“I need you to weigh 170.” Her eyes roam my body. “And there is not an ounce of fat on you.” Haley bites her lower lip as she stares at my abs and I grin. Now I’ve got the girl’s attention.
I step off the scale and the lever clanks against the metal. “You keep telling me this is going to be hard-core. I’ll lose the weight.”
“Yeah, but you’ll also gain muscle. I’ll figure it out later. Come on.” Haley pulls at her hair again, then lets it cascade through her fingertips.
I’ve filled more than one night this week driving out the darkness and loneliness by fantasizing about rumpling Haley’s silky hair and placing my mouth over those gorgeous lips. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess not to push her against the wall and kiss her. The image in my head almost causes me to groan. My shirt’s off, her stomach is exposed, hot flesh would be touching...
Damn, I’m killing myself. I snatch my shirt off the floor and trail Haley to the open spot near the mirrors. I’m doing the friend thing with Haley. Just friends. No benefits. She’s proven time and again she deserves the respect. “You say that a lot.”
“What?”
“That you’ll figure things out.”
She raises one shoulder as she snags a yellow ball off the floor. “That’s because I will.”
“The weight of the world isn’t on you, you know? There’re a couple other billion people who can help you figure out the solution to global warming.”
I earn a half smirk from Haley as she rolls out the two-inch wide material. “I’m not worried about global warming.”
“You know what I mean.”
She pretends I didn’t speak. “Have you ever wrapped your hands before?”
“None of the fights I’ve been in have included advance notification so I bare-knuckled it.”
“And that,” she says with her best under-eyelash schoolteacher glare, “has to stop. Outside of this gym, there are no fights.”
“Hey, I don’t go looking for trouble. It finds me.”
Haley inclines her head at a stool and I sit. “Put your hand up, like this.” She sticks her hand in the air, palm down, with spread fingers.
I follow directions and Haley hooks a circle of material at the end of the wrap on my thumb. “Do you see the tag?”
I nod.
“It goes faceup. The trick to wrapping is to think in threes.” She winds the material around my wrist in layers. “Three up the wrist and then three back down. Tight enough that you create tension, loose enough that you don’t cut off circulation and cause your fingers to fall off.”
Haley’s thigh applies pressure to my own and I drop my knee open so she can slide between my legs. Every cell within my body hums and, when I breathe in, all I smell is the sweet scent of wildflowers. Her fingers work diligently, brushing against my skin as she weaves the material around and around again.
The seriousness of her face tells me she has no idea how close she is. How with each caress of her fingertips, I go up in flames.
“Is that why your hands are cold?” I ask in a poor attempt to keep from grabbing Haley and permitting my fingers to roam that tempting flesh. “You cut off circulation?”
Another under-eyelash glare. “Ha, ha, ha. The boy’s a comedian.”
“I forgot,” I needle. “Genetics.”
“I can take you now,” she says in a singsong way.
She could and the thought causes me to smile. “I’m game, except I forgot protection.”
Haley smacks my shoulder. “Fighting, not sex. My God, you have a one-track mind.”
“When I’m around you I do.”
“Create an X around your palm and then wrap it around your knuckles. Do this three times and don’t forget to keep your fingers spread apart. How’s this feel?” Haley moves her leg, creating this heart-stopping friction. Lightning zaps up the vein of my inner thigh and straight to very private areas.
“Is it too tight?” she asks.
Space is becoming an issue in my shorts. “Nope. It’s just right.”
“I hope you’re paying attention because you’re wrapping your other hand.”
“Do you ever think about kissing me?” Because I think about kissing her. Often. And a deep urge that sinks down past my bones wants her to feel the same.
Haley’s head snaps up and those gorgeous dark eyes stare into mine. Red creeps across her cheeks and neck. I have my answer and it only stirs the flames.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.
“Why?”
“I don’t date fighters anymore.”
I keep it to myself that we don’t have to date to kiss or that I’ve kissed lots of girls and have never once had a girlfriend. Haley’s a nice girl and I don’t want to scare her with my experiences. “Because of Matt?”
Haley goes quiet and pensive, focusing on the yellow strip like it has all the solutions. “Because of Matt.”
“You know, I’m not actually a fighter.”
“You are. It’s not about the gym, it’s about who you are. You may not have trained until now, but you’re a fighter.”
She continues her wrapping, creating a cross, padding the knuckles, then brings it back to my wrist. “You can use the excess material however you want. I choose to use it to wrap my wrists again.”
At the end of the strip is Velcro. She pats it into place and a shadow of lust darkens her eyes. Haley quickly withdraws her hands and puts space between us.
I stretch my fingers and admire her handiwork, but what I’m really doing is buying time. There’s more to Matt and Haley than a steady relationship that ran its course. There’s more to all of it—her, Jax and Kaden. “I meant what I said earlier—this isn’t all on you.”
“It is. No one else is going to watch Kaden and Jax’s back but me.”
