Fight Dirty: A Dawson Family Novel

by Goodwin, Emily

“His name is Todd?” Owen asks with a smirk.

  “Yes.”

  “Haven’t you seen any early 90s movies? The assholes are always named Todd.”

  “That is true,” Quinn agrees. “Or Brad. Avoid the Todds and Brads from now on.”

  “I plan to avoid everyone for a good while,” I say.

  Mrs. Dawson brings me a glass of wine. “Are you back in Eastwood for good then?”

  I take a sip of wine. “I’m not too sure. My dad has always wanted me to take over his firm, and one of the lawyers there is retiring soon, so it’s kind of good timing to move back permanently and start work.”

  “Your dad is Joseph Williams?” Scarlet asks.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “He’s a good man,” she tells me with a smile. “He helped us a lot with getting custody over Jackson.”

  I smile back. “Not all lawyers are bad.”

  The sliding doors leading from the breakfast nook to the patio open and Logan comes in.

  “I thought that was you.” He gives me a hug. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at Getaway. Shit, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

  “Uh, all right,” I say, not wanting to repeat everything. “It’s nice to be back. And congrats again on getting married.” I look at Danielle. “Both of you.”

  “Let’s go say hi to everyone else,” Owen says and stands up. “Get it over with.” He holds out his hand for me to take. Swallowing hard, I take it and let him help me pull me to my feet. We go outside on the patio where Mr. Dawson is grilling. Dean, Archer, and Weston are playing with Jackson and Emma. I’m introduced to Kara, Dean’s wife, who’s sitting in the sun reading a book. She’s polite enough, but it seems a little weird that she’s out here instead of being inside with Quinn and the others.

  With only ten minutes until dinner is ready, Owen slowly walks over to a shaded glider near the pool. I sit across from him, watching the kids run around the yard. Emma is trying so hard to keep up with Jackson and keeps falling in the grass. She pops right back up every time, laughing.

  “Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?” Owen pushes the glider forward.

  “It feels familiar.”

  “But good?”

  I shift my gaze from Owen to the growing corn in the field behind the yard. “I’m just trying to get back on my feet,” I remind him. “Just…don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to go down this path again,” I say softly. “My heart’s been through enough.”

  “I’m not that guy anymore, Charlie.” His brow furrows. “I promise you, I’m not.”

  I let out a breath and shake my head. It shouldn’t matter. I don’t want to get into a new relationship, let alone go back to an old one. But then something strange happens. My mouth opens, but the words don’t come from my head. They come from my heart.

  “Prove it.”

  Chapter 14

  Owen

  I will prove it.

  I’ll prove it a thousand times over and over again.

  I’m a changed man now that she is home and I have my second chance with her. The kind of man Charlie needs. The kind she’s always needed. I told her anyone willing to let her go was an idiot, and I’m the biggest one of all.

  There’s no denying it anymore. From the moment I saw her again, everything changed. The lies I’ve been telling myself became just that—lies. I don’t want to be single the rest of my life. I don’t want to just be an uncle. I was able to convince myself that it would be enough…and then I saw her again.

  And everything changed.

  “I remember you,” Jackson tells Charlie as we walk into the house for dinner. “You’re not sweaty now.”

  Charlie laughs. “Not yet. If I stay out here long enough, I will be.”

  “We could jump in the pool.”

  “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  “Sometimes I go in in my underpants,” Jackson tells her.

  “I like that idea,” I say, nudging Charlie with my elbow. She laughs and shakes her head.

  “Maybe another time,” she tells Jackson.

  “Are you Owen’s special friend? Scarlet was Daddy’s special friend for a while. First she was my nanny. Now she’s my mom.”

  “We’re just regular friends.”

  For now. I grab a tray of hamburgers from the grill, helping Dad bring in the food. A few minutes of chaos follow as everyone loads up their plates, pours themselves drinks, and sits around the table.

