“Fuck no. I owe you.” Our eyes meet in a non-verbal tell. He’s referring to the cabin.
I shake my head.
“Don’t make me say it.” He thinks that because I let Raven go back into that cabin, I saved his life. No matter how many times I tell him it was Raven who’s the hero, not me, he won’t let up.
For the first time since my little pow-wow with Gibbs, my heart rate slows. He wants to return the favor. He doesn’t owe me a thing. But if I was standing in his shoes, I know he’d do it for me.
“Fine. Let’s do this.” I turn and head for the octagon, reminding myself that Layla and Axelle are my priority.
Jonah’s wounds will heal, but the scars my woman carries never will. And the scandalous crap out there is a jagged scalpel that cuts deep.
They can’t take any more. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure they don’t have to.
~*~
Five minutes later, Jonah and I stand face-to-face in the octagon. Headgear, mouth-guard, and gloves in place, we bump fists. It’s on.
This isn’t about training. This is about burning shit off. Rex hangs nearby, probably to jump in if this gets ugly. And the way I’m feeling right now, shit’s definitely going to get ugly.
My eyes fix on Jonah’s, and my fists burn to make contact. Right now, he’s not my friend. He’s the answer to finding some f**king peace.
We circle around each other, and he waits for me to make the first move. Muscles clenched tight, my mind goes back to the conference room. The headlines. Layla’s body exposed. The UFL’s plan to capitalize on her embarrassment.
I throw my left fist. He dodges. I balance my weight. Flashes of Layla, her big brown eyes shining with tears, fill my mind’s eye. He moves. His arms wrap around my waist. My back hits the mat. I push with my leg, rage fueling my body.
He positions to lock my shoulders. “Fucking shit, man.” His grunted words sound strangled against the force of my hold.
Visions of a faceless man taking Layla against her will flood my range of view.
I flip on him. He’s down. I take full mount and rain punches to his headgear. A tiny voice whispers that this is dangerous. That Jonah can’t hold back once he gets pushed too far. And that’s exactly what I want.
I picture Layla alone at sixteen. Scared. Pregnant. Abandoned.
Anger, frustration, and helplessness swirl behind my chest. I swing my arms, kick my legs, and lock down on limbs. Our movements are a blur. Nothing is coherent, only the sound of our pained grunts filling the silence.
Someone calls to me. I ignore the interruption and push my body harder. More hits. Tighter holds. Another yell. My fists fly. Power infuses every cell. I’m lost in a fog that feels so f**king good.
Left-right-left-right
I’m on fire. Flying high and nowhere close to being finished. The violence rips through my body, doling out punishment. No one will f**k with her again.
I lose my breath. My throat constricts. The voice yells, but it’s distant. My arms are immobile. I’m pinned down. I thrash, fighting to get free.
And then it happens.
I’m fifteen again. Knocked from my bed and kidnapped. Blindfolded and thrown into a car. And all with the permission of the one person who’s supposed to protect me.
The fear is so real. A guttural roar rips from my throat. I throw my body forward, breaking free and swinging hard.
Another voice. Shut the f**k up. I throw a punch. Then another. I hit the floor, face down. Legs, arms, neck, stomach. I can’t move.
“Get off.” I buck against my captors.
The voice repeats until the words break through the haze. “Breathe, brother. Breathe.”
I push and arch my back. The alien rage thrives in search of release.
“This is f**ked, Jonah.” Rex’s voice is close, but muffled.
“Shut the f**k up, Rex. Give him some time.”
My muscles kick and tremble. I take a deep breath. Blinking, I remember where I am.
How the hell?
I’m on my stomach. Jonah’s across my shoulders with my hands locked behind my back. And from what I can tell, the dick holding my legs is Rex.
I growl and pull to free my arms.
“Calm down, dude. I’ll let you go when you calm your ass down.” Jonah’s words carry a hint of warning. He’s not messing around.
I take in a few deep breaths to slow my heart, and my muscles relax. What just happened?
“I’m good.” I suck down a shaky breath. “I’m good.”
“All right, Rex… on three…” Jonah counts and they push to standing.
I roll to my back, one knee up, and one hand on my heaving chest. Jonah and Rex are standing a couple yards away, alert and ready. Seriously, what happened?
I push up to sitting and toss my headgear and mouth guard aside. “Why the hell did you dicks—oh shit!”
Rex’s left eye is swollen shut, and there’s a huge cut beneath it.
Jonah’s headgear’s off. He steps close, eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember? I thought we were sparring.” I motion between us. “Why’d you f**kers double team me?”
Jonah drops his gaze to the floor and shakes his head.
I look to Rex. “What?”
“You went f**king nuts, man. You wouldn’t let up on Jonah’s neck. I jumped in, pulled you off, you came after me.”
No shit? No shit!
