“It’s killing you, isn’t it?” Abby plops onto a stool and I stand. How the hell does she know about me and Haley? She swivels to survey the tables. “Wondering which one it is.”
Ah, the brother. “Is he here?”
She pops peanuts into her mouth. “Nope.”
“Would you tell me if he was?”
“Uh-uh.”
I lean my back against the bar and rest my elbows on it. “You could be lying to me about my mom coming here to meet her brother.”
“I could. But I’m not.” She glances around. “Where’s Denny?”
Abby’s completely deadpan. There are two sides to the chick: full of shit and lethal. Either way, she’s hard-core. “He’s in the back with a delivery truck.”
“Did he leave me food?”
I reach behind the bar and hand her a foam container. Her eyes light up. “Spaghetti!” Abby twirls the noodles onto a plastic fork, then motions toward the swinging door. “You actually are handy. Impressive.”
I push the door again, awed by the sense of pride. “My dad will be disappointed I didn’t fuck something up.”
She humph-chuckles at my statement. “Your father is rather bitchy. By the way, Rachel might come home soon.”
Abby gains my full attention and my hands sweat. I want Rachel home. She needs to be home, but... “Her legs?”
“She’ll move around again, but with or without assistance, they don’t know.”
I rub at the muscles of my neck, somewhat relieved, somewhat devastated. Rachel should be maneuvering around the hood of her car, not constrained. When she’s home I’ll have no choice but to face her and I’ve got to find a way to make this up to her.
I watch as a new guy walks in. He has blond hair, like my mom. Blue eyes, too, but he’s rough as hell. “That one?” I ask.
“Not telling,” she mumbles through the food in her mouth.
“You didn’t even look.”
“Because I wouldn’t even answer.” She drops her voice to try to mimic me.
“Why would Mom lie? She told us she was an only child and that her parents died.”
“You can’t get it out of your mind, can you?”
I shake my head.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know more. It’s the stuff of nightmares. It even gives me cold chills if I think about it at three a.m.”
A sickening darkness curls in my gut. “It’s my mom, Abby.”
“And if she wanted you to know, she would have dropped the bomb during one of your swanky dinners.” Abby tears off a piece of a roll and shoves it in her mouth. Is Rachel aware how often Abby goes without food?
“Don’t do it,” she says to the noodles. “You’re in my world because Rachel loves you and I love her. Just ’cause Daddy took you back, it doesn’t give you the right.”
“The right to what?”
She peeks at me from the corner of her eye. “Feel sorry for me.”
The guilt that I pitied her slices through me. “Then I’ll go back to hating you.”
“Good. Did you do it?” she asks. “Did you give Matt what he wanted?”
“Is it a medical condition that causes you to talk in riddles?”
Abby actually smiles. “Fine. Matt wants the fight next month to be between you and him, not you and Conner, but he doesn’t want to be the one to cause it because he’s trying to stay on Haley’s good side.”
“You’re making shit up now.” Because there is no way she can know all this.
“I have super hearing.” She pokes me in the head with one finger. “I even have the ability to hear your thoughts. You’re thinking about Haley and sex.”
I wasn’t, but now I am. Jesus, Haley can kiss and her skin is so damn smooth... I sigh. And Haley may no longer be mine. “You’re full of shit.”
“Maybe, but I do sleep with one of the guys from Black Fire and he’s a talker.”
Damn. That was blunt. “Then aren’t you betraying your guy by spilling to me?”
She snorts. “I said I sleep with him, not married to him. What I do for a living—it’s better to be a free agent. If he wants to get all sentimental afterwards and talk, that’s his problem.”
I assess Abby. “You don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of you.”
“Nope.” She sucks up a noodle and it smacks her on the lips. “I take that back. I care what Rachel thinks. She’s the only person besides Isaiah to ever like me.”
The way she emphasizes the me causes me to look beyond the dark hair, hoodie and lethal. “You’re doing it again,” she says.
