Slammed

  I shake my head and his already grave expression darkens. “I was about to go for a walk. You can join me…if you want.”

  The briefest hint of relief flickers over his features and the tiniest smile pulls at the corners of his lips, but the stress lines that occupy the majority of his face don’t let it spread to his eyes. I don’t think I can recall the last time I saw him smile a full smile. You know, the ones that make eyes curve and skin crinkle? I miss it. It’s a look I’ve always favored on Jackson. As he turns and heads down the stairs, I manage a quick inhale and exhale to calm my nerves. We’ve never walked before—without purpose, I mean. A casual stroll and possible meaningful conversation isn’t a path we’ve taken. What if the words I want to say don’t come when I need them? I’ve wanted to talk with him on a deeper level for so long. What if I choke when it finally happens and I miss the opportunity? Without thought, I shut the door and fall into step beside him. Occasionally, our arms brush and it sends a jolt of electricity through my system. We don’t talk as we walk, but he doesn’t have to speak for me to understand his mood. He walks much like me—shoulders slumped and heavy steps. It isn’t until we pass the manor on the corner that he finally decides to open his mouth.

  “Selena—”

  Cutting him short, his phone goes off, beeping like mad. I take note of the way his jaw tightens and his teeth clench. My own frustration spikes, coiling angrily in the pit of my stomach. Somehow, I manage to swallow it as Jackson fishes his phone from his pocket and glances at the screen. I don’t peek, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. He reads the words on his screen for a while as we walk. Each long, painful second is a drag on my resistance. My mind runs rampant, wondering what he was going to say. I almost freeze from shock when he extends his phone to me. His phone has always been off limits, locked by password. I look at it, then at Jackson. His dark green eyes search mine and I wonder what he’s looking for? Acceptance? Understanding? Pity? I can’t tell.

  “Read it,” he demands, nudging his phone closer.

  I arch a brow and he slightly dips his head. Cautiously, I pluck it from his fingers and read the words on the screen.

  I’ve imagined our reunion in my head over and over, Jackie.

  “There was a woman I told you about…do you remember?” he asks.

  I nod, but avoid his eyes as I continue to read the message.

  I can’t say you running out on me was one of the scenarios I used. Fight me all you want, baby. You know I like it when you’re difficult. xo

  “That’s from her.”

  Her. I fight off a shudder as I read the text over and over. Reunion. Jackie. Baby. That’s what happened today? He saw her? Finally, I peel my eyes from the screen to look at him, but his attention is focused on the dark sidewalk.

  “She’s in Portland?” I ask, ignoring the torturous feeling of jealousy and selfishness deep in my stomach.

  He nods. “She’s in Portland. She stopped by the gym today.”

  My finger twitches to scroll through the rest of the thread, but I don’t. They seem to be one-sided text messages, but I’m going to guess by the look on Jackson’s face he’s wanted to respond to them.

  It takes all of my strength to hand back his phone and start walking again, but somehow, I manage.

  I peer sideways. “Earlier, you saw her before you came to see me?”

  He nods again. “I wanted to talk to you and tell you everything…but finding the right words was too hard. When you fell asleep, I ran.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations, Jackson.” Or at least he doesn’t for any past relationships. Whatever happened is between him and her. “Your relationship with her wasn’t easy. She was your first love—probably your only love—and I’m…” I desperately search for a word to use and come up short. “I’m me. If you feel like you owe me some sort of reason as to why you don’t want to continue what we’re doing because she’s back, you don’t. I get it.”

  Jackson falters in his steps and he grips my forearm, pulling me to a stop. “What? No. I’m not here to end it with you, Selena.”

  He says ‘end it’ like we started something in the first place. I ignore the urge to let the words roll off my tongue. “Then why are you here?”

  “To tell you everything. To bare my entire soul and hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for all of the horrible things I’ve done and said to you.”

