Page 58 of Master Debater

It left the ball in someone else’s court. If I didn’t lob it their way, there wasn’t a chance they’d reject it or hold on to it to later hang over my head. I’m not sure what caused me to feel that way about apologizing or admitting I was wrong. Only that, up until this very moment, after having two of the people I cared most about in my life point it out, I hadn’t realized how strongly it’d been engrained in my personality.

Rylee shook her head at me, took up her red aluminum can, and pivoted on her heel, a step into a dramatic storm-outs.

Not again. I can’t lose her too. I lunged forward, caught her elbow, and spun her to face me.

At first, the sticky splatter didn’t make sense, my brain struggling to process why I was wet, and then whether Rylee had thrown her drink at me. But I’d been the one who grabbed her arm without paying attention, and the force had resulted in a spray of liquid that hit me and the floor.

She pressed her lips together, doing her best not to laugh or cry, or perhaps both.

A snorted laugh burst from me first, and then she joined in. I took the can from her, set it aside, and pulled her into my arms for a hug. “I’m so sorry, Ry. You’re right. I got so caught up in my own stuff and throwing a grandstanding pity-party for myself over having to constantly fix everything for everyone. I’m starting to think that I ended up doing more damage than anything.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t really get to be sad when Dad died. Mom and I were falling apart, and you held us together and made sure we, along with everything else, was taken care of. We both appreciate that. Even if it made you even bossier than you’d been before, and you were just about unbearable as it was.”

I pulled away enough to shoot her a look that made her give me a wide, unabashed grin. “I feel like you’ve had that one locked and loaded for a while.”

“Totally. I just needed you to keep me out of prison before I used it. But now it’s too late for you to take back my plea bargain. Sucker.” She wrapped her arms around me again, and as I hugged her back, my brain kept on spinning. “If you do enough groveling and sincere apologizing, it might not be too late for you to win back your addiction. Usually, it’s recommended you quit those sorts of things, but you’re far worse without Willa than you are with her. Jameson and Kat will agree with me…won’t you, guys?”

My arms automatically dropped, as though having my buddy see me hug my sister was an embarrassing show of emotion. If he dared to make fun of me for being mushy right now, I’d assure him it was completely normal. And then use all the dirt I’d gathered on him for the past two decades, along with how soft he was whenever it came to Kat.

Great. My mom was with them too, peeking her head around Jameson and looking on with intense curiosity.

“In the name of transparency,” Jameson said, “it’s the real reason Kat and I insisted he come to dinner with us tonight. I offered to drive so we could ply him with liquor, in hopes that’d help him see sense, but we weren’t going to let him leave without forcing him to admit how miserable he is without Willa in his life.”

Mom thew a hand to the center of her chest. “Oh, phew. I thought Rashida and I were going to have to set up some elaborate scheme, as he’s too afraid to even go home where he might see Willa right no?—”

“Mom.” I widened my eyes at her, begging her not to mortify me like I was some teenager who was too cool for school. “I’m not afraid. I’ve been busy.”

Great. Now I had four skeptical expressions aimed in my direction.

I heard the door swing open, and while I was beginning to open myself to the idea of at least sitting down with Gil and Bobby, if they were part of this ambush, heads were going to roll.

Ben and Christiano strolled into the room, hand in hand. They glanced from person to person, and then Ben lifted his wrist to check the time. “Are we late? I’m looking at this new fancy watch from my smokin’ hot boyfriend, and I swear we’re right on time. Wasn’t the intervention supposed to happen at dinner?”

Kat glanced over her shoulder at Ben. “Evidently, Rylee started it early, without even knowing we’d planned on asking her to come along and help.”

My sister nodded, as happy as a dog with two tails over the part she’d played.

“If it pleases the court,” I said, nice and loud. My ragtag group of meddlesome family and friends seemed to forget I was accustomed to pressure-filled situations and being up against a box of dubious jurors. “All of this is hearsay.”

“You forget that we can see you.” Once again, Rylee tugged on my beard. Then she flipped the collar of my shirt, which was a bit crumpled after two days of wear. “You look awful.”

“Miserable,” Ben added, and Kat, Christiano, and Mom added their agreement.

Jameson stepped forward and clapped me on the shoulder. “You look like shit, man.” He glanced at my mom. “Pardon my language, Mrs. Fox.”

Mom gave me a consoling smile with way too much pity in the curve. “If we’re aiming for the truth, there’s not a better way to put it.”

“Gee thanks, Mom. Seriously, if you guys help much more, I’m going to have to scrape my self-esteem off the floor.”

“That’d be one big-ass shoe,” Kat muttered, not even bothering to ask to be pardoned. Everyone just chuckled, and it was definitely at, not with, me. They’d all be in contempt in a real court, but they had a point.

Being sure of myself served me well when it came to my job. But for all my cockiness when it came to handling the pressure that came along with trials, shakiness set in as the full extent of the damage I’d caused became evident.

I’d fucked up. Bad. Worse than I’d ever botched any case, any testimony, any cross-examination, any anything.

Once again, Willa’s voice filled my head. It’s about me, and what happens when I give myself over to someone I care about.

I’d been so fixated on what she told me about Bobby and Gil that I missed the other things she said during that conversation.

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