Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book), Reinhardt, Liz [best free ebook reader for pc .TXT] 📗

down my family and what's sure to be their ultimate shunning and refusal to hear me out or let me go.

But Evan looks so hopeful, I trick myself into thinking, for a minute, that it all might work out. And then she says the one thing that really matters.

"No matter what, I'm here for you."

So I get ready to let go and free-fall in the scariest jump of my life. But she's with me. So I swallow my fear and do it.

Evan 15

This is only the second time I've even been to the Youngblood house, but there's this feeling of foreboding I can't shake. Like maybe this is the last time. I know, deep inside me, that whatever goes down tonight, things are about to change in a huge way. My palms are slicked with sweat, and I feel a dizzy, light-headed rush in my head when I look at Winch. I can tell he's nervous, too, and I get why. His family is huge and beyond intimidating.

But I'm here for him. And I'm going to fight for him. If he falls, I'll be at his side to pick him up. It may be the first time anyone's ever bothered to do that for him. I kiss him before we go in, and he pulls me close, deepening the kiss until we're creeping into the kind of territory it won't be easy to rebound from without some serious backseat action.

"Winch. Are you nervous?" I ask, pulling away, my lips sore and desperate for more of what they can't have.

Well, can't have right now.

He shakes his head, but doesn't say anything to me. We get out of the car and make our way to the house, taking the steps one at an excruciatingly slow time. When we get inside, his family is seated around the huge, food-laden dinner table. There's no one besides his siblings and parents, which I know is pretty unusual since, according to Winch's stories, the dinner table at their house is usually a meeting place for just about everyone in their entire extended family. It's part of what's made it easy for him to slip away on mandatory family dinner nights to come and see me.

Everyone looks up when we walk in. Mrs. Youngblood pulls her napkin off her lap and places it on the table when she stands.

"Winchester, you should have called before you brought your friend over. I'm not prepared to entertain tonight."

Her eyes, the same navy blue as Winch's, snap and crackle with a savagery that shocks me. Every single set of eyes looks at the colossal assortment of food spread on the table in front of them, then every set of eyes focuses on his or her respective plate.

It's just a tiny thing. Hardly worth noticing. I've been snubbed by nastier people in ruder ways. But there's something about this whole scenario, this entire put-down that's being disguised by a huge lie as plain as the banquet on their damn table, and I've had it.

"You are full of shit," I announce.

Winch, who I felt tense and sensed was about to speak up on my behalf is shocked. The eyes of every member of his family swing up at me, and all six mouths drop open. If I turned around, I bet I would see Winch's mouth hanging open, too, his eyes popped unnaturally out of their sockets.

I should shut up. I should shut up and let Winch handle this and let the chips fall where they may and all that.

But I'm so sick of it all. So sick of putting a sock in it, so sick of watching this family's lies mutate and infect Winch and my chances with him. I've tried to be a lady. I've tried to keep my mouth shut and not judge and play the cool card, but it's so not me. I'm not any of that. Whatever happens today, it's going to get messy. Gloves off, no holds barred messy. I might as well jump in the mud pit and get my slinging in.

"Excuse me, miss?" Winchester's father half stands, but his wife puts a hand out on his arm. He shakes it off and points a finger past me at Winch. "This is the kind of foul-mouthed company you keep when you're running out on your own family? Your mother and I raised you to have more respect than that."

I snort before Winch can get a word in edgewise. "More respect? Really? You're going to talk to Winchester about respect? Respect for what? The law? The truth? Each other? Because I've never seen a damn thing but lies and disrespect as far as this family is concerned."

Mr. Youngblood's face is a shade of scarlet I didn't imagine human skin was capable of turning. But it turns. If steam blew out of his ears and fire came out of his eyeballs, I wouldn't be at all surprised.

"You have a lot of nerve, coming into my house and speaking to my family this way. Winchester, show your guest out. Now."

His father has both hands on the table and he's breathing like his lungs are a set of giant bellows.

"No."

The word, clear and steady from Winch's mouth, brings a gasp from every person at the table.

"Excuse me? I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that. You take that girl back where she came from, and your mother will be waiting on your apology when you get back."

Mr. Youngblood's face has gone to granite, and his eyes narrow to slits.

Mrs. Youngblood has her cloth napkin pressed to her mouth. Benelli is wide-eyed and white-knuckled. Ithaca's red-rimmed, cried-out eyes look bright with surprised glee. Colt is gripping the edge of the table and shifts his mouth back and forth nervously. Remy leans woozily in his chair, either completely drunk or entirely uninterested in what's going on. Or, most likely, a little bit of both.

"I said no." Winchester's voice is clearer, then he half-chuckles, and it's a sound that isn't remotely humorous.