Fall Guy

by Liz Reinhardt

  He doesn’t even look back. “We are. His family.”

  “All of you? Siblings?”

  I expect her to single me out, but I at least have the dark hair and light eyes the rest of them share. It’s blond Ithaca she’s frowning at.

  “All of us.” Winch says the next words with such a simple flip, I’m almost able to keep the shock off my face. “My brother, my younger sisters, my wife.”

  My heart races, and I feel a blush born from a mix of happiness and embarrassment stain my cheeks. It’s a credit to the Youngblood penchant for lying that not one of them even draws an audible breath.

  The nurse raises an eyebrow, but there’s something about Winch that people want to believe, and, in seconds, we’re headed up to the hallway she directs us to, hushed in the chemically-pungent corridors, not making a single sound other than the squeak of our sneakers on the polished linoleum.

  Mr. and Mrs. Youngblood are at the nurse’s station. Her eyes are red and bleary, and she’s desperately clutching a balled-up tissue in her fist. He looks pale and gray-skinned, his paunch and thinning hair somehow more obvious and relentlessly aging in the dull fluorescent lights. They’re both incredibly stupid, selfish parents, but my hate for them melts when I see the crippling weight of their sadness. Even if their problems are their own damn fault, I have a heart.

  A small, mean heart, but a heart nonetheless, and it’s filled with pity.

  Winch approaches his father. “Pop, what do they say?”

  “They think the seizures were caused by the mix of drugs in his system. He has a concussion from hitting his head. There’s been some damage to his kidneys and his liver isn’t looking so good, but may be repairable.” Mr. Youngblood lists Remy’s ailments in a monotone.

  “Can we see him?” Ithaca asks, biting her lips.

  I know she’s upset that she stormed out of the room before it happened, even if there wasn’t a single thing she could have done to help him. I know because irrational guilt is something I get.

  “We know we need to let him rest,” their mother says to the nurse on duty, her voice thick. “Can his brother and sisters see him? Just for a minute?”

  The nurse behind the desk frowns to let everyone know that Remy’s not well, that this can’t be a long visit. “Just for a minute.”

  Winch has my hand in his, but I pull back gently. “Not me.”

  “You belong in there. Remy would have wanted it,” he argues.

  His father sighs and shakes his head behind Winch’s back, and his mother’s eyes narrow at me.

  “No. Go see your brother.” I push him to the room, and he walks over, looking back at me a few times as he does.

  As soon as he disappears into the room, his father turns to me.

  “It would be best if you didn’t see my son for a while,” Mr. Youngblood says, straightening his back and looking down his crooked nose at me. “We’re going to have a serious family situation to deal with, and the last thing he needs is an outsider taking his attention away from what’s important.”

  A few weeks ago, Mr. Youngblood’s little dictate would have been all it took to make me crumble inside, push me away and make me roll over and give up. But Winch and I are a unit now. A team. Where he goes, I go. What he does, I do.

  So I look both his parents in the eye, first one, then the other, and hold my hand out, palm up.

  “I have no interest in what either one of you thinks I should do. Please give me my phone back before I have to report it stolen.”

  His mother clicks her tongue and mutters something about “disgusting lack of manners,” and his father yanks my phone out of his pocket like it’s a germ-ridden piece of crap before he slaps it into my palm.

  “You’re feeling high off of this right now, missy, but listen to me.” He wags a finger in my face, so close I could snap out and bite it if I wanted. And it takes everything in me to keep myself from following through with what I want. “Winchester is loyal to his blood. He’s misguided right now, by you, by what you’re probably doing with him between the sheets.” I veer back in open disgust, and his snaking smile tells me that he knows he’s pushed over a line and doesn’t care. “But that fades. He’ll come back to us. He’ll forget you. I wish you’d make it easy on yourself and just leave before you wind up dumped.”

  My spine stiffens and my throat tightens. I have to force myself not to blink until the threat of tears is gone, and I work hard to get my voice under control so I can answer him.

  “Trust me. He’s never coming back to you.”

  It’s a bet. It’s a bet on Winch that I’m willing to make even if I can’t see the end result, like I always could with the horse races.

  He comes out of Remy’s room just then, his lips pinched and white, and the look of sadness in his eyes makes his mother flick a smile and an arched brow of triumph my way.

  But it’s me he goes to, me he folds in his arms for a long, tight few seconds. I grip right back, and hope that our love will be strong enough, that we’ll have what it takes to make it through all of this together.

  Winch 16

  My stomach is twisted in knots. My parents are standing in the hallway outside my room, glaring, arms crossed, feet tapping, and the hate and anger they’re obviously feeling simmers and pollutes every ounce of space.

  “This is unnecessary, son.” My father gestures to my nearly empty room. “This is still your home. You wanna strike out on your own? Okay, fine. But you don’t just strip your past clean.”

  I stack the boxes neatly, but I don’t feel any energizing hum of defiance or righteous fury. I feel old and sapped. I feel a little like my brother must have when the hospital finally released him, spent and barely able to stand up straight.

