My heart squeezes in my chest as I peer up at him. The tenderness in his voice causes the butterflies in my stomach to start moving around.
“The sadness you tried to hide behind your smile. Most missed it.”
“But you never did.” I give him a small smile. “It was easy to keep other people at arm’s length. Even close friends from my childhood, I pulled away from during high school. The older I got, the more and more controlling he became. Railing about staying away from boys and making sure my mother kept me on a strict schedule so I wouldn’t have much free time to get into trouble.”
“But you still managed to get into a whole lot of trouble with me.”
I laugh at the wiggle of his eyebrows. “Yeah, you were always my biggest temptation.” I lean over and pull him in for a kiss.
“Eat so that I can fill your belly with something else.”
Giggling, I cut into the pancakes, devouring them. We worked up an appetite last night.
“What’re your plans for the day?”
“I—” I pause, and my eyes widen. “Mama. I need to get home and check on her. I don’t know if she’s ever been drunk like that.” My heart begins racing, strangely.
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
I shake my head. “No, I mean, yeah, she should be, but I don’t know.”
“What is it?”
“She’s been having such a hard time since my father died. A piece of me had hoped she’d eventually come to see his death as granting her freedom in a way.” I cringe and look shame-faced at Mark. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”
He shrugs and takes a hearty bite of the strip of bacon in his hand before shaking his head. “Bastard doesn’t sound like much to grieve over to me. Does that sound harsh?” He looks at me pointedly.
Tilting my head to the side, I answer, “Yes.”
He shrugs again. “Oh well. I don’t like him, and he’s probably lucky I never got the chance to meet him while he was still breathing.”
The menacing tone his voice takes on sends a chill down my spine. Mark always had a playful, and often, even an arrogant poise about himself. When we were alone, he displayed his more loving side to me, but there were times, only a handful in which I saw his vengeful side. Like, for example, when one of our high school’s football players decided thenoI’d given him when he asked me out wasn’t a suitable answer. That guy had ended up with a fractured wrist but was too afraid to tell anyone what happened.
I’d been there and witnessed Mark put a guy who was three inches taller than him and broader, bya lot,on his butt. Literally.
“I’m grateful you never got that opportunity,” I mumble.
Glancing around his open space loft, I admire the brick walls and fireplace area. “That’d be a perfect spot for your Christmas tree. Are you planning on putting one up this year?”
He snorts. “I don’t decorate for the holidays.”
“Why no—” I stop myself from finishing, feeling like an idiot. Of course, the holidays wouldn’t bring back good memories for him. “December 23rd,” I murmur, sighing.
He nods solemnly as he takes the final bite of his pancake.
It’s the anniversary of Mark’s accident. It happened two days before Christmas, while all of us high schoolers were on break. Mark and I were supposed to hang out that night and exchange gifts. But then he got a call on his cell from one of the guys at the gym where he sometimes boxed. There was an opportunity for a fight, and this one was for money.
“I had a bad feeling about that fight,” I admit.
He sits back in his chair, looking at me, silently asking me to finish.
“I enjoyed seeing you fight. Can’t lie about that. You’re a natural in the ring. I don’t care what your dad said or who you were compared to. You have your own style. And I’ve watched a lot of fights since then.”
He grins.
I’d become an MMA fan over the years. Somehow it made me feel closer to Mark even when we were years and miles apart. It’s a sport he introduced me to.
“Even after you won against that guy. What was his name?”
