No one else does this.
I stay clear of men.
Abuse will do that to you. I’m a quiet wreck most of the time, fearing my father will show up around any corner, behind a closed door, hiding in a dark room. Except when Rowdy is near, which is not nearly enough, the fear dissipates like steam, wafting away.
Mom’s hand lands on my bouncing knee. Nervous habit. I get a quick smile but no words. Rarely does she have words for me. But the twinkle in her blue eyes and the dip of her chin tell me all I need to know.
Everything will be alright.
Frankie will be alright.
Gabriel’s baby—my niece or nephew—will be alright.
I believe her.
Or at least I believe that she believes it.
Mom is a woman of few words. Sometimes when she’s cooking, lost in a recipe, she’ll chatter away, an unconscious stream of thoughts, her soul reaching out to connect. But if I respond, acknowledge her verbal diarrhea, it’ll cease, and the quiet is nearly as consuming as the dark. That’s not to say she doesn’t speak to me. She does. Mostly nonverbal cues I’ve learned to read well over the years. A tilt of her head, the slant of a brow, a flash of her eyes, a shrug of a shoulder, a tilt of her lips. The woman is full of things to say. You just have to know how to listen.
My father, the son of Satan himself, made sure my mom forgot how to speak, how to communicate. How to hug her children. How to face the world head-on and say fuck you. But we survived my father—thanks to Gabriel. My brother kicked our dad out when he was barely fifteen, but big and strong enough to beat Satan’s spawn within an inch of his life for what he tried to do to me—for what he did do to our mother, repeatedly.
Gabriel saved us—saved me.
But still I’m afraid of the dark.
I’m afraid of men.
All except one… Well, and Gabriel, of course.
And maybe…
“Hey, Reese, you doin’ okay?” Captain Jimmy Durant eases into the seat beside me after handing my mom a steaming cup of coffee.
My gaze darts to his before finding my fingers.
Damn, Reese, give the man a break. He has purely good intensions.
I slide my eyes back to his kind green ones. “Yeah, I’m good.” He wears his fatigue on his face like skin cream, unseen but its effect evident. “You worried?”
Frankie has been in labor for what seems like days, but in truth, it’s only been fifteen hours. I think that’s kinda normal for first-time moms. Though, I doubt Frankie gives a crap about what’s normal. If it feels like days to me, I’m sure it feels like an eternity to her. I’ll need to be extra nice to her for not only putting up with my brother but for pushing out his ginormous kid.
Cap leans back, stretching his long legs, crossing his arms and ankles. “Nah, these things take time. Their munchkin will get here when he or she is darned good and ready.” He speaks like a seasoned pro, even though he doesn’t have any kids of his own.
It’s sad. He’d make a good dad. He has enough surrogate kids in his life, so maybe he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out. But I think it’s the kids he could have had that are missing out on having him as a father. I know a thing or two about sucky fathers. Cap would definitely not be one of them.
Yeah, Cap is another man who doesn’t scare me. He can be scary at times, especially when he’s frustrated and calling my name in that deep, gruff, commanding voice of his when he can’t find something on his desk. Usually, it’s right where it should be, if he’d remember my new filing system.
I started working for Black Ops MMA pretty soon after Gabriel won his big fight—the one in the ring, not the one to win back Frankie’s heart. Cap became busier than ever, forcing him to make the tough call to move his second and newest gym back to Vegas where so much of the action is, and where his first gym is located. Luckily, everyone came with him. Frankie and Gabriel bought a place outside of town not too far from the new Black Ops MMA elite facility. Coach Long, Jonah, Rowdy, and all the other fighters moved too. Cap is like the Pied Piper of fighters. Where he goes, they follow.
The move bringing my brother back to me made me more than happy. I felt settled and a peaceful in a way I hadn’t felt since he’d moved away, or, truly, since he’d left for the army. Having my family close and growing is how it should be.
My apartment isn’t too far from Gabriel’s house or the new gym. Mom’s is a little farther out. We may be able to convince her now to sell and buy something closer when she realizes how much time she’s gonna want to spend with her new grandbaby.
Cap bumps my shoulder. “Don’t worry. That brother of yours won’t let anything happen to his woman or child. He’ll burn down heaven and hell to keep them safe.”
“That he would.” A smile warms my lips. He totally would. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
Most of the fighters are here, waiting to see what their king, Gabriel, has. But I’m really only looking for one fighter in particular.
“It’s late. Don’t worry about coming to work tomorrow—”
“No, I’ll be there. You—”
“Take a few days, Reese. Spend it with your family. Be with them.”
“Cap,” I breathe, surprised at his generosity toward me. I’m not one of his surrogate children. I’m his employee. Maybe it’s for Frankie—who he sees like a daughter—and Gabriel, who he’d call son if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s practically his son-in-law.
If love, not blood, chooses your family, then Cap is Frankie’s father.
His focus slips past me to my mom. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” You don’t need to worry about her too, is what I hear in his promise.
Maybe Mom and I are part of Cap’s family, his collection of broken-souled misfits.
I wouldn’t mind.
He’s a good man. Rough around the edges but smoothed out enough to not get pricked if you get too close.
Pricked. Makes me think of Rowdy, Darkboy, as Frankie calls him. Those two have a unique bond. Gabriel doesn’t seem to mind. I, on the other hand, am not sure Rowdy isn’t in love with her. I can’t blame him. She’s amazing. Tough and feisty. Overcoming her own horrific father and ex-boyfriend who treated her like trash.
I want to be her when I grow up.
Maybe if I was, Rowdy would love me instead.
“DON’T JUST STAND THERE, DARKBOY. COME in,” a red-faced Frankie barks from the hospital bed surrounded by machines.
The sight and smell remind me of the last time she was in the hospital after an emotional confrontation with her ex, Austin. Gabriel had barely shown up in time to save her as she fell down the stairs at Cap’s flagship gym.
Austin didn’t push her.
It truly had been an accident.
Turned out, Frankie was already pregnant with Gabriel’s baby. She just didn’t know it. Emotions and dizziness were the culprit.
Moving toward the bed, I shake off the memories of the last hospital visit, her being unconscious and beaten up.
She’s fine. She’s in labor. She’s not hurt. I tell my inner protector to stand down. Not like the man holding her hand would let me throw any testosterone-laden, misplaced ownership in her direction.
We’re friends. That’s all we’ll ever be. I shove my fists in my pockets to keep from reaching for her other hand.