  When I went with him to sign into the long-term rehab facility, I was pretty sure it was just one last attempt to stall the inevitable, and that he’d check himself out and find the closest bar fast. But he’s been there, role-playing and keeping a journal and talking to a whole team of doctors.

  Which is why I’m leaving.

  I have to if I want my brother to live.

  I have to if I want a shot at a real future for myself.

  “I think it’s time for a clean start, Pop.” I pull a long piece of packing tape over the closed flaps of the last box. “Remy needs this.”

  His eye twitches, and I regret saying the last words.

  “Remy need this? How, exactly, do you think it’s possible that Remy needs not having his family together, working to get him back on his feet? Or is this going to be where you repeat all that psycho babble those quack doctors are charging me an arm and a leg to throw in my face?”

  My dad’s voice is so loud, it brings Colt shuffling out of his room.

  “Are you leaving today, Winch?” He eyes the boxes and then me. For the first time in a long time, my brother looks at me with something other than disgust; he looks proud.

  A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit if Colt was proud of me or not. Now I’m glad he can look up to me for doing the one thing every Youngblood is trained never to do; walk away from the family.

  “Yeah. I’m packing the last of it today, and moving into my apartment.” I turn back to my father. “And, what the doctors say? It’s not psycho babble,” I explain for the hundredth time, even though I should just drop it. I start to lift a box that’s a little too big, but, before I rip my back out, Colt swoops in to grab the other end and grins at me. I grin back and look at my parents. “They explained how what we do, what I do specifically, enabled Remy. When he gets out, he’s gonna need to be so careful about things. I don’t want him to fall back on bad habits.”

  “How will he get well without us around him?” my mother asks, grabbing at the gold and ruby cross around her neck. She’s been going to extra masses for weeks, praying about the whole situation. Sometimes I wonder what, exactly, she’s asking God for. Most of the time, I’m glad I don’t know.

  “He has a support team,” I remind
her. “And I’m not out of his life forever. I’m keeping my distance for now. Just until he’s back on his feet.”

  “So you’re planning to come back to the family, run things like you did?” My dad’s face is so relieved, I feel like a dick smoking holes in his fantasy of us being one big, obedient family again.

  “I have my own plans, Pop. I love you all, but it’s time I did what I need to do.”

  Colt picks up three boxes that are probably too heavy for him. “You want me to bring these out for you?”

  My little brother has always hated arguments and fights, ever since he was a tiny kid. Lately it’s been brawls day in and out around here, and since he sees another one brewing, he’s eager to get away from it.

  “Thanks, Colt.” I watch him leave, then turn my attention back to my parents, who look like they’re in mourning when they should be happy. “I’m going to apprentice. That’s a good thing. And Remy is getting treatment. That’s good, too.”

  “I don’t understand how all this good stuff has to come when you’re all so far from this family,” my father argues. Mama puts an arm around his waist and presses her cross to her lips.

  It’s so obvious, I consider not answering him. But I was blindsided by my family for years. It took almost losing my brother and the girl I love to wake me up. Maybe losing me and Remy will be the wake-up call my parents need.

  “Because the family isn’t working the way it needs to,” I explain as patiently as I can. “So we need to separate on some levels. I’m still your son. I still love you.”

  My father looks at me for a few long beats, and I wonder if any of what happened in the past few weeks is going to sink in for him, going to change him. But he just grimaces and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, you got a real funny way of showing us your love, son. That’s for sure.”

  He and my mother watch silently as Colt and I pack the boxes into the U-Haul I rented. My sisters come out of their rooms just as we’re finishing, and we all move to the front room.

  So this is it.

  I don’t feel as good as I imagined I would. A lot has changed in a short amount of time, and I know that there’s this time in my life or this place I once had that’s gone forever. I’m glad I’m moving on, but, even with all the shit my family got itself wrapped up in, there was still a lot I loved about being so close to them. Evan’s Sometimes, Always, Never game flashes through my brain.

  I’ll always love my family.

  I’ll see them sometimes.

  I’ll never be under their thumb again.

  But never being under their thumb means that I’ll be shut out. There will be secrets I’m not told, there will be problems I don’t help solve. I’ll miss the downtime, the fun time, the family dinners and UFC fights and masses that are all I’ve known my whole life. I feel like I’m having an organ transplant. Even though I’m taking out what’s poisoning me, I’m still losing a piece of myself. And it aches.

  We do the requisite hugging and well-wishing, more so with my siblings than my parents, who look aged and shell-shocked. I feel guilty, but not guilty enough to stay.

  And, before anything is resolved, before I know what I’m really doing or if it’s really a good idea, I’m driving. It doesn’t take long to pull up where I need to be, but this is the goodbye that’s really going to hurt. Luckily, it’s still a day or two away.

  The door to Evan’s grandparents’ house swings open and Mr. and Mrs. Early give me a lukewarm greeting.

  “Winchester,” Mr. Early says, gripping my hand too hard and staring me down with a warning glare. For someone who resembles a cross between Colonel Sanders and Santa Claus, this guy is pretty intimidating.

