Page 93 of Fight For Me

I look up to see River watching me. Just like that, I know that he knows. I have no idea how. Everly and Fox seem completely clueless and they were living with us. But somehow, River has figured it out. And from the sympathy in his eyes when he looks at me, I don’t get the feeling he believes this will end well.

“Is there more?” he asks.

I don’t bother pretending like I don’t know what he means. “Yes. I…I thought we were careful. I don’t see how they can have any footage of anything really bad but…” I close my eyes. “I have no idea.”

He takes a deep breath and reaches out to squeeze my arm. “Okay. Let’s just…let’s just get through this episode. It’s just about over, so they probably won’t show anything more scandalous tonight. Tomorrow you can talk to your dad, get the family’s lawyers involved. I’m sure they’ll be able to get the producer to back off.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. Maybe he doesn’t understand as much as I thought he did.

“Wyatt doesn’t care that it’s on TV,” I say, rubbing at my arms, unable to keep the chill from my skin. “He doesn’t care about strangers knowing. He cares about the family finding out.”

River looks confused. “Why?”

Before I can answer, Bodhi yells out from the living room. “Show’s back on!”

“Let’s get this over with,” River says soothingly. “You can regroup when it’s over.”

I follow him out to the living room. I barely catch a glimpse of the scene on the TV—the beachside restaurant and bar in Miami—before movement behind the couch catches my attention. Wyatt has returned from Will’s room. As soon as I see him, I know that things are about to get much worse.

He’s staring at the phone in his hand, face a little pale. I’m across the space to his side without thinking about it. “What? What’s wrong?”

I expect him to tell me someone’s hurt, that there’s been an accident of some kind. Instead, he turns his shocked eyes to me. “That was…that was George’s owner.”

I stare at him, the word not making sense. “His owner?”

“He’s been looking for his dog for months. Was sure he would never see him again.” Wyatt takes a deep breath, expression pained. “Then he was over in our neighborhood today visiting a friend and saw a flyer.”

It finally sinks in. George’s owner—his real owner—is coming back to claim him. Which means—

A sharp pain pierces my chest. “We’re going to lose George?”

Wyatt reaches for me, but a sharp “what’s going on?” from the living room behind us has us both turning. I expect someone to ask us about the phone call, about George, but every person in the room is still focused on the show. Wyatt and I are in the back of the living room, by the hallway to the bedrooms, but we can still see the TV from here.

The TV that’s showing Wyatt and I sneaking away from the restaurant patio. Then follows us as we walk down the beach arm-in-arm. We sit down in the sand on Wyatt’s jacket and I can remember exactly what the soft wool felt like under my hands. We’re close to each other, way too close.

And then we’re kissing. And damn does this camera ever have great zoom, because I can see everything. We’re slow and gentle at first, and then pressing together like our life depends on it. Wyatt pulls me close, his hands all over my back, my fingers in his hair. We pull back enough to press our foreheads together. We aren’t mic’d, thank God, so you can’t hear what we’re saying, but you can see it when Wyatt starts pressing gentle kisses across my face.

I want to throw up. What I’m seeing on the screen is the best thing that ever happened to me. The most special, precious moment. And someone was there, watching us without me even knowing. Capturing that moment, stealing it, so they could use it for television ratings.

I never should have done this show. I should have listened to our parents. Because this? This makes me feel sick. Not that people know about me and Wyatt—even though there’s a small part of my brain vaguely aware that this is going to cause big problems—but because Scott was able to take this amazing moment and tarnish it. I don’t want the world seeing this. The moment should be ours.

I barely register when I see Wyatt pulling me up from the sand, both of us laughing. We hold hands while we run off into the dark night together. And then the screen goes black.

The phone in Wyatt’s hand starts ringing again, but this time, I know it isn’t about the dog.

Wyatt

Ialways expected I would feel dread if our secret ever got out. What I didn’t expect to feel is so much anger. I don’t watch the television screen while our private moments are broadcast to the world. Instead, I watch Alex, and the look of hurt on her face has rage coursing through me.

I want to beat the shit out of Scott. I want to punish every person who’s sitting in front of a TV right now, witness to Alex’s vulnerability when that should have been for my eyes only. I want to grab her and shield her from this invasion, escape back to Santa Barbara maybe, and try to recreate that safe little bubble we’d been in only a few weeks ago.

“What the fuck was that?”

My gaze finally snaps from Alex to the group in the living room. Everyone is staring at us, expressions either shocked or confused. My brother has climbed to his feet and his eyes are locked on mine. I study him, trying to read the emotion storming in the dark blue irises that are so like our dad’s.

“Whatwasthat?” he asks again, pointing at the TV.

“Are you guys together?” Rose asks, bewildered, like the idea of me with Alex is the most nonsensical thing she can imagine.