Page 8 of Worth the Fight

“And now this with Jett⁠—”

“I’ll be fine, Damon.”

“I still feel like I should be doing something. More. I don’t know.”

“You did do something. More,” I repeat with humor in my voice to try and put him at ease that I’ll be okay. That it will all be okay. “You found me exactly what I needed. A place to stay where I could tuck my tail between my legs and lick my wounds for a bit.”

“Yeah, but it’s four hours away from me here in Lake Tahoe.” His guilt tinges the edges of his tone.

“And I’m normally nine hours away from you when I’m in Los Angeles . . . so think of it as me moving closer for a bit,” I tease. “Look, Damon, I appreciate all your help. I was upset, in a hurry to leave, and you helped me out by thinking of somewhere I could go and get my head—and heart—straightened out without living in a hotel for months on end. I’m thinking of it as a personal Airbnb.”

“With a firefighter.” And there it is. The one thing he neglected to mention when he called and told me about the old friend he had who lived away from my beaten path. Said friend also happened to have an extra room, an abundance of quiet at his house, and would leave me be so I could work.

A firefighter. Faded memories of our dad flicker through my mind. Ones I’d rather forget. Ones that have left me always waiting for the man I’m with to walk out the door one day and never come back, because his love for his job, his friends, his freedom, his whatever-the-hell excuse is more important than his family.

“It’s fine, Damon. I’m okay with it.” Except for every time the damn scanner goes off I’m left thinking of our mother. How she left the thing on for months after he left us, hoping to hear his voice . . . making her feel close to him even though he didn’t want anything to do with us. And then how in the absence of the scanner came the alcohol. “I am. I promise.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Believe me.” My smile pulls tight even though he can’t see it.

“How are you holding up otherwise? I mean, it all happened so fast, it has to be hard.”

“It sucks. It stings . . . but that’s Jett.” And I wish everyone would stop asking that because it does more than suck. It’s a dagger in the heart.

“Don’t I know it.”

“Look, I don’t need you to start in on me about him.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” And that’s why I didn’t want to stay with him even if he had the extra room.

“You aren’t making me feel any better. It’s my heart that was hurt, so at this point, does it matter if you were right or not?”

Silence eats up the discord between us. “You’re right. I’m sorry . . . I know you still love him, and I know you still have to work with him, so please promise me you won’t fall for his shit again.”

I think of Grady’s comment about the heart versus the head and grit my teeth, hating that he’s pegging me as the helpless female. “My life. My choices.” There’s a bite to my tone he doesn’t deserve, and yet, it’s still there.

“I know . . . I just . . .”

“I’m not sixteen anymore, Damon. Heartbreak is a thing, and it’s part of life. You can’t protect me from it or go around punching guys to prevent it.”

“You know I would if I could.” There’s softness in his tone. A resignation that his defiant little sister is going to do what she wants regardless of his big brotherly warnings against it. “Are you getting settled in?”

“Were you going to warn me that Grady is a manwhore or is that part of the man code not to?”

“Grady is Grady.” I can see him shrugging as he opens his mouth and closes it to try to make up a better excuse even though he knows it won’t work with me. “He’s a good guy. I wouldn’t have let you stay there if he wasn’t. Wait . . . tell me he isn’t being a dick?”

“No.” I think of everything I’ve learned about him so far. The funny. The sweet. The perpetually cheerful. The total guy part. “He’s just unexpected.”

“He’s had a rough go of it lately, so let me know if he’s being an ass, and I’ll put him in his place.”

“What do you mean he’s had a rough go of it?”

“Almost two years ago he . . . you know what, never mind. It isn’t anything other than knowing he’s not your type, and he’s not the staying kind because of it. It makes me breathe easier as a big brother, knowing nothing will be happening between the two of you.”

“I’m a grown woman, Damon. I’m more than capable of deciding whom I do or don’t sleep with . . . so tell me again, what’s going on with him?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”