  “Evan is up in her room.” Mrs. Early still hasn’t completely forgiven me for being the persistent suitor they couldn’t get rid of. She wanted me to disappear, let Evan date some nice boy from one of the families they knew. But I wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I give her my most charming smile, but she freezes me out. It must be something in Evan’s bloodline that makes such scarily cold-hearted women.

  I start up the stairs and find Evan sitting at her vanity, putting on the last of her makeup, her phone propped up and the speaker on. Her best friend is chattering to her.

  “…nothing to worry about, sweets. He’s going to be in a program, okay? A stone cutting program or whatever. Not to totally buy into the gender stereotype, but, realistically, how many girls could there possibly be in a school like that? And that’s beside the point. He has you. What guy in his right mind would ever pursue any other girl when he has you?” Brenna’s voice is bossy but caring. I love that she’s got Evan’s back.

  I come up behind Evan and kiss her neck. She gets a big blob of black eye-makeup on her cheek. “Winch!” she squeals. “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m putting on mascara. I could have poked my eye out!”

  “Stop putting on mascara like such a sexy thing, and I won’t be tempted.” I pull a tissue out the box and try to wipe it off, but she springs back in horror and takes out some little container of round cotton things and goes to work getting the gunk off. “Hey Brenna. I like your advice.”

  “Hey Winch!” Brenna says, and, though I’ve never met her, I can almost picture her bouncing in her chair. “I know, right? Your girlfriend is so smart, but she’s kind of being an idiot about this.”

  “You just keep reminding her she’s got nothing to worry about, okay?” Evan turns to me, the mascara blob gone, and kisses me full on the mouth. I immediately want her, but I can’t have her. Not yet.

  “I will. Have a safe trip, Winch. And good luck with the, uh, stone work!”

  “Thanks, Bren,” I say, not able to keep down a sheepish smile. I’m excited about this. All this. My new life, my new job. I can’t wait.

  Evan grabs the phone and takes it off speaker so she can whisper whatever crazy girl secrets she’s telling her friend. When she hangs up, she immediately straddles my lap and presses against me.

  “Not here,” I say when her hand cups my dick, already completely hard.

  “We can be so quick,” she says as she nibbles my earlobe. “I’ve missed you.”

  I stifle a groan. “If Lee Early caught us even like this, he’d put a bullet through my brains, no question. I can’t even believe you convinced them to let you stay over with me.”

  She leans back, her arms linked around my neck and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy. But I’ve been on good behavior, my community service is all done, and I think they love you. I mean, they’re still pissed as hell at you for dragging your feet. But now that they know you, they love you as much as I do. Well, almost as much.” She grinds on my lap and smiles this wicked smile that just turns me on more.

  “Stop it before I need a cold shower.” I kiss her and move her firmly off me, trying to focus on anything that will make my dick chill out enough so that I can speak to her grandparents without needing to keep something in front of my pants at all times.

  I mentally focus on baseball stats, gather her bags, and we head down to say another round of goodbyes, but these are way less drama-filled, both because the Earlys are more easy-going people and because this is all good for them. Evan will only be gone two days, and then I’ll drive her back. I will stay hundreds of miles away indefinitely. It’s as perfect as they could have hoped for.

  “Why did the only school that offered mason work have to be seven hours away?” Evan grumbles as we buckle into the truck.

  “It’s the best school for the kind of stonework I want to do,” I remind her. “I want to be good at this. I want to start to make a life for us, Evan.”

  “How do you always manage to say exactly the thing that makes me feel better?” She rolls her window down and lets the cool wind whip through the cabin as we start up. “Are you sure you can drive this thing?”

  “Are you insulting my driving skills? I’m practically a professional driver.” I make sure I double check my blind spots after b
ragging to her. I’d been driving a sleek little car for so long, my ability to maneuver something this big is rusty, and I need to give it my full attention.

  By the time we’re an hour or two and a thousand radio station changes in, Evan starts to poke at exactly the thing that’s making me have a minor panic attack every fifteen minutes or so.

  “You look nervous.” She passes me a piece of gum, but I shake my head and hold the steering wheel tight, eyes fixed on a road I’ve never traveled down before.

  “I’ve never really done this kind of stuff. I might suck,” I admit out loud. As soon as I say the words to her, a little bit of the edge wears off.

  She turns in her seat and takes off her sunglasses. “You will be amazing. You’ll be the top apprentice at the school. No one works harder than you do, Winch.”

  A long minute ticks by before I get up the guts to add, “I’ve never lived away from my family.”

  She unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the bench seat, buckling the center lap belt over her curvy hips before she leans her head on my shoulder. “It’s scary.”

  She doesn’t go on or give me some speech about how much better off I’ll be without them or why it’s good that I’m finally doing something on my own. She gets that I just want to feel scared and sad and nervous as fucking hell for a minute.

  Because that’s how I feel, and I can only admit it to her. I’m not used to feeling any of this, not about my own choices and future, anyway.

  “I don’t know what my father will do,” I tell her. “He’s relied on me to run so much of the business. I do so many things around there. I’m afraid Colt will get pulled in. Or he’ll ask Remy, and it will all get screwed up.” I tighten my hands around the steering wheel. She rubs my arm in a, slow, comforting path from my elbow to my wrist, over and over.