“I don’t get it,” I admit. “From what I understand your family and Matt and Conner go at it all the time at sanctioned fights. Why the cloak-and-dagger? You and I know what really happened that night. What harm would it have done to let Kaden and Jax take the fall? They’re going to fight anyhow.”
“Because.” Haley’s chest moves as she inhales. My gut twists at seeing her so sad. “Because Matt would have taken it outside the cage. He would have fought them on the street with no ref and there is so much bad blood between them because of me that Jax and Kaden would have accepted the fights.”
“And the problem is?” A member of their family got jumped; retribution and justice were theirs to take.
“West...” Her gaze moves beyond my shoulder to the caged-in Octagon behind me. “Every time you walk into that cage, you’re saying you’re okay with dying, but at least you have some rules, a referee and a coach who can stop the fight if you don’t tap out. Can you imagine the bloodshed without rules, without a referee? And who says if Jax or Kaden try to tap out that Conner or Matt would let them walk away?”
I feel sucker punched. “The reason they want me in the sanctioned fight is because everyone thinks I’ll be crushed and it’ll be fun as hell to do it in public.”
Haley won’t meet my eyes and she shifts.
“Do you think they’ll crush me?” A heaviness bears down on my stomach. Haley returned for me that night and this fight is the only way I can repay that gift.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly. “This isn’t a movie or a TV show where the guy practices a few times, then takes on the world champ and wins. Matt and Conner and Jax and Kaden...they’ve trained for years and they still aren’t good enough to go pro. I’m hoping I have enough time to teach you how to defend yourself.”
An edginess claws its way into my muscles. “If you have no faith in me, then why the fuck are we here?”
Her head jerks up. “I feel awful you’re standing here in Jax and Kaden’s place. Every
second of my day, I think about how to shove you out.”
“If you did figure out a way to shove me out, you’d be on your own to deal with Matt and Conner. When you’re busy taking care of and protecting everyone else, who’s protecting you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
I laugh and Haley straightens: a pissed-off, sexy warrior. Give me all you’ve got, Haley, because right now, I’m handing it back. “Every time you think you have everything under control you don’t.”
“Says Mr. Disaster. You never think anything through and end up in messes like this and the guilt is on me if anything happens to you. Tap out of this right now, West. Walk away.”
“Do you always roll over and die? Since I’ve met you, you’re either running or scheming. The one thing you never do is fight.”
“I fought for you!” she shouts. “I fought for you and it cost me. It cost my whole family!”
“You’re not fighting for me now! You admitted you’re trying to shove me away!”
“Sometimes walking away is fighting!”
“Walking away is abandonment and I don’t abandon!”
I’m breathing hard and Haley’s eyes become glassy. “I...I...don’t abandon. I don’t.”
Her lower lip trembles and I’m so pissed at myself that I ram my wrapped fist into the bag. The bag swings and, when it returns, I smack it again. The strike feels clean and it feels powerful and I crave to do it again and again.
Haley blows out a shaky stream of air and I catch the bag. Our backs are turned toward each other, but I can see her in the mirror. It would be easier on me if she cried. Tears, for some reason, cause me to tune people out, but Haley doesn’t cry. Doesn’t even blink or wipe at her eyes. She wears the look of a person who continues to breathe though their soul is dead. It’s the same expression my mother wears when she sits in the room of her deceased daughter.
My insides ache as if salt is being poured into a million internal paper cuts. Haley never asked for any of this. “I’m sorry.”
It took me years to say that statement to Dad, yet only days to say it to Haley. I wish she understood how difficult those words are for me.
“What are we fighting about?” she whispers.
“I don’t know.” But I don’t think I’m fighting her. My eyes roam over the cage and suddenly I wish it were two months from now. I wish I could enter that cage and see an opponent across from me, because then I’d know where all this anger, all this rage should be pointed.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says to the floor. “I like you and because of that I’m struggling. There is no way I can prepare you to fight in two months.”
“So I don’t win.” I turn to face her, but she keeps her back to me.
“It’s not winning that concerns me. I’m terrified you won’t walk out of that cage.”
I flinch as if someone nailed me in the gut. It might have been less painful if she had. Pride screams at me to lash out at her again, but, in the mirror, her shoulders curve inward. Harsh memories surface of all those times Rachel was sick from anxiety and I never paid attention. I fucked up with Rachel. I’ve fucked up with my whole family.
It doesn’t matter. It changes right here. Right now. I’ve let everyone else I love down. Haley needs me and helping her protect her family is my one shot at redemption and I’ll be damned if she steals it from me.
I advance on Haley and, before she can retreat, I round on her and gently rest my hand on her face. My fingers weave into her hair and her jaw fits perfectly into my palm.
“Listen to me because I’m tired of saying it. I’m in this for good. You can’t get rid of me even if you wanted. If you shoved me out that door and locked it, if you never spoke to me at school, it doesn’t matter—I’m taking the fight in two months.”
Because I need this fight. For once, I need to know who I’m fighting against. I need to know I can do it. I need to know when I’ve been thrown away that I’m worth more.
