Tapped (Totaled Book 2) (14 page)

            Sue interrupted my internal chastising. “So what about this letter? Or note? Whatever it was. You really think that you can just mail a letter to Mick’s house and not get it noticed? I seriously doubt that Drew is checking the mailbox. That wouldn’t really be thought of as considerate in the houseguest etiquette handbook.”

            I explained the note and how I’d hidden it in the thermal case with the pie, feeling more and more stupid with every word that came out of my mouth. I obviously hadn’t thought the plan out very well.

            “Okay, this I know for sure. You can bet your ass that someone saw the note. You better hope it was Joan and hope her romantic side was sitting right at the surface last night. If not, you’re going to have some explaining to do. What did the note say? Did you write in code or Pig Latin or something?”

            “Good God, no. We aren’t in seventh grade.”

            She cut her eyes over to mine and raised her eyebrows in an expression that asked, “Are you sure about that?”

            It was difficult to divulge what the note said. It felt so personal to me, like it was just supposed to remain between the two of us, but my best friend had not so gently just pointed out that anyone and everyone could’ve and probably did read it and were likely sitting around a round table debating how to handle me.

            “It basically just said that I love him and I’ll wait for him.” I felt such shame in saying the words, despite feeling so sure of how I felt.

            There was awkward pause and the air in the room became thick. I tried to see what her face would reveal about her thoughts but I was met with a blank expression and sad eyes—full of pity kind of eyes. I didn’t like the feeling of my best friend pitying me.

            “Will you? Wait for him, I mean. How long will you wait for him?” Her retort was confrontational but melancholy. I didn’t answer, so she challenged further. “He has a lot to deal with, Bree. His chosen career alone is demanding and stressful, but he obviously has some issues that he needs to work through and it’s not just going to be an overnight fix that you can…”

            “I know!” I growled. “You don’t think I’ve thought about that? I know he’s messed up, but I can’t help that I love him.”

            “I’m not asking you not to love him. I’m just asking you to think about whether it’s worth it or not. Just because two people love each other doesn’t mean they’re supposed to be together. What if he never changes? What if he never gets better? What if he…” She paused at the tears rolling down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Bree. But what if he doesn’t love you enough?”

            “Enough for what?” I sputtered.

            “Enough to put in the work. Enough to go to therapy. Enough to give up fighting. Enough to do whatever it takes.”

            “I don’t… I guess… I don’t know. I’ll have to find a way to get over him if that happens.” The thought made me nauseated.

            “I hope he does. Please believe that I hope he makes this right, Bree, but I want you to think about the possibility of him not succeeding. I want you to be prepared to lose him. Some tigers don’t change their spots.”

            Sue rose to return her now empty canister of icing to the kitchen. I didn’t even have the energy to correct her and point out the fact that leopards have spots, not fucking tigers. I chose not to bite back and spit any nastiness because when I sat there and let it all sink in, she was exactly right about the need to prepare myself to be rejected or worse, left behind.

Chapter Eighteen

DREW

            Approaching the unfamiliar gym from the parking lot and seeing Liam standing outside the entrance was like a gut punch before I even entered. I had no idea how this was going to go down and hadn’t thought about what to say to him. The level of my guilt rose even higher as I realized that I hadn’t even thought of how Liam would feel about all of this yet. What do you say to the brother of your girlfriend to make him feel better about the situation? How do you explain that you “accidentally” beat her to a pulp when he can’t possibly understand? What kind of excuse could you offer for lying to him, knowing that he idolizes and considers you his best friend? What explanation could you give for nearly killing his twin sister? I felt like I was walking down death row and slowed my pace, silently praying for him to speak first. He didn’t.

            “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here,” I offered in a near mumble, avoiding his eyes like a coward.

            “My dad made me come.”

            I’d never heard him sound so much like a pissed off little kid. He opened the front door for me to walk in first, giving me the I-dare-you stare down. I walked through, choosing to not be confrontational before we got our gloves on. He had every right to be chapped. I deserved his rudeness and then some.

