“What did he do to you, Reese?”
Questions I can’t answer. Thankfully I don’t have to.
“It doesn’t matter. She just needs to know she’s safe. So whichever one of you fucks is around when it happens? Sit with her, keep her grounded in the moment, remind her she’s safe and that you won’t let anything happen to her. Clear?” Gabriel charges forward.
“Clear.”
“Got it.”
“No worries.”
“And someone needs to call me,” Rowdy advises.
“And me,” Gabriel insists.
“No,” I speak over their voices. “You don’t need to call anyone. I just need to know I’m safe. I’ll come down on my own.” I look between the two of them. “There’s no reason to call either of you.”
“You fucking call me or Rowdy,” Gabriel puts his hand up to stop my rebuttal, “or we’ll kick your asses. Understood?”
“Yep.”
“Got it.”
“Was gonna call you anyway.” Jonah winks at me.
Gah, protective assholes, all of them.
I leave them to get back to working out, spreading their testosterone around the room to determine who’s top dog. For all I know, they pee in the corners and on the workout equipment, marking their territory as they go.
As for me, I’m exhausted. I grab some files and my laptop from my desk, and send Cap a text letting him know I’m finishing my day at home.
I can only take so much.
My brave meter has run dry.
I’ve no doubt Rowdy and Gabriel will come looking for me again to talk. I can’t face them. The sadness in Gabriel’s face when forced to hear how fucked up I am over our father and the fact I had to share my crazy with his extended family. I probably should have quit instead of putting him through that. But, like I said, my brave tank is empty, and I need this job.
Then there’s Rowdy. He’s only grazed the surface of my damage, but now he knows the extent of my triggers, my fear of the dark like a silly five-year-old who needs her nightlight to feel safe. Not to mention the whole touch issue.
Why he can touch me when no other man, besides Gabriel, can, I don’t understand. But it’s obvious Rowdy has no intention of touching me more, or doing anything else with me unless I’m having an PTSD episode. Then he’s all in. Yay for me.
Pity-driven protectiveness I neither need nor want.
My phone buzzes on the drive home. I don’t look. No matter who it is, I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be reminded of how not normal I am.
For a few blissful minutes I just drive, and drive, and drive.
I thought I was going home.
Turns out I was going to Gabriel’s.
I hope Frankie and Ox don’t mind a visit from Auntie Crazy.
“YOU GONNA LET ME TAPE UP your hands before you bust a knuckle?” Jonah circles the punching bag, giving me a decent glare before accessing the sound system on his phone and turning down the music.
I’ve been here for an hour, no one else around, so I blared some punk rock the guys can’t stand. I’m not overly fond of it myself. I’m more of a Chris Stapleton kinda guy. But the hard, fast stuff gets me going, and I’ve got energy and aggravation to burn.
“I’m good.” I punch the bag so hard it nearly swings into him before he grabs it, but it’s the sting on my right hand that has me pulling back to find my middle knuckle split. “Fuck.”
“You assholes never listen,” he mutters under his breath. “Come on, let’s get you patched and properly geared up. Cowboy will be here soon to spar with you.”
He continues to grumble as he tends to my busted knuckle and tapes me up.
I know better. It was a stupid move. I’m… out of sorts.
Reese is avoiding me—again. I fucked up after our lunch on Friday, letting it slip I might fantasize about her and a piece of chocolate cake. Being boldly sexy with her felt so natural in the moment. Such an insensitive slip up. I was feeling it, the connection, and for a split second I forgot who she is. I can’t treat her like some chick I’ve got the hots for. She will never be just another fuck—or even a fuck.
Besides the fact she’s Gabriel’s sister, she’s been through stuff I don’t even know about but can imagine. Things so dark, I try hard not to think about.
“What’s got you stupid today?” Jonah asks like he doesn’t know. He’s the most intuitive fuck I’ve ever met.
“Nothing.”
“Well, nothing better get sorted before you blow your fight. You’ve got less than a week.”
Yeah, yeah, way to rub it in.
After a beat of silence and his haunting eyes studying me, he finally speaks, “You’re good for her. Don’t let her push you away or let your stupidity stop you from fighting for what you want.”
“Who?”
Jonah chuckles. “Gonna play it like that, huh? Okay.” He slaps my arm. “Get a drink, then get in the ring.”
As Cowboy enters from the locker room a second later, Jonah tells him, “Warm up. Rowdy will be ready in a minute.”
I slip on my Beats, hit play on “Natural” by Imagine Dragons, and bounce on my feet, shadow boxing between hydrating.
Sparring with Cowboy is what I need. The strikes he lands only center me, give me focus to dig in and fight for what I need. What I want.
It could be to love a dark-haired kitten, but at the moment, it’s to destroy the asshole across from me trying to take me down. Not happening. Cowboy, Landry, is good. I’m better.
Showered and walking the parking lot to my car, I dig my phone out of my pocket when it vibrates. I hate that I’m disappointed it’s not Reese calling, but my mom. I’m such a shit son. She’s called me twice in as many days, and I haven’t called her back. My funk is not her fault.
I chuck my bag in the back seat as I answer. “Hey, Mom. I’m sorry—”
“Finally, Cameron. I was so worried.” Mom tends to overreact. Silence means I’ve died or been kidnapped, not that I’m a bad son and forgot or chose not to call her back.
“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ve got a fight coming up next week.” I pull out of the parking lot. “I’m distracted.”
Not a good excuse for ignoring the woman who gave birth to me and always made me feel like I belonged in our family, when, in fact, I rarely felt like I fit. Square peg. Round hole. That’s me. I’m the only uncivilized one. My great-grandfather made our money from the oil fields in West Texas. We’ve since moved on to greener resources like wind turbine farms, but I’m the only one not in the business.
Business savvy is my older brother Drake’s strength, something he reminds me of at every opportunity.
I’m the dumb jock.
He’s the brilliant businessman.
Only I’m not dumb. I just don’t give a fuck. Renewable energy is crucial to humans and something I care about, but I’m not a suit-and-tie-let’s-talk-numbers kinda guy. My ability to withstand a corporate environment—even my family’s company—is not a renewable resource…
Drake and my dad can handle the business.
“Oh…” Her disappointment is evident.