  Dad is the last one to join us at the table and comes over carrying copper mugs, passing out Moscow Mules to everyone but Quinn, who can’t drink since she’s breastfeeding Arya.

  I don’t catch it right away, but then I remember Danielle is pregnant. Other than Logan—of course—no one else knows, and they want to keep it that way until Danielle gets things checked out by the doctor.

  Danielle, who’s sitting next to me, looks across the table with a bit of panic at Logan. If she refuses to drink, it’ll be the first thing people ask her. Everyone knows they’ve been trying for another baby.

  She picks up her mug and brings it to her lips, pretending to take a sip. Mom says grace and then we all start eating. I pick up my own drink and suck it all down. Charlie watches me out of the corner of her eye but doesn’t say anything.

  Most days, I eat pretty healthy. Why put all the effort into working out when your nutrition sucks? But some days, like today, I’m just lazy. I had breakfast while watching TV and snacked the rest of the day, and came here with an empty stomach.

  Sucking down a drink isn’t a good idea.

  I take a big bite of my burger and then grab Danielle’s drink, trying to surreptitiously swap out our mugs.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, slowly moving her mug onto my placemat. I think we pulled it off.

  “How’s your cat?” Quinn asks Charlie. “I saw her at the vet when I stopped by to check on a litter of kittens from the shelter.”

  “She’s doing as well as she can be. She’s eager to get up and move around again.”

  “Poor thing. She’s very pretty. We don’t have any long hair cats.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” Archer puts his arm around Quinn. “Unless you want me to get a motorcycle.”

  “No way. Those are dangerous.”

  “Wait,” I say as I feel the vodka start to hit me. “If Quinn gets more cats, you get a motorcycle?”

  Archer chuckles. “That’s the deal. Actually, let’s go look for long-haired kittens.”

  Quinn narrows her eyes, trying to act like she’s mad at Archer. “I’d worry too much about you.”

  “You shouldn’t risk your hands,” Dean tells him.

  “Right,” I quip, looking at my brother. “That’s your favorite part, right? Wait, I mean second favorite.”

  “Hilarious,” Dean deadpans.

  “You’re a surgeon, right?” Charlie asks, sticking her fork into her salad.

  “Right. I do general surgery.”

  “I would see riding a motorcycle as an unnecessary risk then too.”

  “Thank you,” Quinn tells her. “I agree. Scraping up your hands aside, you have too much to lose.”

  “You sound like my mother,” Archer laughs. The conversation shifts from one subject to another, and by the time we’re almost done eating, I’ve finished my drink and the refill Dad got for Danielle.

  It doesn’t feel like I’ve had that much until I stand up and realize I’m pretty buzzed. Which is fine.

  But then we move onto dessert and Dean busts out a Mason jar of moonshine he got from one of the guys on the construction crew. He pours everyone but Quinn—and the kids, of course—a shot.

  “I don’t think I want to try this,” Charlie laughs, apprehensively sniffing the shot glass in her hands.

  “Me neither,” Danielle sets her glass down.

  “You’ve had it before,” Dean tells her. “And liked it. I got a second jar for you and Logan.”

  “Oh, uh
, thanks.” Her face starts to turn red. I’ve never wanted a baby or got anyone pregnant. I can only imagine how much it would hurt her and Logan to find out they were expecting only to lose it again, and I understand completely why they don’t want to tell the whole family out of fear they might have to go through everything all over again.

  So I do the only thing I can think of. Down my shot and reach for Danielle’s.

  “That is good.” I set the empty shot glass down. “Strong, but good.” Fuck, I’m so fucked. I can see Charlie looking at me again, and I do my best to act like I’m super interested in the last bit of food left on my plate.

  Danielle gets up to help Mom with the dessert she brought from her bakery, and Logan catches my eye from across the table. He gives me a curt nod, thanking me for taking Danielle’s drinks and saving her from having to explain why she’s not drinking. Dean pours us all another round, skipping Danielle this time since she’s not at the table, and that third shot goes down a lot smoother than the first.

