Page 26 of Fighting

“Gabe’s old car, right?” It’s from the late eighties. Maybe the early nineties.

“Yeah, but we can’t all go out and buy whatever we want all the time.” She lowers her head, her focus fixed on her hands. “I could do that stuff I make good enough money. The problem is Ema.”

“E. Mah?”

“E-Ma. Don’t you know I use the Hebrew words for mom and dad?”

“No shit, me too. Well, not Hebrew. I use Tagalog. We call our parents Nanay and Tatay.” I huff a laugh. “I guess you probably know that, being so close to Stef.”

I lean on the console between us, my arm brushing hers.

“Ema and Aba.” She nods once.

“So, what about your Ema?”

“She’s been on some giant work assignment, and she’s barely around lately. It’s like, without her around, everybody comes to me when they need something. There was the time Shae drank too much, and I covered her ambulance cost. Tal needed help with textbooks last semester, and I didn’t want to worry our parents… and…” She shrugs.

“Oldest child steps up,” I say. “True that. True that.”

“I love supporting my siblings, helping them when I can, but I was saving that money for car repairs. Unfortunately, the car has decided it’s time to be put to rest.”

“If you woke up tomorrow and your dream car was parked in your driveway, what would it be?” I glance at her before returning my eyes to the road.

She’s begun to finger-comb her hair, pulling three strands out and starting a tiny braid. Her hands tremble through the motion and her voice shakes as she firmly shoots me down. “Mateo, absolutely not. No.”

“What if it was just a rental? While you figure it out?” I push because I never know when to quit.

She wets her lips, and now I can’t help but think of kissing her. I want to fight with her and take care of her. It’s a compulsion that continues to bubble inside me.

Her protest comes out in the cutest little whine, her gaze on her shoes. “No. Please don’t offer to pay for things.”

“No extravagant gifts. Got it. Then here’s my final offer,” I say, using a game show host tone. “Mateo will be Nessa’s personal chauffer until other arrangements can be secured.”

Tapping her lips, Nessa lets out a soft “hmm” and shifts in her seat. “I can just call you at the drop of a hat and you’ll come running? Go anywhere?”

Her eyes have lifted again, meeting mine briefly. The golden threads through the soft brown irises twinkle with the return of the mischievous girl.

When she puts it that way, my cock twitches, eager to scream “fuck yes. Use me.”

“Yep. Exactly,” I say, though my throat’s gone dry. I reach for a water bottle, but the cupholder is empty.

Perky and beaming a wide, toothy smile, she agrees. “Sounds fun. Now, back to the rules.”

With a groan, I drop my head back against the seat.

“Rule number one: No seeing other women.”

I chuckle. Pausing to consider whether to turn it around on her, suggesting she not see other men. But I can’t think of the last time anyone talked about Nessa dating. Not to mention her comment about the number of men she’s been with. Does she date?

Setting aside the serious question, I use this opportunity to make these “rules” as ridiculous as I find the concept.

“Fine. Rule number two: When we’re in public, you must say at least one nice thing to me or about me.”

Her lips kick up on one side. “Can I still be mean the rest of the time?” The earnestness is adorable.

“Actually, I’d prefer it.” I reach across the car in an attempt to hold her hand.

She pulls back. “Rule number three: No unnecessary touching or kissing.”

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