It's been a couple of weeks since Braedon has been released from the hospital and Carson still hasn't backed down with the shady comments and petty jabs.

Just yesterday, we had Braedon over for dinner and he simply cleared his throat. Carson glared at him and said, "Oh yeah? Well." And then he proceeded to clear his throat louder than Braedon had.

It was a rocky start, but Braedon had come around the house more often and spent more time with us. I knew we would be okay, because he was actually trying, and that meant something to me.

It was hard at times, remembering what he did. But then I reminded myself that he shot someone to help the boy that I loved, he killed someone. I knew that much had taken a mental toll on him, I noticed him when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

I knew what he did was wrong and that maybe I should have hated him for it, but then he knew that too. I was just grateful he had the mind to do the right thing in the end. And also, you know, the 25k may have had added some special influence to play nice with him.

Since Lachlan was no longer in the picture, Braedon had decided to temporarily take over management. The plan was to let Tate take over when he graduated high school. He was currently acting as assistant manager since he knew the place and all the fighters well.

Tristan was officially done with underground fighting, and these days it was harder and harder to call him Grumpy, since this was no longer the case.

Aunt Sofie had had reached out to me, officially offering me a position in her bakery. She said it was okay that I only worked the weekend mornings until summer started, and I couldn't have been happier to accept.

I had finally filled Leah and Maylan in on everything that happened when I got the chance. They had been shocked, and confused, and upset, and gasped out loud throughout my entire explanation.

And then when I told them that Tristan and I were official, they screamed in excitement so loud that I had to cover my ears.

Tristan sat with us each day at lunch when we were all at school together again. I drew him more ridiculous doodles and he stored every one of them inside his picture book.

Most days Tate would meet us after school since his new schedule had him done a whole period early. It was so much fun when we could all hang out together, all six of us. Maylan had just recently decided that she was ready for a relationship and had finally accepted Carson's offer.

Of course, Tristan and I enjoyed our time alone together, but double dates, wait no I mean triple dates, were a lot of fun too.

We were all at my house one day when dad was at work and Braedon came over to join us.

He was fully recovered now. Sometimes he still felt a little sore but that didn't stop him from asking Tristan for a rematch that night.

"Come one, you and me, with gloves, and whoever calls uncle first loses." He said.

"Yeah man, do it. I'd love to see Braedon get knocked on his ass." That was Carson's input. Braedon just shoved him off his chair and he landed on his own ass.

"First to call uncle." Tristan shrugged his shoulders in agreement.

We all helped clear the living room of the furniture. I went upstairs with Maylan and we grabbed some soft blankets to put all around the floor.

Tate and Braedon went out to get some boxing gloves from his trunk and came back inside with two pairs.

They set their gloves on their hands and put themselves into position.

I had gotten used to watching these fights start. It made me a whole lot more comfortable knowing this fight wouldn't end in cracked ribs or broken limbs. Or at least I hoped they would call uncle before then.

They had circled each other in the beginning, one waiting for the other to make the first move. It had been Braedon to throw the first punch and Tristan was able to dodge it easily. He then threw a punch of his own and it connected with a smack to Braedon's face.

It was a constant recycling of punches thrown and dodged, thrown and connected. Leah and Maylan were watching skilled fighters do their thing for the first time and they seemed completely mesmerized.

I think I would have been as impressed my first time too, if it hadn't gotten me so stressed out. So it was nice for once, to actually watch one these without having to worry about one of them dying.

Braedon currently had the upper hand and was getting a good number of connected punches. Carson was the loudest rooter of us all, telling Tristan to cut the crap and put him down already.

Tate called out, "come on, do your thing Tristan!"

And so when Braedon threw his fist out in another punch, Tristan grabbed his arm (as best he could with a boxing glove) and threw it to behind him and to the side. He flipped himself around immediately and kicked Braedon in the back of the knee, causing him to knee slam into the floor. Then, Tristan put his arm around him in a head lock.

Braedon tried to struggle out of his grip, but he was stuck. His face began to turn red from lack of oxygen, but he still fought.

And then after a moment he tapped Tristan in the arm a couple of times and choked out, "uncle."

"HELL YEAH BABY THAT'S WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!" Carson shout out in victory and then turned to Tate before they threw themselves in the air with a chest bump.

Braedon was still on the floor when Tristan came over to him, removed his boxing glove, and held a hand out to him.

He just looked at it for a moment before he gave him and impressed smile and threw off his own glove to take his hand.

"You're a hell of a fighter Presley." He said as Tristan helped him on his feet.

I coughed out "parsley," and Tristan gave me a side eye before turning his attention back to Braedon.

"I know." And the cocky bastard made me smile.

Braedon left soon afterwards, and Carson followed him out to his car. They had a conversation that took a little while. It must have gone okay though, since they ended it with that bro hug that guys always do, and Braedon smacked him in the back a couple of times for good measure.

The others were all joking and messing around when Carson came back inside and suggested we go get milk shakes. And nothing. Sounded. Better.

And that's how I got here now, in the car with the windows rolled down in the chilly air, with Tristan's jacket wrapped around my shoulders. The stereo was playing low tunes as he told me a story of him and his aunt and I was care free and laughing and happy.

Because I was with Tristan Parsley- I mean Presley, and he was my best friend again, and we could joke around like we did when we were stupid kids in the fifth grade, and the only thing left to worry about was the ridiculous masterpiece I would doodle for him next.