Fighter

by Tijan

I loved all nine of my brothers, but I was not one of them. For one thing, I’m a girl. My real name is Delia Holden. Our mom decided to give me the family name, but that’s the most feminine thing about me. Delia had been shortened to Dele early on, and somehow that switched to Dale when I was in junior high. Which suited me fine. At that time, I liked fitting in with my brothers. I was scrawny enough to wear baggy shirts, baseball hats, and jeans with sneakers. People thought I was a boy, and I was athletic enough to play sports with most of the guys. That ended around eighth grade. My boobs came in, and my hips went out. Even though I was still thin, there was no way to hide my female lioness anymore.

Our mom died from cancer when I was little, and our dad died when I was in high school.

In the end, both of us wore bulletproof vests and sunglasses. As Haley pushed my wheelchair up to the handicapped entrance, my elbow rested on my lap, and my hand held my stun gun. Yes. We were badass. Then Haley tripped, and my wheelchair bumped into the rail, hitting my hand, and I dropped the stun gun in my lap. I froze, pure terror going through me, but it didn’t go off. Haley stifled a scream as I turned and smacked her.

He tossed something in my lap, and I looked down to see a small box wrapped in newspaper with a red ribbon around it. “What’s this?” He moved to sit in the other leather chair. “Something I left here last summer.” Last summer? “You mean…” The night I ended things with him. That night? He burst into an abrupt laugh. “Yep. That night. It was an early birthday present, but everything went to shit, and I forgot it. But now, with all you’re doing to help me and in the Christmas spirit…” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, but looked out toward the lake. “Merry Christmas, Doily.” Shock rendered me speechless for a moment. He’d remembered my birthday. Two months ahead, too. “I’m sorry, Jax.” He waved me off. “Trust me, it’s fine. I was an ass most of the time, and I was being one that night too. When you tossed me, that might’ve been the best thing that could’ve happened. Losing you was a wake-up call. You ripped my heart out, but thank you for that. I mean it.” Oh god. I had no idea what to say. Then I felt tears threatening to spill, and I shook my head. That’d be more mortifying than anything else. I fanned myself, thinking funny thoughts so I wouldn’t cry. Dylan sacking Haley. Dylan getting sacked in the junk. That helped a little. When I knew the tears had stalled, I started. “Jax, that night—” He held up a hand. “You were right. I was drunk, getting into fights all the time. And that night, I had no right to do what I did.” Oh boy. This conversation had been avoided for a reas...