Page 16 of Fierce-Gabe

“You don’t want to know,” his mother said.

“Oh, I do,” he said. “Might as well air all the dirty laundry out.”

“Gabe knows something about dirty laundry,” Jayce said. “His laundry room has piles of clothes on the floor.”

“What are you doing in my laundry room?” he asked. “You’re here for three days. Did you bring laundry to do here because you don’t want to go into the laundry room in your complex?”

“I have my own laundry room in my condo,” Jayce said. “You’d know that if you looked.”

“I haven’t been there in a few years,” he said. “I wasn’t snooping around at your place. I stayed in the spare room and used the bathroom.”

It’s not like he had time to go visit him in Charlotte. He’d gone to a game a few years ago. Two games actually. A time he could take a few days off of work and stayed with his brother and got the VIP treatment. It’d been great, he did have to admit.

“I’m more interested in who they think would be a good fit for Gabe,” Jayce said.

“Yeah,” he said. “They have to have a name and you know it.”

More looks between his parents. “Fine,” his father said. “They seem to think it’s Elise Kennedy. I’ve told them no. They are wrong. You two mix like oil and water.”

He laughed. Hard. This couldn’t have worked out any better in his mind.

Not that he’d admit it to anyone in this room.

He figured that he’d hear who it was the Fierces had lined up and then just ignore it or tell them to forget it.

But not now. Now he’d have to think of this. It could be he could work it in his favor once he figured it out more.

“See,” his mother said. “You’re laughing.”

“Gabe laughs at everything,” Jocelyn said. “But even I know that one won’t work. Why do you two have such a beef with each other?”

“I don’t have a beef with her,” he said. “But she seems to have one with me.”

“It’s probably because you’re prettier than her,” Jayce said. “Women don’t like that.”

“Asshole,” he said.

He’d heard it more than once when he was a kid. That he had soft features.

His skin was nice. Smooth. Soft.

Almost feminine.

No teenage boy wanted to hear those words.

The only thing he could be thankful for was the fact that he was over six foot by thirteen years old. Facial hair started to come in around fifteen, but it was in patches and he had to keep it shaved to not look silly.

He was big and tough to go with his laid back personality.

The girls loved it.

He had his fair share but then learned they wanted it all for the wrong reasons.

What he wanted was someone that was a straight shooter.

That said it like it was.

That didn’t worry if they stepped on toes.

---