Eric expected Jace to lead him to the family room, which had a well-stocked bar, but he led him into his home gym.
"Do you have a secret stash of booze in here?" Eric asked.
"You don't need booze."
"I beg to differ."
"You need to hit something."
"Or someone." Though he'd already hit a certain someone, and it hadn't solved his problems, only made them worse.
"Sit," Jace said, indicating a bench along the wall. He picked up a roll of white tape and grabbed Eric's free hand to tape Eric's knuckles. "Talk."
Eric released Brownie, who went to stare at herself in a floor-to-ceiling mirror along one wall. Eric allowed Jace to tape his hands and wrists while he told him what had happened at the Blake residence.
"Do you think she still cares about him?" Jace asked when Eric reached the end of his story.
"Looked like it."
"I'd have hit him too."
"You would have?"
Jace nodded. "But not in front of her."
"Too late to fix that part."
"Yeah. So now you've got to play it cool. Get the aggression out of your system so you don't do it again." Jace walked over to a large punching bag suspended from the ceiling. "What's his name again?"
"Isaac."
Jace used the tape to make a letter I on the punching bag. "I'll leave you two alone," Jace said. "I'll be in the family room. Come find me after you kick his ass."
Eric felt a little foolish beating the shit out of a punching bag. First of all, punching bags didn't shit. Second, they didn't fight back. While Eric loved to engage in a good brawl, he wasn't into doling out unchallenged beatings. Sometime during his attempts to beat that tape letter off the punching bag while imagining Isaac's perfect face, he realized that the guy would never fight back. Hitting Isaac was like beating up the punching bag and even less satisfying.
Drenched in sweat, Eric appraised what was left of the tape. "Fuck." He shoved the bag with both palms, sending it rocking back and forth.
Eric had learned to get what he wanted by fighting a long time ago, but he would have to change tactics in this case. Beating Isaac to pulp might be fun, but it wouldn't bring Rebekah back, and that's all he really wanted. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what would win her over again. He knew jewelry wasn't the answer. Maybe Jace had an idea.
Eric unwrapped the tape from his hands as he wandered through the house on his way to the family room. Jace nodded toward the empty recliner beside him. There was already a shot of tequila waiting for Eric on the side table. He sat on the edge of the chair and downed the shot.
"Feel better?" Jace asked.
"Not necessarily. I've come to the conclusion that I can't beat the shit out of Limp Dick if I want Rebekah back."
"So you officially broke up?"
"I don't know. I hope not. She was so pissed."
"Maybe you should call her. Talk to her."
Eric pulled out his cell phone and stared at the screen saver of himself and Rebekah kissing and smiling. She had a smudge of grease on her cheek. He'd snapped that picture the day before. A memento of them getting the Corvette running perfectly. How could he have fucked things up between them so quickly?
Eric decided he had no clue what to say and was afraid they'd get into another argument if he talked to her then. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'll probably say something I'll regret."
"Then text her," Jace said.
Yeah, text her. He couldn't put his foot in his mouth in a text message.
I'm really sorry, baby. I'll call tomorrow when I have my head on straight. Love you. He sent the message and sank back into the recliner, holding the phone loosely. Within a minute, his phone beeped with a message.
His heart dropped when he read it. Fuck you, asshole. I never want to see you again. Isaac asked me to marry him, and I said yes.
"What?" he sputtered. They have one fight, are out of each other's sight for two hours, and she's already agreed to marry Isaac? "No fucking way."
He dialed her number. The call connected, then disconnected.
"She hung up on me," Eric grumbled. He dialed her again.
"Hello?" a man answered her phone.
"Who is this?" Eric growled.
"This is Rebekah's fiancé, Isaac."
"Bullshit. Put her on the phone."
"Look, loser," Isaac said. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Don't call her again."
"Put her on the fucking phone."
"Take a hint. She doesn't want to be with you." Isaac hung up.