but Cary catches it before it can hit her. “It was a joke, Jesus!”
I find myself smiling as I watch them bicker back and forth. How I never saw what Ripley was hiding and their true relationship before, I’m honestly not sure.
“Okay, let’s eat so we can open presents,” Cary says, clapping his hands in front of him as he gets up from his seat. Thea and Ripley follow, shoving each other as they race to the dining room. “I will separate you two if you keep it up,” he tells them, sounding like a dad controlling two siblings.
“Sure thing, Care-Bear, whatever you need to do,” Ripley quips back as they turn the corner into the dining room. They’re too far away now for me to hear his reply, but Thea laughs, the sound filling the whole house.
“Brooks, get in here!” she shouts from the other room. I chuckle and internally kick myself for not coming over sooner, for not knowing this is where I needed to be.
“Ripley, you open yours first this year!” Thea says enthusiastically. Every year, she wants one person to open all their gifts at once while everyone else stares at us. It’s actually awkward as fuck, and I kind of hate it. Not that I or anyone can tell her that; she’d bite our heads off.
Ripley reaches for mine first, looking at the tag to see who it’s from. “Should probably get this out of the way. I hope it’s better than the pack of tube socks you got me last year. I still don’t know why you thought I wear those,” he complains. I stand by my gifts, they’re always practical. Everyone needs socks. So, I gotthe wrong kind, it’s not like he couldn’t wear them when he’s too lazy to do laundry or something.
“Oh, it’s better,” I retort, knowing he’ll at least get more use out of this gift. I made sure to put it in a box so the shape is concealed. As he unwraps the present, I scooch to the edge of my seat, needing to get as close as possible to see the look on his face. He rips the tape from the side, still mumbling about why I’d get someone socks for Christmas. I’m ignoring him though, solely focused on his face, waiting for the change.
He pulls the box open, his face scrunching up as he says, “What is—oh. Oh my God.” His face turns impossibly red, and I cover my mouth to stop the laughter from escaping.
“What is it, Rip?” Thea asks, her mood still high on Christmas spirit.
“Go ahead, Rip, show them what it is.” I don’t miss a beat. I’m loving how shocked he is. Even his ears are pink at this point.
His eyes find mine as he pulls the present from the box and says, “Brooks got me a donut cock ring,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to the other side of the room, “for Christmas.”
There’s a beat of silence as his words register, then everyone bursts into laughter, even Ripley after the shock wears off. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and my abs burn from all the laughter over the last couple hours.
Once he’s composed himself enough, he shrugs his shoulders and says, “Hey, it’s better than socks.”
I shoot a wink in his direction. “I’m sure you can put it to good use.”
His face is still vermillion red as he nods his head going, “Uh huh…”
He continues opening the rest of his presents, then Thea makes me go, her eyes shining with holiday cheer and mulled wine. She gets all giddy as I’m unwrapping the one fromher. I swear the woman could overdose on serotonin during Christmas, she loves it way too much.
“Hurry up!” she whines.