            We were greeted by Brett and Tony, Pat’s two right hand men, the guys I worked closest with. It was a relief. I was unsure of how much they knew about my situation, but if anyone had to know the real deal, I was glad it was them. They’d both been with me in Atlanta and had my back not only in the pub when Purifoy and his entourage started shit, but also during everything after. They were there to help stave off the media circus and hung around when Liam was hospitalized. They were my trainers, but I also considered them my friends. 

            “There he is!” Tony called out with a genuine smile, going in for the universal man embrace handshake/one-armed hug. I obliged and met Brett with the same gesture. Liam walked off immediately to the side of the room, sitting on the bench to shed his sweatpants and lace up his sneakers. Brett, Tony, and I all shared a collective look of confusion but I was relieved that neither of them pushed the issue.

            I followed suit, getting ready to warm up and moved right into jumping rope to get my heart rate up. Tony joined me and initiated some obligatory small talk.

            “So Pat didn’t tell us much about why we’re driving all the way to the boonies to train now. Care to enlighten me?”

            Pat hadn’t prepared me for this. I thought he would’ve given them a little something. Some sort of explanation. But no, he left it all up to me. I guess I could respect that, but a large part of me wished that he’d taken that bullet for me.

            “Oh, nothing really. I’m having some issues sleeping lately and I’m seeing this new doctor, a specialist. He thought a change of scenery might be good for me in combination with what we’re working on, so I’m staying with some friends for a while.” I sounded ridiculous and pathetic.

            “That’s cool. You’re staying with Mick, right?” he replied. “He’s a great guy. I hear he’s got quite a spread out there in Baker County. Acres and acres of land and horses, right?”

            “That’s right. It’s pretty nice. I mean, I’m not used to all this country, but it’s a beautiful little piece of land. He’s done a lot to it and I’ve been helping him around the property as much as I can. It’s in the sticks, that’s for sure.”

            Tony chuckled and we jumped in a swift rhythm for a couple of minutes before he spoke again. “My ol’ man used to have trouble sleeping. He was on all kinds of medicine. Just be careful with that shit. He was like a zombie during the day.”

            I nodded. I sure as hell didn’t want any meds, especially after that comment. We did a few other callisthenic exercises before Tony called everyone over to rehydrate and get wrapped up.

            “All right, guys, Pat made it clear that he wants you two in the ring,” Tony bellowed, “so let’s get in it. We have an hour before we have to be outta here.”

            I glanced over at Liam, who hadn’t so much as peeked in my direction since we walked into the gym. He looked pissed, almost bitter. And mean. I had no idea how he must feel in this whole situation. I was too concerned with how I was going to deal.

            “You guys wanna work on anything in particular? What do you feel like doing, Drew? You want to grapple and do some floor work or what?” Brett asked.

            “Spar!” Liam roared, his voiced raised and eager. “I think we should just spar.” His lips were a tight line as he stared me down, challenging me, daring me to say no. “You okay with that, Drew? It has been a while.”

            “Uh, yeah. That’s cool,” I replied nonchalantly. “Let’s do it.”

            We got our head gear on after our hands were wrapped up and came together with Tony next to us toward the center of the ring.

            “All right, guys, keep it tight and clean. No stupid injuries,”
Tony insisted sternly. “We can’t afford for either one of you to be hurt right n—”

            Liam leaned in slightly before Tony had finished speaking and I felt a quick uppercut into my left ribcage before I even saw it coming.
Shit, that stung.

            “Let’s go, Drew. Get your guard up. We wouldn’t want you to get injured,” Liam mocked.

            I stood there, dancing around with him as I caught my breath, wondering what the hell his deal was when it hit me like a chair to the face. He was angry. Really angry. We exchanged a few punches, his much harder than mine, and it was immediately clear to me that he wasn’t working out. He was fighting me.

            I answered his cheap shot uppercut with a strike to his abdomen that was a little lower than necessary and he wrapped up with me against the fencing of the cage to catch his breath.

            “Be careful, Liam,” I said into his ear, our faces mashed together as we vied for position. “I know you’re mad, but I’m not going to stand here and let you beat on me.”

