Ivy considered herself a strong runner. She had stamina and kept a decent pace. For the last three years, she’d trained her body relentlessly so she could outrun anyone. So she’d never be caught and held down again. But this run, with Sean, nearly killed her.
By the time they arrived back at their apartments, she was dripping sweat and her legs shook like wet noodles. She clung to the handle of her door, mostly because it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Taking her keys from her shaky fingers, Sean took the liberty of opening the door for her, and for a moment, she had a flashback to not so long ago when he’d done the same thing. A flashback that included her legs wrapped around him and his tongue in her mouth. Except this time when he nudged the door open, he ushered her through, his expression was undecipherable.
“Shower and bed, Ivy.” His voice was low as he gazed down at her with eyes so dark they were nearly black.
The heat from his body poured over her, stilling the shiver that had started to wrack her limbs as sweat cooled on her skin. Her internal Sean magnet tugged from deep within, dragging her a step closer to his heat.
His name fell from her lips, a whisper so quiet she wasn’t sure it came out as a word or a breath. What she did know was that she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be alone. Their eyes held for another impenetrable moment, and Sean’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something too. But whatever he might have said died when he shut his mouth, took her by the shoulders, and gently but firmly maneuvered her farther into her apartment.
“Shower, bed.” He stepped away, into the hallway. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll wait until I hear it.” He then shut the door to her own apartment in her face.
After she flipped the lock, she immediately plastered herself to the peephole, and her heart plummeted as she watched him enter his own apartment without a backward glance.
Turning her back to the door, she slid down it, hugged her knees to her chest, and dropped her face onto them as she tried to breathe her way through the moment. The moment where Sean had abandoned her to her memories, heartache, and past.
CHAPTEREIGHT
The next morning, Sean’s fist hit the tight leather of the punching bag with a force that reverberated through his knuckles and straight up his forearms. He followed up with a powerful side kick and let a grunt escape through his clenched teeth. He’d arrived early that morning, more than an hour before the gym opened, but had since lost track of time. Eventually, he heard the sounds of the gym coming to life around him. A speed bag being pummeled, the clang of weights, the whir of spin cycles, the grunts and smacks of fists hitting flesh in the ring.
At some point during his vendetta with the bag, the gym had officially opened, but to him it was all background noise. Turned out, the run he’d forced Ivy to go on last night hadn’t done much to cool his jets or ease the knot sitting low in his gut. Added to that, memories of last night kept repeating in his head, like a scratched record stuck playing a song he fucking hated.
He didn’t regret sending Greg Lewis off the way he had. He was a player who had no business putting his hands on Ivy, and Sean was going to make sure date night didn’t happen again. He didn’t care if that put him in the Neanderthal category. It was what it was.
Sean was lost in the abyss of regretting everything that happened after that. He never should have kissed her, should have exercised more self-control. But he had kissed her, and as soon as his lips touched hers, he’d gone up in flames. His blood still burned with the knowledge that he’d been ready to take her right then and there if she hadn’t frozen under him like a trapped animal freezes under its predator.
He’d lost her in that moment. He’d been so adrift in the frenzy of his own lust and desire, he’d missed all her cues, until she’d turned to stone under him. It was his worst nightmare come true. And apparently hers as well.
Goddammit.
His fist connected with the bag as the expletive rang through his head. He’d known it, hadn’t he? All these years, he’d known something had happened to her. He hadn’t needed her to tell him. He’d told himself he didn’t have to hear her say it, but if he had any uncertainty before, he sure as hell didn’t have any now. Ivy had been hurt. Christ only knew how bad, but the thought that Sean had made her relive even a second of it had self-loathing coursing through his veins with a ferocity that burned him from the inside out.
Leaving her in her apartment after their run, when all he wanted to do was hover close by to make sure she was alright, had been harder than he could have ever predicted. He’d forced himself back to his apartment, showered, then lay in bed staring at the ceiling, every possible scenario of what might have happened to her spinning in his head until the dawn’s light started to seep through his window blinds.
He’d grown up around all kinds of violence. His parents had tried to make life as normal as possible for his brother and him, but there were things they simply couldn’t protect their children from while trying to raise a family in a low-income neighborhood in inner city Chicago. When his dad had been alive, they’d lived in a small, rented house in an area that had been decent during the daytime, but sketchy enough after dark that his parents hadn’t let him and his brother out. After his dad died, everything changed. They’d had to move to a rougher part of town, where rent was cheaper. His mother had worked two jobs to make ends meet. If his father had thought their first neighborhood was a shithole, he would have rolled in his grave at the one they ended up in.
The sounds of sirens, glass shattering, people screaming and cursing, and the not infrequent pops of gunfire were the soundtrack of his youth. Though he grew up in a peaceful home, violence had surrounded his upbringing. It existed, like a living, breathing thing, circling him. And as such, he was always braced for it. He never looked for a fight, but he was always ready for one.
And Lord knew he’d tried to avoid it. For years he avoided the needless street fights, running from the gangs, engaging with people who tried to goad him into a fight over petty shit. But when his mom had gotten sick, the rug had been pulled out, and for a brief moment he’d found himself wrapped up in a world his parents had tried so hard to protect him from.
Mostly, he’d trained himself not to think about that time. He’d rebuilt himself, and now, instead of watching people be destroyed by violence, he’d made it his mission to show them how to use that strength and power to build themselves back up or never get beaten down in the first place. How to fight with control, purpose, discipline, and not rage, desperation, or power trips.
Nothing good came from that kind of violence. All it left was a trail of devastation. He’d seen too many hollow eyes and haunted faces back in Chicago. Seen it in his brother’s eyes countless times, as well as in Ivy’s the first day they met.
Supporting her training, helping her become strong and resilient, watching the hollowness recede bit by bit, he wanted to believe he’d been a positive part of her journey. But last night his own lack of self-control had put that look back into her eyes, and he hated himself for that.
Then, as if his past had caught wind of last night, he’d received a text from his brother that morning, reminding him that his self-loathing had layers.
He punched the bag again, and this time, two hands caught it on the other side, stilling the back swing. His best friend’s face appeared around the side of the bag, his brow furrowed with concern.
Sean dropped his arms to his sides, breathing heavily. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded, knowing he had no reason to sound so harsh, but needing an outlet for all the rage that was still swirling inside him.
Gabe cocked an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to be the grumpy one, remember?” He pointed to himself. “I’m the asshole,” he said slowly, as if he were teaching a lesson. Then he pointed at Sean and said, “You’re the chill one.”
Sean grunted a humorless laugh. “Not today, I guess.”
“You wanna go a round in the ring?” Gabe asked casually, which Sean guessed was about as close as he’d get to outright asking what was wrong.
