Fall Guy (45 page)

"Can we see him?" Ithaca asks, biting her lips.

I know she's upset that she stormed out of the room before it happened, even if there wasn't a single thing she could have done to help him. I know because irrational guilt is something I get.

"We
know we
need to let him rest," their mother says
to the nurse on duty
, her voice thick. "Can his brother and sisters see him?
Just for a minute?"

The nurse behind the desk frowns to let everyone know that Remy's not well, that this can't be a long visit.
"Just for a minute."

Winch has my hand in his, but I pull back gently. "Not me."

"You belong in there. Remy would have wanted it," he argues.

His father sighs and shakes his head
behind Winch’s back
,
and
his mother's eyes narrow at
me.

"No. Go see your brother." I push him to the room, and he walks over, looking back at me a few times as he does.

As soon as he disappears into the room, his father turns to me.

"It would be best if you didn't see my son for a while," Mr. Youngblood
says, straightening his back
and looking down his crooked nose at me. "We're going to have a serious family situation to deal with, and the last thing he needs is an outsider taking his attention away from what's important."

A few weeks ago, Mr. Youngblood's little dictate would have been all it took to make me crumble inside, push me away and make me roll over and give up. But Winch and I
are
a unit now.
A team.
Where he goes, I go. What he does, I do.

So I look both his parents in the eye, first one, then the other, and hold my hand out, palm up.

"I have no interest in what either one of you thinks I should do. Please give me my phone back before I have to report it stolen."

His mother clicks her tongue and mutters something about "disgusting lack of manners," and his father yanks my phone out of his pocket like it's a germ-ridden piece of crap before he slaps it into my palm.

"You're feeling high off of this right now, missy, but listen to me." He
wags
a finger in my face, so close I could snap out and bite it if I wanted. And it takes everything in me to keep myself from following through with what I want. "
Winchester is loyal to his blood
. He's misguided right now, by you, by what you're probably doing with him between the sheets." I veer back in open disgust, and his snaking smile tells me that he knows he's pushed over a line and doesn't care. "But
that fades. He'll come back to us. He'll forget you. I wish you'd make it easy on yourself and just leave before you wind up dumped."

My spine stiffens and my throat tightens. I have to force myself not to blink until the threat of tears is gone, and I work hard to get my voice under control so I can answer him.

"Trust me. He's never coming back to you."

It's a bet. It's a bet on Winch that I'm willing to make even if I can't see the end result, like I
always
could with the horse races.

He comes out of Remy's room
just then
, his lips pinched and white, and the look of sadness in his eyes makes his mother flick a smile and an arched brow of triumph my way.

But it's me he goes to, me he folds in his arms for a long, tight few seconds. I grip right back, and hope that our love will be strong enough, that we'll have what it takes to make it through
all of this
together.

My stomach is twisted in knots. My parents are standing in the hallway outside my room, glaring, arms crossed, feet tapping, and the hate and anger they're obviously feeling simmers and pollutes every ounce of space.

"This is unnecessary, son." My father gestures to my nearly empty room. "This is still your home. You
wanna
strike out on your own? Okay, fine. But you don't just strip your past clean."

I stack the boxes neatly, but I don't feel any energizing hum of defiance or righteous fury. I feel old and sapped. I feel a little like my brother must have when the hospital finally released him, spent and barely able to stand up straight.

When I went with him to sign into the long-term rehab facility, I was pretty sure it was just one last attempt to stall the inevitable, and that he'd check himself out and find the closest bar fast. But he's been there, role-playing and keeping a journal and talking to a whole team of doctors.

Which is why I'm leaving.

I have to if I want my brother to live.

I have to if I want a shot at a real future for myself.

"I think it's time for a clean start,
Pop
." I pull a long piece of packing tape over the closed flaps of the last box. "Remy needs this."

His eye twitches, and I regret saying the last words.

"Remy need
this
? How, exactly, do you think it's possible that Remy
needs
not having his family together, working to get him back on his feet? Or is this going to be where you repeat all that psycho babble those quack doctors
are
charging me an arm and a leg to throw in my face?"

My dad's voice is so
loud,
it brings Colt shuffling out of his room.

"Are you leaving t
oday, Winch?" He eyes the boxes
and then me. For the first time in a
long time, my brother looks at me with something other than disgust; he looks proud.

A few weeks ago,
I wouldn't have given a shit if Colt was proud of me or not. Now I'm glad he can look up to me for doing the one thing every Youngblood is trained never to do; walk away from the family.

"Yeah.
I'm packing the last of it today, and moving into my apartment.” I turn back to my father. “And, what the doctors say? It's not psycho babble," I explain for the hundredth time, even though I should just drop it. I start to lift a box that's a little too big, but, before I rip my back out, Colt swoops in to grab the other end and grins at me. I grin back and look at my parents. "They explained how what we do, what I do specifically, enabled Remy. When he gets out, he's
gonna
need to be so careful about things. I don't want him to fall back on bad habits."

"How will he get well without us around him?" my mother asks, grabbing at the gold and ruby cross around her neck. She's been going to extra masses for weeks, praying about the whole situation. Sometimes I wonder what, exactly, she's asking God for. Most of the time, I'm glad I don't know.