            “Then don’t,” he spit out, shoving himself off me just far enough to cut up into my jaw with enough force to make me thankful I had my mouth guard in. The son of a bitch was acting like a child. But... I guess that was the only way he knew how to respond. He kind of was a child. After another few punches to my face and ribs, I figured it was time to let my inner child out and rumble a bit.

            We punched each other back and forth for a minute, each trying to add a little more force to our next blow. We both were kind of allowing the other to make contact, keeping our guard down just enough, and it didn’t take long for Tony and Brett to notice. Each of them screamed for us to cut it out and get our hands up, but this was no longer an exercise of practice or training. This was two men with an issue that they needed to work out in their own way.

            When a side kick to the side of my face made my vision temporarily blackout, I decided I was done playing around and took his ass to the mat. We grappled and wrestled, trading various holds and moves to get ourselves out of them, some just to appease Tony and Brett. But when I felt Liam countering and positioning his body in such a way that I knew I’d definitely messed up, everything went into slow motion. I was no longer able to read and anticipate his next move, which was my strength in this sport. He was going rogue and I was fucked.

            The bastard had me in an arm-bar hold. And it hurt. It hurt badly.

            “Liam, fucking let go!” I shouted.

            “Tap out then. Tap out if you can’t handle it!” he answered, pulling just a hair tighter.

            He could very easily break my arm or rip the shoulder right out of the socket if he wanted. I had no move to answer. I wiggled and thrashed, trying to free myself or get enough leverage to break the hold, but he wasn’t letting up. I felt the moment Tony fell to the mat, yelling loud and clear right into Liam’s face to let me free, but he would hear nothing of it.

            “If he wants me to let go, he can tap,” he boasted with broken breaths. He was getting tired and he had me by the balls, so to speak, but I refused to tap. Fuck that. Fuck him!

           
Balls.

            If he wanted to act like a fucking grade school punk, I could certainly oblige. I switched my left arm from trying to grab at his forearm and hammer-fisted it down as hard as I possibly could right onto his nuts, resulting in an instant release of his arm-bar bullshit. He gasped for breath and I turned over and brought myself into a standing position. I stared down at him, now on his hands and knees, unable to relax enough to stand up yet.

            “You asshole!” he retorted, turning his head to look up at me.

            “Me? Oh, I’m the asshole? You could’ve broken my fucking arm, Liam!” I was heated and pissed off—downright livid with him.

            “I wasn’t going to break your arm. You could’ve tapped any time.”

            “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” I mumbled. Hitting him in the nuts was a low blow, literally. But he wasn’t exactly playing fair. I looked to Tony and Brett, who were both dumbfounded. They had no idea how to handle us and it was apparent.

            “What the fuck is going on here?” Tony asked, sounding authoritative in his attempt to be all Billy Badass coach.

            “What’s going on is Liam is pissed off at me and instead of talking it out man to man, he’s trying to jeopardize my career. I won’t fucking have it. Sparring session over,” I declared. I started to walk away towards my bags and turned back to Liam. “Make sure you ice those!”

            “Fuck you!” he barked.

            I smiled and walked out of the gym, unwrapping my hand straps as I approached my car. I glanced at the dashboard clock and saw that I had about forty-five minutes until I had to be at Dr. Greiner’s office. Not enough time to go all the way back to Mick’s to shower and still make it on time. I’d planned on showering at the gym, but that was shot to hell now. I was going to have to go to this appointment a little rancid because after waking the poor guy up last night in the fury of a near emotional breakdown, I needed this session more than ever.        

Chapter Nineteen

BREE

            I hung out with Sue a little longer, watching some idiotic Housewives of Whatever reality show until I wanted to stab my eyes out. Those bitches were crazy. I thanked her for listening and got up to leave. She gave me a goodbye hug in her foyer that was just a little tighter and lingered for a little longer than usual. Just those few seconds more spoke volumes, a genuine best friend hug that said “I’m here for you” and “It’s all going to be okay” even when neither of us knew if it really would be.