I rub my temples. This can’t be happening. How could I go wild on my friends and not remember? I was so lost in the haze, swinging blindly. Rex wasn’t wearing anything to protect his head. Fuck. I could’ve killed him.
I feel the blood drain from my face. I’m lightheaded as I try to make sense of my scrambled thoughts. “I did?”
“Fuck yeah, you did. Some freaky shit. It’s like you weren’t there,” Rex says.
“Blake, dude, what the f**k is up with you lately?” Jonah’s words aren’t pissed, but concerned.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I told you. Something sets me off.” I shrug. “I can’t control it.”
Just. Like. My. Dad.
Jonah gives me a hand and pulls me to my feet. I move to Rex, but have a hard time looking at his face. I can’t believe I did that.
I hold out my gloved hand. “I’m sorry, man.” Nothing I could say would be enough. “I feel like shit.”
He shakes my hand. “No need for apologies, bro.” He licks at the trail of blood that made its way to his mouth. “I like it.”
Jonah chuckles at my side. “Crazy motherfucker.”
“Still, you should have Doc Z check that out. Might need a stitch.”
He wipes at his eye. “Nah, nothing a little ice won’t fix. You guys cool?”
Jonah and I nod.
“The Fade is f**ked come fight night. That’s all I’m sayin’.” Rex walks away shaking his head.
There’s something I should say. An explanation as to why I lost my mind back there. “Shit’s getting worse.”
“What?”
“My temper. Think I’m turning into my old man.” A wave of nausea turns my stomach.
“Can’t turn into anything you don’t want.”
I sure as shit don’t want to be like my dad, but this is happening more and more, and I have zero control. Now I know how Jonah must feel. “How do you lock it down? Keep from flippin’ out?”
“Before Raven, I couldn’t. But now it’s easy. I think about her, our baby. Too much to lose to go all psycho on a fool.” A wicked smile tips his lips. “That’s how I kept from killin’ your ass just now.”
I’ve got a woman, but bringing her to mind only fuels the beast inside rather than subdue it. This is so f**ked up.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give that a try.” My voice sounds flat in my ears. “I’ve got to run.” I pick up my gear and head to the locker room. Before I get a few feet from the octagon, Jonah calls my name.
I turn around and he’s gripping the chain link. “We’re even now.”
The corner of my mouth ticks with a grin. “We’ve always been.”
He gives me a chin lift that I return, and I head off in search for some peace. Something to ground me while the tornado rages in my head. I make a plan to swing by my house before I go to Layla’s.
A session alone with the music should do the job.
If not, I’m royally f**ked.
Twenty-three
Layla
“Hey, Mom?” Axelle’s words come from behind me as she heads from her room toward the kitchen. “Would it be okay if—whoa! Are you cooking?” She peers over my shoulder to the cutting board, where I’m cutting a bok choy.
“Yeah, don’t sound so surprised.” I throw a teasing smile her way. “I got paid and thought I’d make dinner for dinner.” I shrug, waiting to gauge her reaction before I tell her about the evening’s guest.
“Cool.” She drags a chair out from the table and sits. “Um… in two weeks there’s a dance thing. It’s one of those girls-ask-the-boys deals. I think I know who I want to ask but I don’t know if I should.”
Two things hit me at once. One, my daughter is asking for my advice. And two, she’s opening up to me about a boy. The combination of these realizations makes me smile into my shoulder.
I school my expression and give her my attention with a casual turn of my body. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” She pulls at her bottom lip. “I guess I’m afraid it might change things between me and him.”
“Does this boy like you?”
“As a friend, yeah.” A slight blush colors her cheeks. “But more than a friend? I don’t know.”
“But, you like him.” My lips pull up at the edges. “More than a friend?”
“It’s hard to say, I mean, how can I tell? I like hanging out with him, but I don’t know. It’s confusing.” She drops her head to the table. “Ugh.”
I sit across from her at the table. “Tell him that. Explain what you just explained to me, that you want to go with him, but that you value the friendship and don’t want to ruin it. Then, see what he says. My guess? Killian would be honored—”
“Mom!” Her eyes are wide and her cheeks flame.
“What? You didn’t think I’d figure that out?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “So you think I should ask him?”
“Absolutely. Just tell him you want to go as friends.”
After exhaling a long breath, she nods. “You’re right.”
“I’ve invited Blake over for dinner.” My attempt at casual comes out in a rushed mumble. I clear my throat. “He should be here soon.”
“Ah, so that’s what all this cooking is about. You’re trying to impress your boyfriend.”
Her teasing is payback, and my face heats. I go back to my food prep, hiding my immature reaction. “Yes and no.”
“What’re you making?”
“Stir fry.”
She hangs out with me while I chop, and we talk about school, laughing together as she shares her life with me. My chest is tight with emotion, evidence that things are looking up.