Fighting for Forever (Fighting, #6)

My muscles are tense as I approach, uneasy about being the odd man out to this welcoming home.

Trix grabs my hand, her sunglasses up on her head, wide grin across her face, and if I weren’t so concerned about honoring her father’s wishes, I’d plant a mind-scrambling kiss against those lips.

“Dad, this is Mason, the guy I told you about.”

I reach out my hand to the older man. “Mr. Langley, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Please, call me Jerome.” He reaches forward, exposing a heavily tattooed forearm, and grips my hand in a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I wish I could say I’ve heard so much about you, but I’ve only heard of you over the last couple days.”

“Sir, your daughter talks plenty of you, so I feel I’ve known you for a while now.”

His gaze moves between Trix and me. “Thank you for making sure she got home safely. I would’ve been happy to pick her up.”

“No need. We’re passing through to Santa Cruz anyway. I’m happy to do it.”

“Oh, this must be Mason.” The woman I assumed was Trix’s mother approaches, a warm and welcoming grin on her face. She wraps me in a hug. “I’m Aggie. It’s so nice to meet you. Will you be coming to the party on Sunday?”

“Yes, I’d planned on it. Thank you for the invite.”

“Whoa, Bee-ee-ah. He’s hu-u-mong-u-us!” A tiny little girl whose hair, eyes, and skin all seem to be the exact same shade of bronze, tugs Trix’s hand.

“Leah, honey,” Aggie whispers.

“You play football?” The tallest of the kids with thick black hair, light skin, and almond-shaped eyes joins the conversation.

“I did in high school, but not anymore.”

“Mason fights for the UFL.” Pride shines in her eyes as she looks up at her little brother. “Mason, this is my brother Isaac.” Trix looks around and continues. “My other brothers, Josiah, Zane, and Aaron.” She scoops up the squealing little girl and props her on a hip. “This little rug rat is Leah.” She rubs the head of a tiny Asian girl who is clinging to Trix’s leg, looking up at her big sister. “And finally, this is Zoe.” Her bright eyes flash back to me. “And, everyone, this is Mason.”

The little ones wave shyly, and the older ones stand back, studying me with speculative glances.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” The kids explode in a flurry of chatter, and Trix’s face lights with love for her siblings. I run my knuckles down her upper arm to get her attention. “I better take off.”

“Oh, yeah.” Her smile falls and she nods. “Guess so.”

I say good-bye to her family and move back to the car with Trix. With the trunk of the car open, no one can see us, and I lean in to place a small kiss to her forehead. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I hate this.” Her eyebrows are pinched together. “We’ve spend the last three days together, and saying good-bye to you just feels wrong.”

I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “We have all day tomorrow at the beach. I can’t wait to see you in your bikini—”

“Dad wants me to help you with your bags.” Isaac’s there with his arms crossed at his chest.

Trix rolls her eyes and takes a step back to create distance between us.

“Sounds good, man.” I pull her bright pink suitcase from the trunk and set it down for Isaac. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye.” She gives me a small, sad wave and heads toward the house with her brother, who I hear say, “What’s going on tomorrow?” a few seconds before he shouts, “Awesome!”

My chest is heavy when I watch the door close behind Trix and fold back into Drake’s car.

“Holy shit, bro. You’re buyin’ the cow too?”

This time I unleash all my frustration and knock the asshole in the chest. He doubles over the steering wheel, gasping.

“That’s your final warning.”

“Jeez, you didn’t have to knock the wind outta me, dick.”

“Talk about my woman again, and I’ll knock the fuckin’ life out of you.”

Not that I blame him for being surprised. As soon as the words come from my lips, I realize I’m telling the God’s honest truth.





Nineteen





Trix

The sun is dipping behind the Santa Cruz Mountains by the time we get the kitchen cleaned up after supper. Mom went all out for my homecoming, making a slow-cooked roast with all the trimmings. I can’t imagine how much the meal cost them, and they dished it out, helping after helping to all of us kids with leftovers to spare.

I shove a few more plastic containers of our dinner into the fridge and move to the back porch where my mom and dad are lounging on a swing. My mom’s eyes find mine and she grins. Even through her smile, I can tell she’s worn out. “You didn’t have to do that, Bea.” She scoots to put a spot between her and my dad.

I plop down between them, the three of us now crammed into the loveseat-sized swing. “I know, but you work too hard, Mama.”

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