Chapter 14

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Harry's POV

    Laying in my bed with a bag of frozen peas on my face has never felt more comfortable. I'm waiting on Memphis to give me the go ahead to leave, but the text hasn't come through yet. I've peeked out of my window in the direction of her house a couple times, and I haven't seen much. Lights are still on though, so I know someone is still up.

     The repercussions of the day are starting to catch up to me, and every time my eyelids blink it gets even harder to force them back up. The need to sleep is heavy, but my curiosity is outweighing all of that. No way am I gonna catch up on sleep instead of getting some answers. Answers that I feel like I've been waiting forever for.

     My dad has been asleep for the past two hours already. When he saw my face after he walked in the door, he kinda stood there shocked at first. Then he said something that I was expecting.

      "Well, what did the other guy look like?" He asked, as he took of his belt with all his work stuff on it, and then bent down and starting untying his shoes and removing them too.

     I bark out a laugh. "Worse than me." I offer, which is true. After I jumped in and helped Knox, it didn't take too long for the guys to see that even with them having one more guy than us they weren't going to win. I've never seen anyone fight the way Knox was though.

    It was like his fists were a part of his body, every swing and movement he made was precise. And he definitely knew how to hit a guy hard enough that he was stumbling if he ever got back up. I've been in a couple fights before, and I'm not too proud to admit that I've lost a couple to some older guys who knew what they were doing better than I did.

    But Knox was fucking lethal. I think the only reason he couldn't take all three of them was because he was so worried about the bloodied pulp his brother was laying in on the ground at his feet. Being distracted during a fight is probably the worst thing that can happen to you.

     My dad couldn't let that just be the end of the conversation though, of course. "Harry, I need to know if you being here with me was a bad decision."

     "What do you mean?" I ask, sitting down in the kitchen chair across from his.

     "Exactly what I said. You've been here two weeks, and already I've had to drive you home from a party in my cop car, and then I come home today and you've got some gashes on your face and a busted up nose."

    "Isn't that normal teenage shit?"

    It's his turn to laugh a little, surprised by my response. "Yeah, yeah I guess it is. But it just doesn't make much sense for you to move here with me and to start getting into trouble when you never did before when you lived with your mom."

    I roll my eyes. "Dad, I got into plenty of fights when I lived in Boston, and I've been drinking at parties since I was like fifteen. I just never got caught, and if mom did catch me, I'm assuming she just didn't tell you."

    He grunted in acknowledgement. "Well, that's not exactly what I wanted to hear."

    "Why not?"

    "Because I would have thought your mom would let me know something like that."

    I shrugged. "Wasn't a big deal, like I said, kinda normal teenage shit. Mom also said you would probably be uptight about that kind of stuff, even though you did worse things when you guys were in school."

    He grunts again before standing up and going to the refrigerator. "Huh, did she now?" He asks, and then pulls out a beer bottle and takes a deep swig. "Shes not lying, but would have been nice for her not to tell you that."

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