Page 30 of Fight Or Flight

“Consider it done. I’ll get my equipment out of the garage and we can get started right away, but why don’t you take a break for a little while? I’ll sit with her.”

I know he means well, but what if she wakes up and I’m not here? When all you got left is a couple of days, you don’t want to miss a single second.

“Just for a little bit,” he adds, glancing back at my mom. “I made a promise to your mom and I need you to trust me right now so I can fulfill that promise.”

That spikes my curiosity, and I narrow my eyes at him as he turns to me.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

Before I can object, he holds out his hand for me to take. I can’t leave him hanging, not when he’s yet to let me fall. Without thinking too much into it, I lay my notebook on the nightstand and place my hand in his. He smiles at me and pulls me to my feet. I blow a kiss to my sleeping mom and let him lead me out of her room, down the hall to the front door. He pauses to retrieve my jacket from the coat closet and helps me slide my arms through the sleeves.

As soon as we step outside my eyes drift to where Eric is switching between painting and waxing his dad’s truck. Maybe he has ADD or something, either way, he looks miserable. Suddenly, he turns around and our eyes lock. The paintbrush falls from his hand as he stares at me. Those stupid butterflies must not have gotten the memo that I don’t have time for silly crushes. They flutter just as strongly as they did three nights ago, and like an idiot, I wave at him.

Luckily, Riggs realizes I’m not following him across the front lawn and calls my name, sparing me from further making a fool of myself. I quickly look away from Eric.

“Sorry,” I mutter to Riggs.

Drawing my jacket closed, I pull the zipper up and stalk across the lawn. When I reach him, his gaze is trained on his son and there is a smirk on his lips. I don’t look back at Eric, but I’m curious as to why his father is so amused by his bizarre behavior.

“Why is he painting the fence and waxing the car at the same time?”

“Penance,” Riggs replies smugly, bring his eyes back to me. This time I can’t help myself. I glance back at Eric and sure as shit he’s switched from painting the fence to waxing the car. I swear he seemed so normal the other night.

Shaking my head, I look back at Riggs.

“What did he do?”

He crosses his arms against his chest and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, for starters, he stole his uncle’s car which he then proceeded to wreck by crashing into your mom’s car.”

The sudden urge to defend Eric claws at me. Sure, robbing the car was intentional, but I don’t believe he purposely rear-ended my mom.

“But that was an accident,” I argue.

Riggs chuckles.

“He accidentally robbed his uncle’s car?”

“No, I mean hitting my mom’s car—I don’t think he meant to do that.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Riggs agrees.

He sighs and looks toward the house for a second before bringing his gaze back to me. Lowering his voice, he continues, “Between you and me? I’d let him off the hook. I mean, I’ve stolen a car or two.” He pauses and cocks his head to the side. “Stole a lot more than that from the Red Dragons,” he says thoughtfully. “Shit, that’s really not a story for you. Forget I said that.”

“Forgotten,” I assure him with a smile. He really is a little crazy.

“But Kitten insists on teaching him a lesson, so here we are. Just call me Mr. Miyagi.”

My brows knit together.

“Mr. Who?”

As soon as I ask the question his eyes go wide.

“You’ve never seen The Karate Kid?” he admonishes.

“Um…no.”

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