  I look deep into his eyes, confused. What does this woman have on him? Trying to get Jackson to talk was like opening a tin can with a rubber spoon and yet, here he is, all but begging me to listen to him pour everything onto the table. I purse my lips. Could it be? His green irises flare urgently, demanding a chance at an explanation. Could he be worried about losing me in the crossfire now that his ex is in town? What could she possibly say to me that would turn me off Jackson? And she’s out of her mind if she thinks I won’t fight tooth and nail for him.

  “How’d you meet?” I ask, not really wanting to know the story.

  I figure the only way to get Jackson to trust me is to get him to talk to me and feel comfortable about it. He rubs his hand over the back of his head a few times.

  “I was young when I first met her—sixteen. Amelia was above legal age.”

  I gasp. “Did she know?”

  “Yeah, she knew, but she didn’t care.”

  I feel my face twist in disgust and Jackson’s eyebrows lift in sympathy, offering a subtle apology for disturbing me. I’ve impersonated a lawyer enough times to know statutory rape is a thing.

  “We met in a night club and I should’ve known from the moment I saw her that she was bad news, but I didn’t care. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—much prettier than the girls I saw at school. I was a good boy, believe it or not. I was getting good grades, participated in different sports, and on Monday and Thursday nights I’d train at the local MMA school.”

  I can’t judge him for sneaking into clubs at a young age. Olivia and I did the same thing—or I did. Olivia’s parents rarely let her out at night.

  “It’s a passion of yours?” I interrupt quickly, using his loose tongue to my advantage. “Fighting?”

  I assumed Jackson always had an interest in the sport because he worked with Seth leading up to, and during, his MMAC career, but he’s never mentioned how passionate he is about it.

  A sad smile curls his lips. “It was.”

  I frown. “Was?”

  “She made me fight so often I grew tired of it. The mere thought of fighting set me on edge and I had to stop.”

  I frown harder. “She made you fight?”

  Jackson sighs, his jaw tightening briefly. “I attacked innocent people because it turned her on. It made her want me more and that was enough for me.”

  My hand shoots to my mouth and I cover my lips. “What the fuck?”

  “Yep.”

  His lips purse. I feel ill and I don’t know whether I should condemn Jackson or blame Amelia for manipulating a young boy.

  “How could you go through with that? For sex?”

  His irises flash—sympathy, as clear as day. “For love.”

  Ouch. Briefly, I wonder if punching me clean in the stomach would hurt more than those two words. It seems it was so easy for him to fall in love with someone like Amelia. How can someone so terrible be so loveable? I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve never molested young boys or played emotional games and yet I’m impossible to love, apparently. I feel all of my emotions, my nerves—everything—twist painfully inside my body.

  “I wanted her to love me like I loved her,” he adds as some sort of reasonable explanation.

  “How much did you love her?”

  He cringes. I don’t want to hear the answer either, but my heart is a masochist. It wants to know every fucking detail about a love that strong…a love it will never have the pleasure of feeling unless he returns it.

  “Selena.”

  My name is a request for me to take back my question, but I don’t.
If he wants to talk then he has to answer every question that falls from my lips. “How much?”

  Endless seconds roll by, every one more painful than the last. When he speaks, I immediately regret my question.

  “I loved her enough to leave school, ditch my parents, hate Seth, let her choose my tattoos, and hit whoever she wanted me to hit. I loved her enough to let her hurt me, abuse me, and fuck me in ways that caused me physical and emotional pain.” He expels an angry gush if air from his cheeks. “I loved her more than I loved myself—more than I loved anything else. One bat of her eyelashes and I was smitten. I would’ve killed for her and I would’ve spent every day of my life in misery if it meant keeping her happy.”

  I swallow hard. I hate it. I hate the tears welling in my eyes. I hate the feeling of absolute disgust swirling in my stomach, but mostly, I hate that I’m jealous of someone as psychotic and unappreciative as Amelia. I’d never make him feel the way she did and probably still does.

  His stare falls from mine, clearly uncomfortable with my little water display. “Don’t ask me questions like that, Selena. I’m not trying to upset you.”

  “You two broke up,” I state, swiping my jacket over my eyes and collecting lines of mascara. “How?”

