Page 82 of Ly to Me

Nothing would calm me down.

Someone would have to rip me from him.

“Carver Roland!” A woman’s voice cut in, but I was too far gone as Noah’s body became limp beneath me. Pressure dug into my arms, forcing them to stop as they pried me from the unconscious asshole on the ground. “What on earth are you doing to your friend?!”

Red faded from view long enough to register the voice—

My mother.

Fuck.

“Do I need to ask what happened today, son?” my dad asked, staring down at the bag of peas I had pressed to my knuckles, then the one held up to my cheek. Somehow, Noah had gotten a few hits on me, but I hadn't registered the hits, just the ones I was dealing.

Safe to say I was the winner on that account.

I exhaled, long and sharp. “Not if you don’t want to.”

His blue eyes, almost the same as mine only slightly lighter, hovered around my injuries and the set of stairs behind me as we sat in the front living space. Most families never actually used this kind of room, but we did. Typically on game nights, or when more relatives came over, or during Christmas time, when my mother would put one of our three trees up in this very room. The memories made me wish Lyra was here, spending time with my family, because I knew she’d experienced nothing like that.

“Son?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you think you could try to not give your mother such a start next time. Maybe save the fighting for the Corps?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Of course, dad.”

The Corps, AKA the Marines, AKA the thing I wasn’t sure I was actually going to go through with anymore.

“You’re lucky your mom and Noah’s mom have been friends for years since you two played sports together growing up.”

I nodded, remembering every sport I subsequently left because I was so set on joining the Marines that I didn’t wantsome scout trying to convince me otherwise when I got older. Call it conceited, but when the coaches tell you your future is bright and beam at you while they tell you to win every game for them, no matter the sport, you start to take it to heart.

And once I had my mind set on something, I was all in.

“Is this about that girl you keep sneaking into our house?” The smile on my dad’s face was a shock, but one I couldn’t help not to reciprocate.

“You know?”

He laughed and leaned back on the couch. “Your mother and I were young once, too. We know what it’s like to be eighteen and full of hormones. Do we also need to have the safe sex talk with you again or is it just the fights we need to discuss?”

“Dad.”

He held both hands up, still grinning. “Right, right. Fine. But we’d love to meet her, even if she does turn you into…well, a heathen.”

“Noah did that on his own.”

His brows furrowed, then relaxed again. “I’m not sure I actually want to know what happened, but I am still interested in this girl, even if you were fighting over her.”

“Even so, huh?”

“Even so.” My dad tapped my knee, then rose from the couch.

“Dad?”

“Son?”

His shoulders hunched, concern etched on every sloping line of his face as he looked down at me, covered in bags of frozen vegetables. “I’m not sure about the Marines anymore,” I finally said.