Page 52 of Infinite as They Come
“Sawyer, you’re here.” I heard a soft voice say to my side.
My head turned fast to see Spencer, a bruise the size of a fist right there on his left eye. I hissed and sank to my knees, my hand on his chin as I turned him this way and that way to get a proper look.
“Christ, what’d they do to you?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
I was expecting tears. A frown. Soft, shaken words and his palms pressedto his eyes as he tried to force away the pain. Instead, Spencer shot me a grin so big he could give Holly with her perfect cheerleader smile a run for her money.
“I’m fine!” he said. “I did what you said!”
My heart sunk. “You did?”
“Uh-huh. I got two punches in. Two!”
He sounded so damn excited, that smile still there on his face before he threw his arms around me. I patted his back, confusion taking over as I held him.
“You seem happy about this…” I said.
“I am!” He pulled away from me. “That was the first ever time I fought back. It felt good. I didn’t know it could feel so good.”
“Huh…” was all I could manage to say, but then I frowned. He didn’t have his glasses on. “Your glasses. Where are they?”
“Uh…” That big smile dropped in a second flat. “They broke.”
“Fuck,” I seethed. My fault. All my fault. I stood up slowly, eye to eye with the woman behind the desk. “His glasses broke?”
She turned around and sorted through a little box before facing me again. The glasses were in her hand, one of the lenses smashed and a temple snapped in half.
“Here they are,” she said, sliding them across the desk.
I stared at them for a good minute. He probably could barely see right now, and it was all because of me and my shitty advice. This was my brother. Mylittlebrother. My little brother who was shy and sensitive and liked to garden and knew about butterflies and what colors they liked instead of causing all kinds of trouble like I did when I was his age. I should have known better. I was supposed to be the fucking adult in this situation. Turning back to Spencer, I took in the hesitant look on his face. His little pout and big eyes, his fingers tugging at his T-shirt. That painful looking bruise.
“I didn’t mean to break them,” he said. “It’s just, one of the guys punched me, and I punched back, and then…”
“Right.” I nodded. “It’s not your fault.”
“I hope Mom won’t be angry.”
“Yeah, same,” I muttered before looking back at the woman at the desk. “Thanks for these,” I said, grabbing the glasses, my other hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We left the front office behind and made our way to the parking lot. Just like that, Spencer’s excitement came back as he slid into the truck. He yanked at his seat belt, sitting up straight, that smile reappearing: all crooked and big but so sure.
“You look real happy despite what happened,” I said, laughing lowly.
“It felt good to stick up for myself,” he said. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “I wanna do it again.”
“You wanna stick up for yourself or you wanna get into another fight?”
“Uh…” He looked up for a second, his grin widening. “Both.”
“Christ, I’m a bad influence,” I grumbled, giving my head a shake.
“I liked how I felt after it. And maybe those guys will leave me alone. I hope so.”
“Yeah, I hope so too,” I said, staring down at his broken glasses. They sat so limply in my hand, like they were on the brink of cracking into a million pieces. I had to fix this. That smile on Spencer’s face went straight to my heart, but so did his damaged glasses there in my hand.