"He has a support team," I remind her. "And I'm not out of his life forever. I’m keeping my distance for now.
Just until he's back on his feet."

"So you're planning to come back to the family, run things like you did?" My dad's face is so relieved, I feel like a dick smoking holes in his fantasy of us being one big, obedient family again.

"I have my own plans,
Pop
. I love you all, but it's time I did what I need to do."

Colt picks up three boxes that are probably too heavy for him. "You want me to bring these out for you?"

My little brother has always hated arguments and fights, ever since he was a tiny kid.
Lately it's been brawls day in and out around here, and since he sees another one brewing, he's eager to get away from it.

"Thanks, Colt." I watch him leave, then turn my attention back to my parents, who look like they're in mourning when they should be happy. "I'm going to apprentice. That's a good thing. And Remy is getting treatment. That's good, too."

"I don't understand how all this good stuff has to come when you're all so far from this family," my father argues. Mama puts an arm around his waist and presses her cross to her lips.

It's so obvious, I consider not answering him. But I was blindsided by my family for years. I
t
took almost losing my brother and the girl I love to wake me up. Maybe losing me and Remy will be the wake-up call my parents need.

"Because the family isn't working the way it needs to," I explain as patiently as I can. "So we need to separate on some levels. I'm still your son. I still love you."

My father looks at me for a few long beats, and I wonder if any of what happened in the past few weeks is going to sink in for him, going to change him. But he just grimaces and shakes his head. "Yeah, well, you got a real funny way of showing us your love, son. That's for sure."

He and my mother watch silently as Colt and I pack the boxes into the U-Haul I rented. My sisters come out of their rooms just as we're finishing, and we all move to the front room.

So this is it.

I don't feel as good as I imagined I would. A lot has changed in a short amount of time, and I know that there's this time in my life or this place I once had that's gone forever. I'm glad I'm moving on, but, even with all the shit my family got itself wrapped up in, there was still a lot I loved about being so close to them. Evan's Sometimes, Always, Never game flashes through my brain.

I'll always love my family.

I'll see them sometimes.

I'll never be under their thumb again.

But never being under their thumb means that I'll be shut out.
There will be secrets I'm not told, there will be problems I don't help solve. I'll miss the downtime, the fun time, the family dinners and UFC fights and masses that are all I've known my whole life. I feel like I'm having an organ transplant. Even though I'm taking out what's poisoning me, I'm still losing a piece of myself. And it aches.

We do the requisite hugging and well-wishing, more so with my siblings than my parents, who look aged and shell-shocked. I feel guilty, but not guilty enough to stay.

And, before anything is resolved, before I know what I'm really doing or if it's really a good idea, I'm driving. It doesn't take long to pull up where I need to be, but this is the goodbye that's
really
going to hurt. Luckily, it's still a day or two away.

The door to Evan's grandparents' house swings open and Mr. and Mrs. Early give me a lukewarm greeting.

"Winchester," Mr. Early says, gripping my hand too hard and sta
ring me down with a warning glare. For someone who resembles
a cross between Colonel Sanders and Santa Claus, this guy is pretty intimidating.

"Evan is up in her room." Mrs. Early still hasn't completely forgiven me for being the persis
tent suitor they couldn't get rid of
. She wanted me to disappear, let Evan date some nice boy from one of the families they knew. But I wasn't about to let that happen.

"Thank you, ma'am."
I give her my most charming smile, but she freezes me out. It must be something in Evan's bloodline that makes such
scarily
cold-hearted women.

I start up the stairs and find Evan sitting at her vanity, putting on the last of her makeup, her phone propped up and the speaker on. Her best friend is chattering to her.

"...nothing to worry about, sweets. He's going to be in a program, okay?
A stone cutting program or wha
tever.
Not to totally buy into the gender stereotype, but, realistically, how many girls could there
possibly be in a scho
ol like that? And that's beside
the point. He has you. What guy in his right mind would ever pursue any other girl when he has you?" Brenna's voice is bossy but caring. I love that she's got Evan's back.

I come up behind Evan and kiss her neck. She gets a big blob of black eye-makeup on her cheek. "Winch!" she squeals. "Don't sneak up on me when I'm putting on mascara. I could have poked my eye out!"

"Stop putting on mascara
like
such a sexy thing, and I won't be tempted." I pull a tissue out the box and try to wipe it off, but she springs back in horror and takes out some little container
of round cotton things and goes to work getting
the gunk off.
"Hey Brenna.
I like your advice."

"Hey Winch!" Brenna says, and, though I've never met her, I can almost picture her bouncing in her chair. "I know, right? Your girlfriend is so smar
t, but she's kind of being an idiot
about this."

"You just keep reminding her she's got nothing to worry about, okay?" Evan turns to me, the mascara blob gone, and kisses me full on the mouth. I immediately want her, but
I
can't
have her
. Not yet.

"I will. Have a safe trip, Winch. And good luck with the, uh, stone work!"

"Thanks, Bren,
"
I say, not able to keep down a sheepish smile. I’m excited about this.
All this.
My new life, my new job.
I can’t wait.

Evan grabs the phone and takes it off speaker so she can whisper whatever crazy girl
secrets she's telling her friend. When she hangs up, she
immediately
straddles my lap and presses against me.