  The moonshine hits me right as I’m digging into my chocolate cake. Leaning back, I let my fork fall to the plate and reach for my water instead. Moonshine isn’t supposed to be drank like shots.

  I’m drunk.

  Things move in a bit of a blur after that. Everyone else eats dessert and Logan comes up with an excuse to take me outside. I do my best to hold it together, but it’s obvious I won’t be able to drive Charlie home.

  I told her I changed, but as far as she can see it, I’m just the same as before.

  Chapter 15

  Charlie

  Owen closes his eyes in a long blink and picks up his keys from the breakfast table. I don’t know why I even entertained the thought of coming here with him. That he might be different than before.

  Changed.

  More mature.

  Not getting stumbling-through-the-kitchen-drunk at a family dinner. And stealing drinks from Danielle? What the hell was that? I snatch the keys from his hands before he can even say he’s good enough to drive us home.

  “Get in the car,” I snap, narrowing my eyes. I turn and plaster a smile on my face so I can thank Mrs. Dawson for dinner. My heart is in my throat, and I fear I might throw it up on the floor at any moment.

  Because it felt so good to be back here.

  To be around this amazing family…and Owen.

  Sitting there with the Dawsons, seeing them all married and happy and with babies…it gave me a stupid sense of hope. It brought me right back to college and beyond, when Owen was all I needed, and I thought—without a doubt—that we’d be married with babies of our own not long after graduation.

  He was everything to me.

  My first kiss. My first love. We lost our virginity together, but it was so much more than that.

  Owen was my world.

  If only I was his…

  “I’m okay,” he says, but doesn’t try to take the keys back from me.

  Ignoring him, I turn. Quinn is right there, telling Emma to put her shoes on. She looks over my shoulder at her brother, and her brows pinch together with concern.

  “I’ll take him home,” I tell her before she has to ask.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind? He can come back with us. Or stay here.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t mind. And I kind of want to get home to check on Tulip.”

  “Your cat, right. Don’t blame you there.” She bends over and helps Emma slide her feet into her shoes. “Don’t judge him,” she blurts, looking up at me. “He’s not usually like this, and I think he’s nervous being around you again. He won’t admit it, but we all know he’s still in love with you.”

  Her words break my heart even more, because it reminds me how much I love this family. They believe in each other one hundred percent and will do anything for each other.

  “If things were different,” I start, looking down at Quinn. Things have changed so much. She used to be like my little sister, and here she is, with her life together and living her dreams, giving me advice.

  “It was so nice to see you again,” Mrs. Dawson says as she comes into the kitchen. It’s a welcome distraction. We hug, I thank her for dinner, and then she sends us off with two large plates full of leftovers.

  Owen stumbles out of the house behind me, and it’s all I can do not to peel the foil off the plates and smear the food all over the front of Owen’s truck. It’s not entirely his fault. I mostly blame myself for giving him the chance to show me he changed.

  And then disappointing me.

  My mind goes back to what Marcus said, that Todd was my rebound after Owen. I didn’t put any merit in it before, but the hurt that I’m feeling right now is making me think that he was right after all.

  Until the end, things with Owen were perfect.

  Easy.

  He got me, and I got him.

  I didn’t have to put on a show for him. Didn’t have to get dressed up. Hell, I didn’t even have to shave my legs.

  And Owen always made me feel like I was enough. More than enough, really. We loved each other so, so much, and I thought love was enough to get us through anything.

  How did we fall apart?

  Looking behind me, I watch Owen drunkenly struggle to get out of the gate without letting any of the dogs out. The question of how we fell so far still haunts me, because for the life of me, I cannot figure it out.

  We were happy.

  In love.

  The sex was good. Really fucking good.

  Why wasn’t I enough for him? Maybe I dodged two bullets. Owen never grew up and Todd is an asshole.

  Maybe I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life.

