Page 50 of Fight For Me

“Thanks.” I give George a final pat on his head and gather my things before practically sprinting down the hall to my room and away from the weird vibes that are swirling around that table.

* * *

Two nights later,our positions are reversed. I’m sitting at the dining table, my work spread out around me, when Wyatt stumbles bleary-eyed from his room at one in the morning, George right on his heels. He stops when he sees me, eyebrow going up. “Looks like you really got that stress handled, huh?”

“Don’t start,” I mutter.

He looks like he wants to say more, but he snaps his mouth closed and goes to the front closet.

“You going somewhere?”

“Taking George out. He decided to wait right until I’d fallen asleep to start scratching at my door.”

He grabs a hoodie from the front closet and pulls it on. I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping out loud. That can’t possibly bethehoodie. There’s no way he still has it.

“You okay?” he asks, studying my face. Apparently, the whole eyes-popping-out-of-my-head thing is difficult to disguise.

“Yup,” I squeak out in a voice three times higher than usual. I clear my throat. “George’s treat bag is in that basket by the door. Be careful in the dark. Bye!”

He’s looking at me like I’m a crazy person, and I don’t blame him. I lower my head to my laptop screen and start typing rapidly, pretending I’m unaware of the fact that he’s still watching me.

“Be right back,” he finally mutters. I don’t release my breath until I hear the door shut behind him.

“Alex Fraser you’re a ridiculous human,” I mutter, burying my head in my hands. I’m half tempted to go wake up Everly. She wouldn’t even be mad at me—as soon as I squealed the wordsthehoodie, she would join me in freaking out.

I can pinpoint the exact moment I became aware of the existence of Wyatt Warner. I had some vague memories of him from when I was a kid, mostly times I would be annoyed when Will couldn’t play because his older brother was home from school for a visit. Sometimes he would be at the farm in Tennessee when we went there for vacation, and he’d play Ghost in the Graveyard with us or take us swimming down at the creek. Mostly I was too busy having fun with Will, River, Rose, and Everly to worry about some boring teenager who spent most of his time shut up in the music room jamming with his dad and uncles.

All of that changed the summer I turned fourteen. Wyatt was performing his first solo concert at Benaroya Hall in Seattle and all of the families had flown up to see him. Seattle was cool—we went to the Space Needle, saw the guys throwing fish around at the market, and went on a ferry ride. The actual performance though? I was bored out of my mind. I had to wear a nice dress, and sit still in the uncomfortable theater seat, and it went onforever. Two whole hours of nothing but piano music. I thought I was going to die.

When it was finally over, we all went back stage to congratulate Wyatt. And that was when it happened.

Everly had just started to talk about boys at the beginning of the summer. She had a huge crush on Gage Burke, who live a few blocks over, and we spent the first two weeks of our school vacation walking by his house in the hopes that she might see him. Or he might see her—I was never really sure what the goal was. Personally, I didn’t see the fuss. I would have much rather spent my time swimming in her parent’s pool with Will and Rose than talking about some stupid boy.

But that was before I found myself back stage after Wyatt Warner’s concert. I’ll never forget the way he looked, smiling sheepishly while his whole family crowded around to congratulate him. He’d taken off the tuxedo jacket he wore on stage and his tie was undone around his neck. His hair was longer back then, pulled back in a short ponytail, but a few strands had come loose around his flushed cheeks.

He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Yes, I was only fourteen. And yes, he was the first guy I had ever noticed, but that didn’t matter. I was absolutely convinced I was madly in love with him. When it was my parents turn to congratulate him, he’d hugged them both before tousling my little brother’s hair. I held my breath as I stood there, wondering if he’d notice me, if he would say anything. When he leaned down and give me a brief, one-armed hug, I thought I was going todie.

Later that night, we all went out to a casual restaurant by the theater for dessert. Wyatt had changed before meeting us, and when he walked in wearing ripped jeans and an old Mariners hoodie, I thought he looked even better than he had in his tux. The whole time we were in that restaurant, River kept asking me what was wrong because I wasn’t talking. I was too busy staring at my very first crush. I was so distracted, in fact, that I completely missed my mouth when I went to take a sip of my soda. I spilled Sprite all over my cardigan. Right in front of Wyatt. I was mortified.

But then the best thing happened. He saw me shivering as I pulled off the sodden garment and smiled. “Here you go,” he said, like it was nothing at all, and handed me the hoodie off the back of his chair. He’d immediately turned away, deep in conversation with Daltrey about one of the pieces he’d played, but it was still the best moment of my life up until that point. He must have had the hoodie for a while, because it was kind of worn, but it smelled like him and it was soft.

Back in the hotel, I confessed to Everly what had happened. “I think I’m in love,” I said dreamily.

She had been horrified. “You can’t like Wyatt! He’s my cousin!”

“So? He isn’t my cousin.”

As I got older, I saw the night for what it was. I’d been a silly little girl with a crush. I could laugh about it, eventually. I moved on and had plenty of boyfriends as I got older. But the crush never really went away. And when Wyatt came home for his brother’s birthday during my sophomore year of college, I thought all my years of devotion to the memory of him might pay off. His eyes didn’t slide right past me, the way they always had when I was a kid. He actually seemed toseeme.

But it turned out that I wasn’t really any less silly or delusional at twenty than I’d been at fourteen. I built it up in my head just the same way, sure that we had a connection, sure that he felt it too. So stupid.

The front door opens and I straighten up. I should have used the time while he was gone to gather my things and go to bed, not sit here and moon over childhood crushes. But somehow, I can’t seem to make myself care too much when he comes over and joins me at the table.

“You’re not going back to bed?”

He shrugs. “I’m awake now. May as well hang out for a bit.” He reaches for the pile of yarn he must have left on the table earlier. “Since you’re here, maybe you could look at this? I think I’m still getting it wrong.”

“Sure.” He hands me the needles, our fingers brushing, and I have to suppress a shiver. Now that he’s sitting here, I can clearly see that itisthe same hoodie from all those years ago. It’s much more worn now than it had been, with several little holes along the neckline, but it still looks soft and warm.