Page 17 of Fight Or Flight

Eric

Ithink I fucked up last night. Er—correction, I know I fucked up. But, in my defense, it was bound to happen, eventually. I mean, have you actually met my parents?

They might’ve surprised us all when they announced they had a solid plan yesterday, but for the most part, those two live life flying by the seat of their pants and have made their fair share of not so stellar decisions from time to time. Come to think of it, I specifically remember a story about my mom wielding a bat around a few times. So, it’s in the genes.

Don’t make it right, though.

“Dude, you are extra fucking weird today,” Danny says as we walk to the bus stop. “And where the fuck is your brother?” he questions, looking over his shoulder for Robert. “Are we leaving him at school or did the little ballbuster get detention?”

“He’s not riding with us today.”

If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t ride with us tomorrow either.

After our parents revealed their plan to move Brooklyn and Joss into our home, things got a little hairy. Bella had a playroom on the first floor that my parents cleared out to make room for the hospital bed that was delivered this morning before they discharged Joss from the hospital. Mom suggested Brooklyn should have her own room. The girl was going through hell and she thought having her own space might be helpful when it all became too much for her.

But as a family of six living in a four-bedroom house, we were already short on rooms. Me, being the oldest, I had my own room. Anthony and Eric shared one and Bella, being the only girl, got her own room too. Before my parents could ask me to give up my room, I offered. Conveniently we had a pull-out couch in the basement that I could sleep on and there was plenty of room for my crap down there. Besides, between school and my part-time job at Kate’s as a busboy, I wasn’t home all that much, anyway.

It just made sense.

Of course, Rob didn’t see it that way and thought me offering up my room was an excuse to get into Brooklyn’s pants. That’s about the time our dad pulled us aside and read us the riot act, warning us both to keep our dicks in our pants.

“Brooklyn needs friends, she needs people she can depend on when her mom passes. What she doesn’t need is the two of you hunting her like she’s your prey. There are plenty of frisky felines for the two of you to sink your teeth into. She isn’t one of them.”

Brooklyn was off-limits and that’s fine by me. Don’t get me wrong, I was sure living under the same roof with a girl as gorgeous as she is would be torture. A certain kind of agony that keeps you awake all hours of the night with your hand permanently wrapped around your dick, but I could deal with it. After all, what is life without a little sacrifice?

Or so I thought.

I got my first dose of torture last night when I walked in on her grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen. Somewhere in the back of my head I was aware the girl was fucking distraught, and I needed to listen to my dad, but seeing her in her pajamas…well, let’s just say the rest of my body didn’t get the memo.

“Then fuck the bus. Let’s walk to the next stop. I’ve got a cannon the size of my head in my back pocket and you look like you need to smoke.”

Not one to turn down weed, I nod in agreement. We cross the street and he reaches for the blunt he has safely tucked in his pants and a lighter. Setting that shit ablaze, he hits it first.

He and Rob are the same age, making him a year younger than me, but we’ve always got along better. It’s probably because we both don’t give a shit about anything. We do what we want when we want, consequences be damned. The only thing we don’t see eye to eye on is our futures. While I don’t want any part of the motorcycle club, Danny is certain he wants to follow in his father’s footsteps and is counting down the days until he can be a prospect for the Satan’s Knights.

He’s got some pretty big shoes to fill considering his dad, Uncle Jack, is the former president of the club. If it wasn’t for his longtime battle with mental illness, Uncle Jack would probably still be in charge, but the Devil’s work became too much for the man and he turned over his kingdom to my grandpa.

Blowing out a billow of smoke, he coughs and passes the joint back to me.

“So, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume your mood has something to do with your new house guest.”

How perceptive of him.

“I still can’t believe Bones has a daughter, and no one knew,” he continues. “Shit, Riggs must be losing his shit.”

I take another hit. This time I hold my breath and welcome the burn in my throat. Blowing out a thick cloud smoke, I cough and pass the joint back to him.

My dad is actually calm.

It’s the rest of us that are losing our minds.

“I think we all are,” I admit, hitching my backpack further up my shoulder. “Specifically, me.”

Danny brings the blunt to his lips and arches an eyebrow.

“Learning she exists was a shock itself, but knowing her mom is dying and she has no one—well, I don’t know how to feel,” I explain, pausing to think about my words.

Honestly, I don’t want to feel anything.

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