Trust Me(20)

Chapter Seven




Matty



Please pick up the phone.

Kayla’s latest text blinked up from my phone on the bench beside me and I stuffed it into my pocket. They were coming fast and furious now, along with the phone calls. I probably should’ve turned the thing off, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

But I couldn’t bring myself to answer either.

After a grueling three hours lifting and pounding the bags, even my brothers had gotten sick of my miserable mug and had gone out for drinks with Olivia. Now it was just me, alone in my gym, angry as a wounded bear and wallowing in misery. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I knew Mickey had kids, I’d even seen pictures of them on his desk. A boy and a girl, one looked to be around seven, the other ten at most.

She called him Mickey, not Dad, and they didn’t look alike. At least, not enough that I noted a resemblance. And at least two times she mentioned meeting him when she was thirteen.

If I’d missed the clues it was only because there weren’t any. There was no denying Kayla had done her best to make sure that I stayed in the dark about her relationship to Mickey. I had to wonder if she ever planned to tell me. And then I had to wonder what I would’ve done if she had.

I stood and punched the bag one more time for good measure. Maybe tonight would be a night of discovery for me all around. I’d go out and discover what it felt like to get rip-roaring drunk for the first time in my life.

I swiped the sweat from my forehead with a towel just as the phone in my pocket buzzed again. Ignoring it, I took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top when I heard a loud banging noise from downstairs. Backtracking, I could feel my blood-pressure rising. Maybe Mickey had decided to revisit an old favorite and sent his goons to break in again. I’d been so caught up in my feelings and the look on Kayla’s face, I hadn’t even considered how old Mick was handling things. He could easily have decided that I’d overstepped my station. That blood was thicker than money and now, instead of wanting to be in business with me, he’d be better off if I disappeared. For good.

I probably should’ve been scared, but I was so over Mickey Flynn and all his bullshit, part of me relished the thought of sending his flying monkeys home with broken wings just to see what he would do.

I reached the bottom of the steps and the sound came again. Banging, but like fists on the door. Just in case, I grabbed a baseball bat I kept behind the front desk and made for the door. My phone buzzed again right as I reached it and peered through the glass. Kayla stood there, rain pelting her red head as she hunched over her cell phone. She was damp and shivering, and when she looked up at me through the pane, I could tell she’d been crying.

Fuck.

I stood there for longer than I should have before setting down the bat, unlocking the door and opening it to let her in.

She closed the door behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. "I was wrong,” she blurted, before I could say a word. “And I’m sorry.”

Her breath smelled like wine and I looked over her shoulder into the parking lot. “Did you drive here?”

She shook her head and pushed a wet hank of hair from her cheek. “No. I took a cab.”

“And you had him leave?” I snagged my phone from my pocket and thumbed in the number for the local cab company.

“Can’t you at least hear me out?” She grabbed my wrist and gazed up at me through bloodshot, puffy eyes. “I’m here. I’m admitting I was wrong. I’m begging you to listen and at least let me apologize. What else do you want from me, Matty?"

I squeezed my eyes closed and leaned back with my ass against the desk. That was a great question. What did I want? I wanted everything to be like it was before I'd ever met Mickey Flynn or his fucking daughter. I wanted to run my little gym and work toward being a fighter on my own, with my brothers at my side. So unless she had a time machine, I was shit out of luck. I pressed the red end button on my phone and yanked my wrist from her grasp.

"You have nothing I want. Not anymore."

She flinched and I couldn't even muster any sympathy. This whole thing was a nightmare of my own making. I'd told her I didn't want her around. That she'd be nothing but a distraction and I was right, but I let it happen anyway. I should've put my foot down with Mickey right then and there, but I let my dick do my thinking for me, whether I was willing to admit it or not. And look where it had gotten me.

"You don't know me. You don't know my life," she whispered. The pleading in her eyes was gone, and now they were empty except for dull resignation. "You don't want anything to do with me anymore, that's fine. No one does after a while. No one except Mick. So if you can't handle me and the baggage that comes with me, then I’ll go because you know what? I don't want you either." She turned, shoved the door open and then walked out, leaving me there with my head in my hand.