Fighting to Stay (Fighting Madly Book 2) (4 page)

“How about this…I’ll come back before Gracie is born, but no promises before that. Is that better?”

James takes a seat next to me and tries to steal a bite of my hotdog. I swat him away. I try to give him my evil glare, but he only laughs.

“Well, listen, I have to go. I was eating dinner before you called, and James got back and might eat all of it if I don’t get off. I’ll give you a call later.”

“You and your food, Hadley. But that’s not why you can’t hide from me. I know you’re just getting off the phone, so I wouldn’t tell you how bad Reed is. How he asks about you every day? How—”

“Stop, Court.” I interrupt her. “You see him and I get that. But I can’t have you play middleman for us. I’ll give you a call later this week. Love you, girl.”

“I’m in the middle because you are putting me there. But I love you, too.”

I hang up with a mumbled goodbye before she says anything else and drop my head down on the table. And wish not for the first time, either, that Reed and I could move past this, not for him or me, but for our friends.

“No time to worry about her. Hurry up and eat what’s left of your food because we have somewhere to go tonight,” James says as he tries stealing my hotdog—and succeeds this time.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I reply with my head still on the table, a slight smile coming over me.

“You don’t need to get fancy; just wear what you have on. We’re only going to a party down the hill at one of the guard’s house. It should be fun. We need a break from watching shows you make me translate. So stop sulking and get moving.”

“I don’t ask you to translate every one of them, so you lie. And I’m not sulking, I’m pouting. There’s a difference.”

“Nope, Hads, there isn’t. Come on, get moving.”

I peek up at him. “Okay, but if it sucks, will you promise to bring me home?”

“I doubt it will, but yes, Hadley. I promise.” James smirks before finishing all of my dinner.

I take a sip of my second and last margarita at Gus’s house. Gus, the guard with zero personality, the one I thought was going to kill me until about an hour ago. Gus, the guard that apparently throws kick-ass house parties. Gus, who actually is a pretty cool guy when he doesn’t look like he wants to gut someone. And Gus, who is almost as American as me.

“You were born in Vegas and still live there?”

“I was and I do. I’m a partner in a security company there, and I came here to deal with some shit. The boss liked how I handled myself and that I spoke Spanish. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so here I sit.”

I’m sure if I would mention my family’s company, he would know it, but I like how no one knows me here, no one knows the amount I’m worth. No one knows the things that everyone at home does. So I keep my mouth shut about that. “Did you just quote
The Godfather
?”

Gus laughs, a real deep belly laugh, lifting his hands in the air. “Finally, a girl that gets it.”

I roll my eyes. With this guy, appearances are certainly deceiving. “So, Guster… You got yourself a wife, maybe a pretty girl for you to go home to?”

And this big man turns beet red. “I’m Guster now—like it. Not even close. My contract here is up in a couple of months, and I need to go home after that or my partner may send someone here to kill me. But I do have someone, although it’s new and she isn’t leaving here ever. So that leaves us kind of stuck in one spot.” He locks eyes with a gorgeous brunette chatting with one of the lawn-care people. And it clicks. That’s Martha’s granddaughter. The daughter that I’m pretty sure is the result of an affair her mother had with some rich bastard she worked with. He turned Martha’s daughter away while she was pregnant, but he still has his grip on his daughter’s every move. At least, from what I gathered from my talks with Martha about it.

“Good luck with that one.” I pat his knee and sure hope he knows what he’s getting into, because this could end with one hell of an explosion if it doesn’t play out just right.

“What about you? You and the good doctor have something?” He grins mischievously at me.

A chuckle threatens to escape but I hold it in. “James and me? Not even close. I had someone back home. I got burned pretty badly, so I came here to gather myself.” I bite my lip as I nod.

“You mean you ran away?”

“Oh, dear Guster, I wish it was that simple. But sadly, nope. It’s so much bigger. Like huge, movie-of-the-week shit. This guy was my flipping morning, my noon, and my fucking night all in a nice pretty little package of heartbreak and drama. He was, well is…hell, I don’t have a clue, but I found out he was married and had a kid. The idiot neglected to tell me about both of those things. Those being both important and you kinda shouldn’t hide them from someone you love. And the cake topper to all this, my psycho ex and his ex got together and tried to kill me. It was fun times…let me tell you.”

Gus’s expression changes. His eyebrow lifts, making it apparent he wants to ask me more, but he drops it as the music changes.

“Oh, Hadley. I love this song, and that means you must dance with me.” He offers his hand enthusiastically. I just shake my head, but he doesn’t give my no a second thought as he grabs my hand and leads me onto the makeshift dance floor.

The beat of the music fills my ears and I can’t help but lift my hands above my head and move. I peek over at James and his eyes widen when he spots me having fun. He raises his beer to me, a small proud smile playing on his lips, and that’s all it takes for a laugh to slip from my mouth. A
real
laugh, which I feel all the way through my body. It courses its way from the bottom of my toes to the roots of my hair. With each chuckle, with each new song and a smile plastered to my shining face, I know this is living—really living.

