Page 208 of Things We Left Behind

He spat blood into the gravel and grinned. “Fuck around and find out.”

Melee wasn’t the right word for what proceeded. Without any real hatred driving us, we mostly just used our lifetime of history to sneak past each other’s defenses to land cheap shots.

“You give up yet?” Nash grunted.

We were all on the ground. I had Nash on his knees in a headlock. But he was making an admirable effort to dislocate my pinkie finger. Knox had my left arm pulled behind my back, and I had my foot in his groin.

“Everyone smile and say ‘dumbass,’” Stef said, stepping in front of us. Jeremiah stepped in front of us and flashed a cheesy smile and thumbs-­up as his boyfriend snapped another photo.

“Don’t make us beat your ass,” I warned him.

I released Nash, who mercifully let go of my pinkie, and gave Knox a half-­assed kick to the thigh. The three of us flopped over in the gravel, bruised and bleeding.

“Sloane is gonna kick your asses for kicking my ass,” I said, snapping my fingers for Stef to throw me my jacket. He hit me in the face with it.

“No fuckin’ way,” Knox said, swiping Nash’s water. “Girl hates your guts. She’ll probably give us trophies.”

I shook my head and produced my cigarette and lighter. “She’ll be pissed you didn’t let her have any of the fun.”

“Why can’t you just take a shot with her?” Nash asked.

I savored the first sweet sting of tobacco, then exhaled toward the night sky. “Because she’s too good for me.”

The brothers guffawed.

“What?” I demanded.

“You think I was good enough for Angelina?” Nash asked with a smirk.

Knox grinned. “Iknownone of you think I was anywhere near Daisy’s league.”

“This is true,” Stef agreed. “They’re both a thousand times too good for you.”

“Aren’t relationships supposed to make you feel worthy?” I asked. It sounded like something my therapist would have said.

“Pretty sure the only dumbass who can make you feel worthy is you,” Nash said.

“The second you think you’re as good as or better than your woman is the second it all starts goin’ to hell,” Knox said.

I swiped my bleeding mouth across my sleeve and took another drag. “So you’re just supposed to what? Drag them down to your level?”

Knox threw a pea-­sized piece of gravel at me. “No, you fucking moron. You’re supposed to spend the rest of your lucky-­ass life trying to live up to them.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It sure ain’t for the faint of heart,” Jeremiah said.

I rubbed my jaw. My face and fists hurt like a bitch. But that tightness in my chest seemed just a little looser.

“You comin’ back in?” Knox asked, gesturing toward Honky Tonk.

I shook my head. I needed to be alone.

Stef and Jeremiah hauled the Morgan brothers to their feet.

Nash reached down and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not a bad guy, Luce. You’re just an idiot.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly and watched the brothers limp back to the bar together. Jeremiah followed with a wink at Stef.