Page 45 of Holding The Reins

“He what?” Rage takes over Wade’s face and I groan, putting my head in my hands. “Where is that fucker? Is he at the Motorside?” He mentions the only hotel in town.

“He’s probably gone and if you want to beat his ass, you’ll have to get in line. Nash already gave him a shit kickin’,” I say as they both turn to face me.

“Nash hit Andrew? Nash was with you?” Wade asks.

“No. He was on a date, I think. He must have seen Andrew grab my arm and he—”

“He grabbed you?” Wade is about to go feral.

“Too much testosterone for one night,” I say. “It’s handled, Wade. He knows I’m not going back to Seattle. Nash told him to get out of his town.” I laugh and this makes my mother break into the cheekiest little grin.

“That boy has been kicking ass for you your whole life. It doesn’t surprise me he was there.”

“Right place, right time. I’ll be thanking him tomorrow,” Wade says.

A thought occurs to me.

“Wait, what do you mean he’s been kicking ass for me my whole life?” I ask.

Wade chuckles. “It’s ancient history now, I guess. But pretty much every guy that ever looked at you the wrong way, or said anything about you even remotely unflattering, Nash was always the first one in line to lay a beat down.”

I gulp. “What?”

Mama uses her hand to cup my face.

“You deserve so much better than Andrew, baby. I’m glad Nash was there.”

“Who did Nash beat up?” I ask Wade, looking at him over my mom’s shoulder with her hands still on my face. I’m not letting Mama change the subject.

Wade chuckles. “Michael Merriweather, he said he was gonna take your v-card at junior prom.”

Mama cuffs him in the shoulder.

“Steven Connolly, Jason Westman, Paul Stevenson,” he continues.

“So everyone I ever tried to date?” I ask in horror.

“No, just everyone that ever talked shit about you to anyone,” Wade says.

My mind is racing.

“Anyway, I’m not surprised he hit Andrew, and I’m not mad about it either. He’s had it coming. Pa is slow clapping from the grave, I’ll be shaking Nash’s hand for that one.”

I sit on the couch and try to register that Nash has been going behind my back participating in his own personal defend CeCe fight club for my entire adolescence. But why? My brain is fried.

“I want to go to bed. I love you both, y’all don’t have to go home but you have to leave now,” I say quietly and thankfully, neither of them argue.

“Okay, baby,” Mama says, kissing on the top of my head.

“Put tonight behind you. Tomorrow is a new day and you’re already off to a great start here. You just keep at it.”

I nod. “Thanks, Mama. I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you,” she says

“Night, Wade.”

“Night, CeCe Rae. Don’t be too hard on Nash when you see him tomorrow, he’s always had your back. Like me and Cole.”

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