Page 207 of Things We Left Behind
“You didn’t get to hit him yet. It’s pretty fuckin’ satisfying,” Knox said.
“Guess I’ll just insult him and call him names for being a coward who’s afraid of a little blond librarian,” Nash said.
That little blond librarian was more terrifying than any of us, and we all knew it.
Knox was half turned to look at his brother and didn’t see me coming. My fist plowed into the side of his face withsatisfying force. He stumbled sideways before recovering with a grin. “Nowthat’smore like it.”
“My turn,” Nash said, moving into position. “You don’t get to treat Sloane like she’s some one-night fuck. Doesn’t matter what went down between you two or how things end, you treat her with respect.”
“What are you two? Her big brothers?”
I feigned a punch and Nash ducked. He caught me with an uppercut to the solar plexus that knocked the breath right out of me. I swung again, glancing a shot off his jaw.
My friend, the goddamn chief of police, grinned wickedly and drew back his arm. I blocked, but not well enough. His blue-collar, law-abiding fist caught me on the bridge of the nose.
“Didn’t hear a crunch,” Knox said.
“I’m holding back, okay?” Nash muttered. He grunted as my left fist connected with his bad shoulder. “Oh, somebody’s here to play dirty,” he teased.
“I’m here to beat some sense into you two. Sloane means nothing to me.”
“Bull. Shit.” Nash punctuated each word with a fast jab. “I saw you climbing out of her bedroom window in high school. I see the way you look at her like she’s the goddamn sun and you’re not supposed to stare directly at her but you can’t help yourself.”
“None of us can, fucking idiot,” Knox added, shoving his brother out of the way and landing a punch to my eye.
“I’m not you. I’m not cut out for a relationship. Especially not one that neither of us wanted in the first fucking place,” I argued.
“Just ’cause you say you don’t want it don’t mean you don’t want it,” Knox said, ducking my fist.
Nash took a swig from a water bottle. “He’s the idiot who fake dated Naomi and then tried to real dump her.”
“Where the hell did you get a bottle of water?” I panted and slapped Knox across the face to change things up.
He was unfazed.
“I’m not in love with her, assholes.” The words tasted strange in my mouth. I chalked it up to blood.
“He’s a delusional idiot,” Stef assessed.
“Agreed,” Nash said, tagging back in.
“I feel sorry for him,” Jeremiah said.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked Stef as he pulled out his phone and started taking pictures.
“Immensely.”
Nash and I continued trading blows in a dignified, well-paced fistfight. It was so dignified that even the patrons just arriving in the parking lot didn’t bother hanging around to watch.
“Evenin’, folks,” Harvey Lithgow, a bear of a man in leather chaps, said as he wandered toward the front.
“Evenin’, Harvey,” we said in unison.
“You’re still holding back,” I complained when Knox jumped in to land a shot to my gut. My entire upper body already felt like I’d been backed over by a truck.
“Yep,” he said easily.
“You keep holding back, I’m gonna take advantage,” I warned, throwing an elbow that caught him squarely on the chin, followed by a shot to the gut.
