Page 85 of Go Find Less
“I’m surprised you didn’t look us up.” I run my thumb over the smooth imprint on the shirt she’s wearing, one of my favorites that I’ve kept with the intention of having it turned into a pillow or something for the media room upstairs, where Longhorn football games are a regular occurrence. Right now, though, the idea of the shirt anywhere but on Piper’s body makes me itchy.
“That’s your thing.” I can hear the smile behind her voice, and press a kiss to her orange-covered chest before sitting back to look up at her. “I want you to tell me what you want me to know. I’ve worked on my ability to trust people for a long time, I wasn’t about to start whatever this is by not letting you tell your own story.”
Whatever this is.
“Shit,” she mumbles, and I realize what else she’s said at the same time she does. “I didn’t mean you, Fitz, doing that.” I swallow as she stumbles for words, her face tightening in concentration, and I give my head a shake.
“I know.” I try to inject as much softness as I can without letting my voice break, because she’s completely right, even though she didn’t mean it. I had cyber-stalked her before I’d even taken a moment to let what I was doing wash over me, gathering information without knowing why and without realizing the effect it would have on my opinion of her.
She’s always been smarter than me, but in this instance, I’m incredibly grateful for the grace she continues to give.
So, I take a deep breath, and let it all spill out.
Fifteen Years Ago
“Chris,thatisabsolutelynot an option,” Paula’s voice wafted through the open door to the bedroom she shared with my father, and I sat at the bottom of the staircase, my arms wrapped around my knees, the cold marble pressing into me.
Beside me, Freddy tapped his well-worn Nike cleat, which he didn’t even get a chance to change out of before all hell broke loose.
“He can’t do this,” Freddy said, mostly to himself, balling his fists up tight and flexing his hands like he’s trying not to hit something.
“Not worth it,” I murmured back, closing a hand around his, and his foot stopped moving. He looked at me, eyes narrowed. He knew it was bad if I was the one initiating physical contact. I gave him a squeeze, more for myself, and let go.
“He can’t keep getting himself into situations like this, Paula,” Dad said, a little louder than she was. “We said last time if we had to bail him out again, this is what we’d do.”
“We didn’t have to bail him out,” Paula countered. “He’s twelve, Chris, not nineteen.”
“He’s old enough to know not to get into fights.”
I sucked in a breath. If only he knew what the fight had been about. Some kid at the mall, making a comment about Ryan’s older sister, who was picking us up from the movies. When I’d squared up to him, with a few inches on him, even though it was clear he was way older, he tried to land a “yo-mama” joke spat in my face like it was the funniest thing in the world.
The second he’d said it, I saw Ryan and Andy freeze next to me. Big, big mistake.
Before I knew what was happening, Ryan had me pushed to the ground. He’d always been stronger than me, would probably have gone out for wrestling if baseball hadn’t been calling his name since the second his dad put him in his first Ranger’s jersey. Same as Andy.
Meanwhile, in the four years I’d been playing club lacrosse, Dad had been to maybe a half-dozen games, with Andrea, our nanny, filling in, occasionally accompanied by Paula or Aunt Evie and a completely bored Frannie.
“Did you talk to him about it?” Paula asked, and there was a pause where Freddy looked at me again.
“I don’t need to. There’s no excuse-"
“Talk to him,” Paula interrupted, and there was another pause, followed by brief shuffling.
From closer to the door, his voice sounded, “Fitzwilliam Nicholas Westfall, get your ass up here.” I flinched. He’d never lay a hand on me - not that spankings hadn’t been out of the question as kids, but more out of principle than anything now. You can’t tell your kids emotions make you weak, only to turn on them in physical anger.
“Chris.” Paula’s voice was admonishing, and I could almost see the look that crossed between them. Paula was one of the few people that can get through to him, make him see any reason when he’s clearly seeing red. I pushed up, and Freddy’s tiny hand wrapped around my ankle. When I looked down at him, he looked like he was about to cry. I tried to offer him a small smile. He let go, and I did my best not to stomp up the stairs, catching Frannie’s eye from the parlor where she was lounging, her nose pressed against her Nintendo. Probably playing that stupid dog game she likes so much.
“Fitzwilliam!” I flinched again.
“Coming.” I swallowed, taking the last steps two at a time until I was standing at their doorway. Paula was seated on the tufted lounge at the foot of their bed. She didn’t even have a chance to change out of her suit, having come straight from the law firm she works at to pick me up from mall security.
Dad stood in the corner by the door, his arms crossed, and his eyes were the exact same shade of blazing green mine had been when I looked at myself in the mirror earlier. Raging, nose bloody, trying to catch my breath while security pounded on the single-stall bathroom I’d managed to find after running.
“Well?” He raised his brows, his forehead wrinkling to meet his hairline, which was slowly receding, that red hair, almost the same shade as mine, getting thinner each year.
“Well what?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Will.” His jaw tensed, and I could tell he was trying not to completely let loose on me. “What do you have to say for yourself?”