“I’m doing this with or without your help, but I have a better chance of walking out of that cage with you on my side.”
Her eyes search my face, looking for something...a sign I’m lying, a sign I’ll take back the words. Haley licks her lips. “I can’t convince you to tap out on me?”
“No tapping out.”
Haley strains, wanting freedom, and as much as I’d like to keep her close, I drop my hand and let her go.
She circles the room, slowly...thinking. I can’t get the girl to stop overanalyzing. Finally she halts. “Okay. If this is how it’s going to be, then you need to wrap that other hand, then start jumping some rope.”
Haley
My breath catches when I step out of the locker room. Waiting for me, West leans against the wall next to my grandfather’s office. His blond hair is darkened from his shower and his shirt clings to him, like he’s still a bit wet. God, he’s beautiful.
We’ve been training together for a week and each night we keep playing out this same scenario. I’ll admit it—seeing him there every time... I go weak in the knees.
“Ready?” West glances in my direction and his lips tilt up into this endearing smile. It’s sexy and wicked and adorable all at the same time. I tuck my damp hair behind my ear. There’s one locker room and, within it, two showers. I loitered in the gym when we finished cooling down—washed down the mats and bags, cleaned the mirror, untangled jump ropes—anything to keep from being in the same area as him when he was naked.
I’m attracted to West. There’s no denying it. Whenever he’s around, my heart does this insane fluttering like millions of hummingbirds have taken up residence in my chest. So space...it’s definitely what we need. “I told you I’d take the bus home.”
“I know, but it’s late.” Eleven at night, our latest training session yet.
“Afraid I’m going to kick the bus driver’s butt?”
He chuckles and the flutter changes as the hummingbirds soar into the sky. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m worried about. Come on—let’s go.”
We walk out and I shiver from head to toe. The cold bites at my face, my fingers, my neck and burns my lungs. “The white flag will be out tonight.”
“What?” His breath crystallizes into a fog.
“It’ll be below freezing,” I say quickly, mentally kicking myself for the slip. “The homeless shelters ignore capacity and take in extra people when it’s this cold. Hold on for a sec. I’ve got to take care of something. You can head on to the car.”
I cut to the right of the warehouse and pick up the pace, half-grateful for the chore. Discussing homeless shelters is not on the top of the list...or the bottom. Last week, I told West I understood what it’s like to be homeless. He later asked me about the condition of the shelters. Does he know that’s where my family and I lived for a short time or did he make the assumption? Living in the shelter is my dirty secret. Just as dirty as my breakup with Matt and almost as dirty as my current living conditions.
Because West can be the most annoying guy on the face of the planet, he follows. “What are you doing?”
“I’m pretty sure I told you to stay put.”
West must have a hearing deficiency. “I’ll come along.”
“You never freaking listen, do you?”
“No.”
West continues to tread on areas of my life where I’ve never allowed anyone. I stop and so does he. “Will you go wait for me in the car?”
“Are you cold, Haley? Because I’m cold. I’m going with or we can stay here and freeze to death. Either way, we’re together.”
It’s cold enough that my wet hair is forming into icicles. “You are so high-maintenance.”
The parking-lot lamp behind him creates a shadow along his face, but that smile is hard to miss. I’m irritated with him and
I want to stay irritated with him, but those types of smiles make it hard to stay mad at him for long.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” he asks.
My mouth gapes. “I am not high-maintenance.”
He rocks his eyebrows. “I’m messing with you. For real, it’s cold, so let’s move.”
“Will you stay here? Just one second. I swear I’ll never be out of your sight.”
In a sweeping motion, he waves his hand for me to continue.
The blacktop beneath my feet crackles as it gives way to gravel and, with West a safe distance away, I approach the tiny camper and knock on the door. The muted and distorted sound of a crowd roaring fades away. John’s always watching a fight—for entertainment, for training, for scouting, for tips on how to beat an upcoming opponent.
The entire vehicle shakes as John opens the door. He’s in the same clothes as usual, a T-shirt and nylon athletic pants. He rubs his eyes as if waking from a deep sleep. “You’re done?”
“We’re done,” I say. “I forgot to get the keys from you so you’ll need to lock up.”
John grabs his coat. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks, but West will do it.”
He peers over my shoulder. “I’ll lock up after I finish watching this tape.”
Nerves cause a flash freeze in my bloodstream. “What about my uncle?” I’ve never come in this late before. Jax and Kaden have, sometimes they roll in later, but never me.
“I talked to him and he knows you’re training. I’ll warn you, he’s not happy, but he’ll let you in. You’ve got to be there by eleven on a school night and midnight on the weekend.”
I shift, suddenly consumed with the urge to run and meet curfew. “It’s eleven now. When were you going to tell me?” Anytime this week could have helped.
“I would have come and gotten you by eleven-thirty and taken you home.”
I assess sleepy “Grandpa.” “Uh-huh.”
The old man cracks a rare grin. “Go on before you do miss curfew.”
I hesitate. “Jax and Kaden weren’t here tonight.”
“They weren’t.”