  Jackson clenches his jaw—tighter than I’ve ever seen. “I woke up one morning and she was gone. That was it.”

  I eye him curiously. I’m not a mind reader, but I know when he’s keeping something from me. “Just like that?” I probe.

  His stormy irises flick to mine, challenging me. “Just like that.”

  His words are unconvincing—his walls trying to shut me out. I know because a stony expression falls over his features, even his eyes seems dark and unresponsive. “For someone you’d kill for, you’d think you’d try and find her, not move states in an attempt to forget her.”

  He shoots forward, swallowing the distance between us. I squeak as his large hands clamp down on my shoulders and squeeze me hard against his body. “Don’t make me go there.”

  “You want to talk and I want to know.” I rake my teeth over my trembling bottom lip. “I want to know it all. I want to know you.”

  Softening, his irises flick between mine. “Why? What are you hoping to hear?”

  My gaze drops to his lips in thought. Not even I know what I want to hear. Maybe I’m hoping, as he retells his story, he’ll realize I’m worth taking a chance on. I’m hoping he’ll realize that I can make him happy, unlike her. “I want you to get it off your chest, Jackson. All of it.”

  “What else can I tell you? I was in an abusive relationship. It changed me and it didn’t work out. The end.”

  Second by second he’s closing up, shutting me out, so I grasp at straws. “A lot of men suffer domestic violence at the hands of a woman. You need to talk about it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  He releases me with a slight shove and I stumble backwards before stabilizing my balance. Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, the tears that well in my eyes drip over onto my cheek.

  Jackson

  I hate seeing her cry. Every salty drip on her cheek churns my organs. It pushes and pulls, twists and turns, making me feel every bit of the asshole I am. Still, I refuse to be categorized under a label as ridiculous as domestic violence. A male suffering domestic violence at the hands of a woman? I’m physically stronger than Amelia and at least twice the size. I can only imagine the looks I’d get if I walked around claiming she’d managed to hurt me. It wouldn’t be a lie, though. She has hurt me…she’s hurt me with a never ending list of objects—shoes, lamps, knives, forks, books, chairs—anything a woman her size can pick up. However, the worst pain she ever inflicted wasn’t physical…the emotional games she played were beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. The day she left and I found out where she was…that was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.

  10:15 a.m. North Seattle Hospital. Room 317.

  I shake my head, not wanting to go there. I could forgive Amelia for everything she’s ever done to me, but not that. That day truly changed me.

  I clear my throat, embarrassed by how constricted it feels. “I’m not a victim.”

  “You’re not. You are a survivor,” she tells me and I snort.

  I’m not a survivor. I live with my past every single day. It still affects me and it seeps into my present days, poisoning my life. I’m not a survivor. I’m a loser. Always have been and always will be. I’m still tormented by Amelia. You can’t survive something you haven’t escaped.

  “A survivor. Right.”

  I turn around and push forward, walking back in the direction of Selena’s house. I need a break. For a first attempt, I gave Selena more information than I thought I would. Mentally, I can’t put up with any more of it. I need a rest. Sleep. I need sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Jackson

  (A few days later)

  My feet leave the concrete and I flick my wrists, sending the basketball out of my hands and slamming into the backboard before it bounces off the rim. Jolting to the side and catching the rebound, Seth chuckles and takes a shot himself. Of course, it goes in. Swish, without even touching the rim.

  “Show off,” I grumble, dropping myself onto the concrete.

  The warm air clings to my damp, exposed arms and I pray for a breeze to kick in and help me cool off. I hate playing basketball, especially with Seth. Grown men chasing each other up and down a court all for a ball? No thanks. If I’m going to get hot and sweaty with another dude, it’ll be when we’re locked in a cage and I’m punching him in the face. With a proud smile, Seth swipes his bare arm over his forehead and lowers himself onto the concrete beside me. I glance across the park at Olivia and Chloe playing in the sand at the bottom of the slide. Seth has the best life. No pathetic stresses, like exes, to bother him.

  “Have you spoken to Selena since you told her everything?” he asks and I know it’s a question he’s been dying to ask since we arrived at the park.