  And I’m fine with blaming Owen for that. He ruined me. Gave me unrealistic expectations that even he couldn’t fill in the end. I open the passenger side door and wait for Owen to stumble his way across the gravel driveway and into the truck. Slamming the door, I force myself to take a deep breath. I’m mad at myself more than anyone else.

  I get in, move the seat up, and put the plates of leftovers on Owen’s lap.

  “Hold onto these. If they fall, I’m not cleaning up your truck.” I pull my seatbelt on and slowly back out of the driveway. Logan and Danielle come out of the house in somewhat of a rush, and it almost looks like Logan is flagging me down.

  I put the truck in drive, and it lurches forward, surprising me with the pickup. The last truck I drove was Owen’s, and that was back in college.

  “Charlie,” he starts, turning to look at me. His eyes are bloodshot but are also glossing over. I don’t think it’s from the alcohol, but I don’t want to give him the chance to sway me.

  Because if anyone can, it’s him.

  “Just…just don’t, Owen.” My own voice catches in my throat, and I lean forward, turning on the radio. Synced to Owen’s phone, his music automatically gets pulled up. He listens to the same stuff he did when we were together, and I love and hate that about him.

  I skip past three Def Leppard songs, another by Motley Crew, and am surprised when “Defying Gravity” comes on.

  “Seriously?” I turn, taking my eyes off the road for a split second. He has his head resting against the window as he clutches the plates of leftovers.

  “It reminds me of you,” he mumbles, and my eyes instantly fill with tears.

  Damn you, Owen Dawson.

  * * *

  “We’re at your house,” I say, putting the truck in park in the driveway. Owen sits up, blinking. “I’ll walk you in. I don’t want to be responsible if you stumble, fall, and then die of exposure from the heat or anything.”

  Owen doesn’t say anything. He blinks and undoes his seatbelt. Holding the plates of leftovers in one hand, he gets out and slowly walks up the driveway, using a keypad to open the garage doors. I stay a few feet behind him, watching to make sure he gets in the house okay.

  Going against my better judgment, I follow behind. Just to make sure the plates get put in the fridge and he gets himself water. The moment I step
inside the kitchen, I’m shocked. Because this does not look like the kind of house I’d expect Owen to live in.

  The kitchen is clean and impressive, with a huge island counter decorated with three apothecary jars full of fruit. The biggest jar is in the center, and the lemons inside of it set a theme for the rest of the decor. Nothing is over the top, but the little pops of yellow amongst the white and gray color scheme in the kitchen is Instagram-worthy.

  The kitchen opens into a living room, and the same colors are carried throughout that part of the house as well. The TV is obnoxiously large, giving me Owen-vibes, but everything else looks like it was copy and pasted right off of Pinterest.

  It even smells good in here. But looks mean shit, obviously. Owen’s house is perfect for a family, but he’s obviously not.

  He takes his phone out of his pocket, sets it on the island counter, and mumbles something about having to use the bathroom. Taking the leftovers, I go to the fridge and find a place to fit them in.

  His phone rings and I look over my shoulder to see who’s calling. It’s Logan, and I’m sure he’s wondering if Owen made it home okay. I silence the call and then get a big glass of water for Owen.

  I care more than I should, but I’m also a little curious to look around the rest of the house. Crossing through the kitchen, I set the water down on a glass coffee table in the living room. I gather my hair up in a ponytail and pull a hair tie off my wrist as I look around.

  There’s a two-story foyer right when you walk in through the front door, with a formal dining room on one side and another room, set up as an office, on the other. Things are neat and tidy, and I can’t get over how impressive and flawless the decorating is.

  “You can go,” Owen slurs, coming out of the bathroom. “And I’m sorry.”

  “It’s…it’s…it’s nothing I shouldn’t have expected,” I sigh.

  “It’s not, though,” he starts, eyes looking heavy.

  “Sit down.” I motion to the couch. “I got you some water. And Logan called, probably to make sure you’re not drowning in your own vomit or something.”