Fighting for Us - Bella Emy Page 0,45

the couches.

“You finally finished shoving pie down your throat?” I ask. Max is known for eating a few pieces of pie every year on Christmas Eve. It’s like his own personal holiday tradition.

“Hey, Mom makes the best pies around. You can’t say no when she brings them out,” he says.

“That’s true.” My mother does make the best apple, blueberry, chocolate mousse, and key lime pies in the world.

“She fell asleep?” he asks, pointing at Gianna.

I nod, picking her up and rising to my feet. “I’m about to put her to bed.”

Marianna finally looks toward us, her eyes obviously red. “I think I’m going to bed too. Night, fellas.” She gets to her feet and darts out of the room before either of us have a chance to answer.

“Damn, I can’t take it anymore,” Max says.

I adjust Gianna in my arms. “Can’t take what anymore?”

He scoffs. “She hasn’t said anything to me, but I’m not blind. I know what’s going on, and I personally have an ill taste for Jordan. He’s messing with the wrong family.”

Of course he knows. My sister tries her hardest to not worry the family, but being that we are so closely knit, there’s no way any of us wouldn’t notice when something like this is going on. I’m pretty sure my parents know too.

“Man, she promised me not to say anything, but I had a horrible feeling about it.”

He shrugs. “I just want to know why she hasn’t told me, like does she think I’m not trustworthy enough or what?”

I chuckle. “No one tells you anything because you’re quick to snap… a family trait, I guess. But when you snap, it’s always trouble. Plus, you’re quick to tell Mom and Dad everything.”

“Man, that was so long ago! And not for nothing, but you’re the one with the temper, Mr. UFC Heavyweight Champion.” He laughs.

I laugh along with him. “Well, bro. I have something to tell you too, but it’s going to have to wait. I’ve got to get this little one into bed. Have a good night.” I walk toward the door with Gianna in my arms.

“Wait! What’s up? Tell me now,” he says.

I spin around to face him with a smirk. “I’ll tell you soon. Night-night, li’l bro.”

He grimaces playfully. “Night, Enz.” Moments later, he calls out to me again. “Hey, Enz?”

“Yeah?”

He shrugs. “Guess I’m playing Santa Max again,” he says, pointing at the milk and cookies set on the coffee table. The colorful, sparkling lights of the Christmas tree reflect off the glass.

I chuckle. “Yup. Make sure you finish them all and place the gifts under the tree and in the stockings. She’ll be up by five tomorrow morning, so get to it.”

Max rubs his belly. “I’m so going to get a stomachache.”

“Better you than me, li’l bro,” I say jokingly.

“Hey, Enz?”

“Yeah?”

He puts up his middle finger. “Merry Christmas.”

I laugh. “Merry Christmas, fucker.”

I snap my eyes open to the sunlight coming in through the small cracks in the blinds. The New York Yankees posters and decals still line the walls. I find it hilarious how my mom has yet to change my room around, even though I’ve been out of the house for years. She’s got all my old trophies and books sitting on the shelves. My gaming chair is set off to the side in front of the television set from my teenage years. I don’t think I’ve played a video game since I left home.

I’m surprised Gianna is not up yet and running full speed toward me, begging me to open all the gifts from Santa. I look toward my left at the nightstand and find my cell phone. I pick it up; it’s just after six in the morning.

Is it too early to text someone and wish them Merry Christmas? Because I have this itching sensation to text Carissa already.

I freaking miss talking to her.

It’s Christmas. She’s probably up with her family opening gifts, isn’t she?

I take a shot and compose a text to her. Hopefully she’s not still asleep and won’t curse me out for waking her up.

Me: Merry Christmas, beautiful.

I wallow in self-pity after five minutes go by and she still hasn’t responded. She’s totally going to curse me out when she gets this.

Another ten minutes go by, and finally, she responds back.

Carissa: Merry Christmas, sexy ;)

A smile forms across my face. She thinks I’m sexy. I think she’s sexy as fuck. Do I dare ask her for a picture right now? Nothing scandalous, of course. I just want