I hold up my hands. “I’m back on the page—you’re a heartless bitch.”
“That’s better. Here’s the info dump. Matt wants to fight you because he hates you. He figures if he can kick your ass, Haley will dump you because you’re weak or you’ll bail on her because you’ll hate that she thinks you’re weak.”
A slurp of spaghetti. “But he wants you to provoke him into taking the fight, so Haley will be all like, ‘No, West, no! Stop being mean to Matt. He’s harmless in that psychopath way.’ If he provokes you, then he’s the mean guy and he’s campaigning as Mr. Nice Guy. Fallen for it?”
“No.” But my intestines twist at how close I was to taking a swing at Matt. I hate being played. “So what if Matt and I go at it instead of me and Conner? I’d rather go against that bastard.”
“Good, because you probably will. I’m ready for the spoiler— If it does come down to you and Matt in the cage, if he hands your ass to you, will Matt be right? Can you stand to look the girl you care for in the eye knowing that in public her ex proved he’s stronger than you?”
Chapter 53
Haley
My mouth dries out and a weird pressure compresses my throat, almost as if a ghost cups my neck and squeezes. Sitting on the mats next to the ring, I slowly wrap my hands. Each layer a confirmation of a death sentence. It’s strange how I used to love this ritual and how I loved being in the ring. Stepping under the rope, I’d leave behind who I was in my everyday life, and I’d emerge on the other side with a clear mind—every thought and movement calm and precise.
With one hit, Matt stole my joy and made me terrified of the few things in life I enjoyed.
There’s a shift in the gym—a jovial mood among everyone else. The guys I’ve known a good portion of my life are eager to see my return to the ring and the new guys that have heard of me from rumors or have possibly seen one of my fights in person or on YouTube seem to be excited, too. Not too long ago, I held a national title. Now I’m a fraud.
Jax crouches in front of me, swiping my boxing gloves off the floor. “Me or Kaden?”
I lift my eyebrows, confused as to what he’s asking.
“Who do you want to spar with? Me or Kaden?”
He undoes the Velcro and holds out the hole for me to sink my hand into. I remain silent, too stunned by the offer. I love him and my brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
I shove my hand in and Jax secures the glove. “You’ve avoided sparring, so I’m guessing you’ve got a mental block. We’ll go easy. A few hit series, a couple of low kicks for shits and giggles. Nothing fancy.”
I slip on my headgear, then let Jax help me with the other glove. “That’s not what John had in mind. He wants me to spar.”
“You’re wrong. He wants you back.”
Jax stands and I place a glove on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For Matt.” For betraying my family. “For everything.”
Jax glances over his shoulder and I’m startled to see Kaden on the other side of the ropes. He nods and Jax playfully mocks a two-one combo in his direction. “Water under the bridge, but this doesn’t mean we’re good with West. If he’s with you, he’s got to earn our respect.”
I go to rip off the gloves. If they aren’t going to help me train West, then I’m not sparring. Jax plants his hand over the Velcro. “You go into the ring—we help you. The kid is bad news, but at least now we’ll be there to have your back.”
“You’ve always had my back,” I say with a grin to lighten the mood.
He shakes his head. “It’s hard to help someone when they’re damned insistent on doing all their own fighting.”
Jax offers a hand off the floor and I accept. “West’s a good guy and I care about him.” Possibly more than care.
“He’s an unknown and he’s got a temper. Remember, I saw him lose it last night.”
My heart plunges because Jax is right. West permits his emotions to rule him and that will be a problem in the cage.
John slams the door to his office. “If I wanted an audience, I would have sold tickets. Back to work!”
The smack of punches on the bags and the tap of fighters knocking out combinations against each other fill the gym, but it doesn’t take much to notice it’s halfhearted.
John grabs a pair of punch mitts, bends under the ropes and enters the ring.
“I thought I was sparring.” I motion toward the mitts on his hands.
“You will, but I told you we’re starting slow.”