“Please,” I whisper. “Just… You don’t have to keep it on, or even keep it if you don’t want to, but I want you to have it. I knowthe meaning… The reason why I had it was not a happy one, but with you, I found a happy place. My new favorite. The one place, the one person, who wanted me to stay.” It fucking hurts to say that and know that I’m going to be ripped away.
Ty lets me tie it onto his wrist and I add an extra knot. Just to be annoying if he decides to take it off. Give the guy extra time to think if he really wants to do that.
From the way he’s looking–face downturned, jaw clenched and chest heaving as his eyes screw shut for just a moment–he understands. Asher comes up behind him, looking sad for his friend and ready to hold him back if he needs to.
“I have to go,” I sigh shakily.
“I wish you didn’t.” He cups my cheek, his thumb running over my cheekbone gently and presses a kiss to my lips.You can have two seconds, Roxie. Two and then you have to go.
One.I don’t want this to end.
Two.It never really got a chance to begin.
I pull myself back with an intake of breath, the kind you hear right before a sob, and I turn on my heel. I can’t look back.
I know that if I do, I might not recover.
CHAPTER 8
SIX YEARS LATER
21 years old
“Get him!”I hear my 19-year-old brother, Mario, scream over the crowd, urging me to take down the giant fucking mammoth of a man in front of me. There’s screaming around me; cheers and heckles, but nothing I’m not used to by now.
Fuck, I’ve been doing this for so long I barely even register the noises anymore.
I’m straining to see through the blood dripping out of my eyes. It’s been a close fucking fight.
Too close.
The cut on my forehead must be worse than I thought because along with my vision waning, the world is taking on a reddish tint. I knew the last punch from this fucker was toomuch. The world is spinning, my hearing is going, my vision is doubling.
Fuck, I wish Asher was here.
That meaty paw did some damage. I know I don’t have a lot of time left. I can’t breathe, my head is killing me, my heart is beating too quickly. Something is really wrong this time.
I’m swaying, I’m sure of it, but before I go down, I’m taking this fucker with me. I’m already aching; nursing some broken ribs, a few broken fingers and a broken nose. My opponent reaches out to get me–probably thinking that I’m as good as KO’ed–but I take his arm and kick his forearm away before it can reach me. There’s a satisfying crack as he screams, holding the limp appendage. He staggers back, and I take a steadying breath. I don’t have much longer.
I look at my cousin Ricardo, and watch Mario. They’re both screaming at me, barely, but I can’t hear them. Ricardo’s pointing aggressively and I turn just in time to see the mammoth of a guy charge at me.
I have one shot.
Lurching forward, I land a blow to the side of this guy’s head. He stumbles back as the crowd cheers, the ring of people around us getting bigger when they realize one of us is about to go down.
And it’s not going to be me.
I charge on the guy, punching him over and over until his head lulls back and his body drops.
Knock-out.
Fucker was bigger than I’ve ever fought before. Mario had said a bigger weight class would pay more as the bets would be against me, but fuck. I didn’t think I’d get my ass handed to me quite this hard. I try to catch my breath, the adrenaline wearing off very fucking quickly.Fuck.
Everything is quiet as my opponent, well-named as The Fist, lays there in the dirt. Like everyone is waiting on bated breath to see if he’ll get up.
I’m swaying on my feet, but still standing. Desperately trying to catch my breath, it feels like time slows down. The lights flicker, the gruff sounds around me fall away and it’s like I’m in a dream.
What is it?