Time has passed. I’m healing and some of the weight I have been holding in vanishes. I couldn’t care less about the people around me, about what scars I have rooted in me. The only thing I want is to have fun—to make my own memories, enjoy the crazy journey.

Gus grabs me by the waist, gathering me into him, and we dance all the way until the sun rises over the hills.

April and May brought clouds and rain, and June brings sunnier skies and warmer weather, and it lands us back in the city. D-day is a little more than a month away; the deadline to go home to visit Courtney and Gracie swarms around me. The thoughts of seeing—of facing—Reed again has me equal parts terrified and petrified. I’ll turn into a pile of mush at his feet the moment he opens his mouth to me, the second my eyes meet his. The possibility of taking this time out from my life to regroup will be for nothing. It’s all a mess of paralyzing fear within me.

“Do you need another Coke, Hads?” Gus asks as he brings his beer to his mouth.

“No, I’m good. Do you really have to leave me tomorrow, Guster? I think you should stay here with me.” I stick out my lip to pout. I don’t want him gone. It’s going to be too quiet, too lonely. James picked up more and more shifts since we got back, so it leaves me alone more than not, but Gus, being my lifeline, comes up on the weekends to visit.

“Some of us have to go back to the real world. We have bills to pay,” he teases.

“You and your jokes. Just stay till I leave, that’s all I’m asking.”

Gus glances up to the only television in the bar, mumbles something under his breath, and sets his full beer down before speaking again. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to see this fight; it’s going to be a death match. Why don’t we go to the place down the street? I feel like shaking my ass with you one last time.” His voice sounds rushed.

“All right.” The television is calling at me to see what fight he’s talking about. I take a peek and I spot him—in all his damn tattoos, danger, temptation, and glory.

Six months away, six months without speaking, without seeing, without his touch, and with one glimpse of Reed, it’s like I left yesterday. My stomach still dips, flips, and spins when I see him in the cage doing what he does best. I fight the urge to turn away from him, but I lose as the camera zooms in at the first hit he delivers. And then the second hit, he wails in the guy’s face, and three more fast, hard ones and the guy falls down, arms reaching out, and lands on the mat with a thud. But Reed doesn’t let up. With his fists clenched tight, Reed pounds into the guy’s face and blood spatters all over the once-clean mat but he doesn’t hesitate. He repeats his swings over and again, only stopping when the official hauls him off. Reed gave everyone a boxing match, gave the guy a beat down, but for what? No one is going to be happy about what happened tonight.

The official has Reed against the chains shouting in his ear, but Reed doesn’t spare him a second glance. He’s solely focused on the man lying on the ground, however not with the excitement Reed usually has after a win. It’s absent, replaced by a profound rage burning in his eyes, in his brain, in him. A rage that I’ve never witnessed before. The official drops his hold and Reed turns his back on everyone, his hands grasping the chains, his chest rapidly moving, his eyes vacant through the lens as he unlinks his fingers from the cage—only
lightly
taping his sparrows on his chest three times before he looks up to the lights above him.

Two things—two major things—are different about this time than any before. The hits I once felt, I didn’t, not even a slight thud in my heart. Where only two sparrows were tattooed before, there’re now three. Only the smallest one is inked in all different stages mid-flight before turning into a star. He placed a symbol of my baby we lost above his chest, over his
heart
. Our little sparrow is tattooed, turning to the stars. Like her name, like how she left this earth.

I would be heartless if the sight of this tribute didn’t play with my heartstrings, but the time to grieve for our loss is gone, and my time to mourn has long past. But not for Reed. The passion he held for the cage is dead. My Reed is gone. He is all Riker now.

This isn’t who I remember.

This isn’t who I love.
Loved
.

The cheering crowd is the only thing I hear, but no one gathers around him, not a single person steps in to congratulate him. Lance and Kenny keep their distance on the other side of the cage, no smiles even on their faces over the win, because there was nothing deserving about this one. Because I left, because I had to run far and fast away.

Gus glances at the TV and back at me a couple of times with his arms crossed over his chest and his lips open to ask a question, only to close them just as quickly. I don’t offer anything to him, and my attention is back to the man holding onto a huge chunk of me.

I get the answer to the question I asked myself minutes ago…here, miles and miles away from this man. Yes, I love Reed. That will never change, and as much as I love him, I have to love myself more. I have to fix myself. I can’t let all the hard work I’ve done crumble. I have to be strong, because like it or not, I will have to face him at some point in the future. And I’ll be as ready as I can for it.

My heart will always beat for him, and what we had is the only thing I ever really wanted—what I always prayed for, but right now I don’t need it. Our love isn’t worth the risk of me stepping on the merry-go-round of emotion to only be thrown off again
—
because
that’s
what it would do. There isn’t a big enough first-aid kit for the wounds I’d have after that kind of tumble.

What a difference growing up does.