  I shake my head. “No, and before you say anything else, I’m not avoiding her. I’m giving her time to process what I told her.”

  Seth rolls his dark eyes. “Three days is more than enough time. Besides, Olivia tells me you didn’t exactly bare your soul to Selena. What you’re doing is giving her time to realize maybe you are just a dick who went through a bad break-up and now has girl issues as a result.”

  I grit my teeth. I know I didn’t confess everything to Selena. I barely scratched the surface¸ but this kind of thing takes time. I need to let it out bit by bit. I’m afraid if I pop the lid off my issues in one go, they’ll all pour out and drown me in the process.

  “I know what I’m doing, Seth. Let me handle Selena.”

  “Just trying to help.” He flashes me the palms of his hands and smiles. “When do you plan on visiting the underground again?” he asks, his gaze flicking to my eyebrow quickly.

  I’m far from being healed. I think Selena’s patch job is barely keeping it together, but the main thing is, it’s not bleeding and that’s good enough for me. In the passing days, I’ve contemplated entering another fight, but I’ve been tired and I’ve felt weak. Not to mention I’m terrified of running into Amelia there. No one can throw you off your game quite like she does.

  I shrug. “Next week, maybe. Why?” I smirk. “You wanna tag along?”

  Seth glances at Olivia and offers a smile when she waves at him. “Olivia would kick my ass.”

  I snort. “Scared of your woman?”

  He glances back to me, his lips wide and wolfish. “Fucking terrified.”

  We laugh, but I know he’s telling the truth and I don’t blame him. Olivia, though sweet enough, is fierce. She’s sweet and innocent like a little lamb one minute and a raging, confident lioness the next.

  “I know this is a waste of breath,” he begins, “but you know it’s not a good idea to fight with your eyebrow so weak, right?”

  I nod, but the underground doesn’t have rules. According to them, I’m as right as r
ain to enter the cage. “You know me better than anyone. When do I ever follow the good ideas?”

  He smirks. “It wouldn’t kill you to try.”

  It wouldn’t, but we both know I rarely take the easy road.

  “Are you gonna come, or not?” It’d be nice to have Seth in my corner, given all of the times I’ve stood in his.

  His eyes glaze over in thought and I watch Olivia and Chloe as he ponders. They stuff small sandcastle molds into a bag and Olivia scoops Chloe up as she stands. With an exhale, Seth shuffles on the concrete before lifting himself onto the heels of his feet. “I’ll see what I can do.” Using his legs, he pushes himself up and straightens his spine. “Is Selena going?”

  “No,” I answer immediately. “I’m not going to drag her into a place like that, and Amelia was there last time. I won’t risk them two running into each other.”

  “So that’s why you’re avoiding Selena?” he pries. “You’re afraid of what Amelia will do to her?”

  I glance up at him, not saying a word. I don’t have to. He knows that’s the reason I’m avoiding Selena.

  “Amelia is dangerous.”

  He counters. “So is Selena.”

  Selena is dangerous, I’ll give him that, but not in the same way Amelia is. Selena is emotional, but Amelia lacks any emotion—I don’t know which is more dangerous, and I’m not willing to find out. I was with her for years and lost count of how many times I told her I loved her, and she never said it back.

  “Selena may be annoying, overconfident, and unable to keep her mouth shut at the best of times, but she’s strong and her heart is always in the right place. Invite her. You need to surround yourself with people who support you, Jacks. It’s the only way you’re going to get through this nightmare and finally get rid of Amelia.”

  Silence falls between us as Olivia approaches.

  “Call me if you can’t make it,” I tell Seth before she’s within earshot and drop the subject. Discussing Selena with Olivia around will result in one thing: her telling me not to be a selfish asshole and to stop toying with Selena’s feelings. And I’ll tell her the same thing I’ve always told her: if Selena isn’t happy, she’ll leave. It’s the biggest line of bullshit I’ve ever said. Selena has tried to leave me, countless times, but I haven’t let her. If you were alone, surrounded by darkness, would you give up your only source of light?