Page 87 of Go Find Less

“Funny way of showing it,” I muttered, before really thinking about it, and Dad stepped up until he was nearly in my face. I shrank away as Paula cried “Chris!”

“You watch your mouth, or I’ll have you on the next flight to Switzerland without so much as a goodbye to those snotty friends of yours.” I fought the comment on the tip of my tongue - that those snotty friends of mine, and their families, have been better to me than he has my entire life. More family dinners, more support at tournaments, more reasonable advice without the ulterior motive of trying to train your replacement from diapers. Like his dad had with him, I guess.

From Paula’s arms, Freddy let out a sob, and she glared at Dad before looking back at me.

“We love you, too.” She glanced between the two of us, and then down at Freddy. “Your dad wants you to be successful, and I want you to be happy.” With a sniffle, she shuffled Freddy to the other hip. “But this fighting has got to stop.” She walked out with a final look over her shoulder, and Dad closed the distance between us until I’m practically leaning at an angle to get away from him.

“You can’t upset her like that.” His voice was even colder, and I heard my own gulp, feeling my muscles tense. “Geneva.” He held up a finger in my face. “I’m serious. One more time.”

Present Day

“He’salwaysbeenlikethat,” I explain, shrugging when Piper asks if that was normal for us.

“Geneva?” She pauses, shaking her head like she’s imagining what our lives would have been like if I had been shipped off to Switzerland - that time, or any other time before that when I’d let my feelings get the better of me. Or so Dad had said. “So you just…decided to stop…showing emotion?” She struggles for the words, and I have to admit, I smile to myself a bit. It’s not often that she’s left without the right thing to say.

“I couldn’t risk leaving Frannie and Fred to all of that.” I shrug again, rolling onto my back and looking up at the ceiling. “So I decided to suck it up. My fate was sealed, all of the oldest sons have been raised to take over since WHG was founded.” Five generations of brash fuckers, each as driven and single-minded as the last. At least my grandfather had the decency to be honest about it. Dad tries to hide his behind family values and PR stunts.

“You really don’t remember your mom?” Her voice is quieter, and I glance over at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s leaning over to face me, her head propped up on her elbow, a mirror of how I’d been moments before as I shared that memory, so ingrained in my head. I shake my head, folding my hands over my bare chest. Piper reaches out, her nail whispering down my arm.

“But you’re a fierce defender of her.” I nod wordlessly, savoring the way my hair stands at her touch. “Are you feeling pretty emotionally put out right now?” I turn my head toward her, and she’s observing me in a way that tells me it’s not a judgment. It’s a genuine question, like she’s gauging where I’m at. I nod again, and she smiles, her finger stopping, only long enough for her to turn and plop that last pill in her container out, swallowing it down without any water. Damn.

“Let’s get some sleep. You can tell me all of your other dirty little secrets tomorrow.” The idea is horrifying, but when she pulls my shirt over her head without a second thought, those dark curls bouncing around her bare chest, the worry falls out of my head. When she faces away from me, I wrap my hand around her and pull her close, her warm back against my chest. Roscoe lets out a loud huff, the unencumbered freeloader that he is, when he has to shift to make room for her against me.

“Goodnight,” I murmur against her shoulder, pressing a kiss into it just below that line of pearls, and she wiggles against me, completely naked, I realize, because my 2XL Tall t-shirt went down to nearly her knees and she never put pants on.

“Sweet dreams.” And before I can even register the sated feeling that drifts through me, I’m out like a fucking light for the first time in a long, long time.

Chapter 34

Piper

ThefirstthingI’maware of the next morning is something cold and wet nudging at my hand.

“Bex,” I mumble, pressing my face further into the pillow I’m laying on and taking a deep breath.

Hold on.

I try to twist around, but the arm slung across my back sticks when I turn. I’m a hot sleeper normally, but when that thing nudges me again, I realize I’m not hot, sleeping in my bed, unable to move because Bex is laying on top of me - which does happen occasionally.

A loud, jolting breath on the other side of my head makes my eyes pop open, and I’m face to face with Roscoe.

“Jesus fuck.” I start, head rearing back and nearly bashing into what I think is Fitz’s nose behind me. Great. Add to the bruises, Delmonico.

With a wince, I close my eyes and let myself feel the complete embarrassment for that one. And when I shift under his weight, finally turning to face him, there is, indeed, a splotch of red across his high cheekbone. I curse to myself, watching his face as he nests further into the blankets half covering his face and trying to pull me closer. Oh no, you don’t.

Roscoe’s cold nose meets my shoulder and I jump.

“Fuck, Roscoe, I got it.” Gingerly, I wiggle out until I’ve let his arm fall to the sheets, sitting up on the edge of the bed and stretching. In the daylight, this room doesn’t look so stark. Even facing the inside wall, the light from the windows over my shoulder washes the room with more warmth. Roscoe comes in front of me, nudging my knee with his nose, and I scratch behind his ear until his foot is thumping lightly on the floor.

Behind me, Fitz stirs, and I look down at his dog. “Let’s get your morning started, hm?” I find my discarded t-shirt on the floor next to the bed and pull it on, trying to move across the room as quietly as possible to dig my underwear out of the pile of black lace near the dresser. I smile to myself, watching Fitz turn over again, his shoulders flexing deliciously where they peek out from under the covers. As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t still participate in any sports, but clearly he’s keeping some sort of routine up with the way he gracefully picked me up and threw me on his bed. I ignore the throb of heat at the thought.

I pick up my phone from the table by the bedroom door as I follow Roscoe down the stark white hallway, until we’re back in the kitchen. When I let him outside, I hide behind the door in case any neighbors decide it’s a good time for a morning peek over their fence. The curtains are all drawn around the breakfast nook, and in the living room I step into once Roscoe is outside.

I’ve got notifications like I haven’t seen since my graceful visit to the hospital, and I open the message thread with the largest number next to it first.

Group Text (22)Alex, Carla, Penny, Vic

Mother of God. I scroll through the messages, mostly inappropriate .GIFs supplied by Carla, finally making my way to the bottom. Fuck me, why am I up so early?

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