Soul damned.
Charred black.
I’m pretty confident Chance wants to beat my ass himself right about now. I’m one-hundred percent certain I’d let him.
I’d deserve it. Deserve a lot more. There’s no doubt in my mind the anger he brought in with him, one he has a right to have will have my skull pounding worse than it does until I drink to numb my brain.
It seems to be my fuel of choice, drinking until I pass the hell out and forget.
“Wrong. You know you are. The Mason I know would have said, the biggest mistake was not telling my wife. He would have said you are right, Chance. I did cheat on my wife. That’s where part of the problem lies. I’d say that is the foundation of the problem. You went to another woman. One your wife doesn’t like, that’s no hidden secret between the four of us. Natalie might have helped with your career; she isn’t helping with your marriage. She, along with you, are destroying it, Mate.” There’s a flow of anger in his tone — the man trying to stay calm.
Hearing him repeatedly say I emotionally cheated heats my blood.
“Natalie isn’t the problem. I went to her.”
“That might be so, but she needs to go. You lied to your wife, man. It wasn’t just a white lie, it was intentional. You can’t convince me otherwise. Sit there and chew on what the two of you have done to Eden. Sit there and think of all the goddamn times that bitch called and no matter what you were doing, you stopped to talk to her. I’ll guarantee once you get your head straight, it’ll put a sour taste in your mouth. Then once it soaks in, you tell me if you wouldn’t feel betrayed and cheated on if you walked in your wife's’ shoes. Have you spoken with Natalie lately?”
He might as well have punched me in the gut with the way he spat those truthful words out.
“No, I haven’t spoken to her.” I’ve ignored Natalie’s phone calls, texts all the while grateful she’s out of town tending to another client while I fuck my life up even more.
“Probably a good thing then,” he pauses, cocks his head to the side, pinning me with another glare. He’s holding out on something from me when it comes to Natalie. I can see it in his eyes. Whatever it is, he’ll keep it to himself. It makes me curious as hell what he knows about her that I don’t. “Man, you are so committing marriage suicide; it ain’t even funny. Tack that onto you wanting to kill yourself by sparring and your halfway there.”
I turn my head away from him, slump backward, not able to deny one word he said.
My brain suddenly shoots back to the summer before my last concussion, why that particular instance pops up beats the hell out of me.
One afternoon, we were hanging out on the beach. Chance and I had been playing soccer and football with CJ while the ladies built sandcastles with Bree.
Once Aubrey and Eden each put the kids to bed in one of our spare bedrooms, which we did quite often. We love waking up to the kids, as well as it gave Chance and Aubrey a night to themselves. That particular night, Eden and Aubrey let loose and got drunk. I’d told Eden, jokingly, that Chance was taking the kids home this time because I had intentions of taking advantage of her drunk. Of course, it was all in fun.
Our fun went to shit the second my phone rang, and I answered it when I saw it was Natalie. The second I did, Eden began to rant to the two of them. We all knew how she felt about Natalie, she wasn’t a common topic, but Eden became overly pissed that night. I ignored her rant, blaming it on the alcohol and stepped inside our place to talk.
Come to think of it, Chance is right, I did that a lot. Time and time again, when Eden would ask me what Natalie wanted, I tossed her name around using the phrase, Natalie said.
Fucking hell. It wouldn’t matter if Natalie was a Nick, in definition to emotional, I cheated on my wife.
“You better sit back and take a look at the big picture here. You could lose your wife over what you’ve done. I get why you’d trust Natalie; she’s been with you for a long time, but if you want to save your marriage, you need to cut ties with her, Mason. If Natalie doesn’t understand than then tough shit.”
In frustration, he shakes his head again, glances at the bottle of whiskey on the table, and lifts a brow.
“You turned to that for answers, and you’ll be getting divorced for sure or, it’ll place you in a body bag; if it doesn’t, I’ll bloody kill you myself.”
“Yeah, well. I needed a few drinks the other night.” I lie. “I’d love to suck the entire bottle down. I couldn’t get myself to do it, the same as I couldn’t come to you. I didn’t want to drag you in the middle. I still don’t.” If he only knew, I’d have most of the bottle gone by now if he hadn’t shown.
“Might be so. That’s not the reason you went to Natalie, though, is it? You went to her because she’d eventually get you what you wanted. Besides, it’s a little too late to worry about us being in the middle, don’t you think?” His brows shoot up, eyes narrow and guarded.
Shame blows right through me. Those repercussions I didn’t think about drip more poison into my veins. It won’t be long until the damn things burst wide open, and bleed me to the bone.
“Yes. I appreciate you not wanting to nail me to the cross because of it.”
“I want to do more than nail you to the cross; I want to pry those eyelids of yours open so you can take a better look at how you are messing up your life. I’m not a crucifying kind of guy anymore. Not when you are doing a mighty fine job of it on your own. I guess you aren’t on your own are you? You have your agent who has marbles for a Goddamn brain. How stupid can she be to not only help a man who shouldn’t be boxing, but by going along with not telling his wife? That sounds like greed to me.”
“Natalie is greedy; it’s one of the many reasons why we get along. No matter what line of celebrity status you are, if you don’t have a greedy agent, you won’t get far.”
“Right then, defend her all you want if you need to get farther. See where you end up. You’ll be without your wife that’s for damn sure.”
Jesus Christ. This conversation is going south.
Chance doesn’t stop, he just keeps right on, getting closer to the jugular with every word.
“You're like a brother to me, Mason; I care about you, I care about Eden. You might be walking a tight-rope right now. More than likely thinking once I walk out the door, I won’t look back. You couldn’t be more wrong. I might be slightly pissed, it doesn’t stop me from caring. You want to spill some of your burden in my lap, then spill. You want a friend who will help you, then call me anytime day or night. You don’t, then don’t. Either way, I’m here for you.” I nod — trepidation spinning on its axis. I bite it back, knowing this is Chance — a man who is like a brother to me too.
I don’t want to talk about boxing. It’ll lead us to talk about denial, then divorce — the double D’s. Add in dread and desperation and I’m being ambushed on all sides. Little bastards are caging me in.
I hesitate for a second deciding where to start. The beginning is my only choice.
“I wanted to tell Eden, Christ; you have to know I did. Every day has been a struggle. I tried, Chance. Fuck, have I tried to get rid of the itch. It’s under my skin, and no matter how hard I try to scratch it by getting in the ring, it won’t go away. When Natalie told me about this idea, it was like everything felt right again inside of me. I convinced myself I could do it. All these thoughts rolled around in my head. It felt like it was my opportunity, and I wanted to grab it by the horns. I still want it. If you expect me to admit I’m in denial over it, you won’t get that confession out of me.”