Deeks studied me in that careful, appraising way of his, both of his hands landing on the gas tank of his bike as his gaze shifted to the place I knew I would find Drew beating the shit out of the punching bag. He sighed in resignation and rubbed his face.
“I know you’re going to go in there and talk to him, but put that fucking gun in the bag and let me take the damn thing to your room for you. You go in with that shit strapped to your hip, and he’s gonna go apocalyptic.”
“So you agree with him?” I asked, tugging my shirt up enough to reach the buckle and loosen it.
“I think when you arm yourself, you’re telling the world you’re looking for a fight.”
“That’s not—”
“I know it ain’t, Ayda, but not everyone thinks like youdo, kid. There’re people in this world who will see that damn gun and think you have it because you have something worth protecting in your pockets. For Drew…” He tapered off, his head shaking before he held out for the bag. “That ain’t my business. That’s between the two of you.”
I loved Deeks. I had from the moment I met him, but I didn’t regret the way I pushed that bag into his open arms after I’d dropped my gun inside. He of all people should have known why I needed that gun. He of all people should have had my back. I’d been to Autumn’s home and seen the armory they had there, probably for the very same reason I had my gun. They were all hypocrites, and not one of them was going to convince me that I was wrong. Today was a perfect example of that. That random phantom feeling had me spooked, and the only thing that had given me enough balls to start that long walk home was knowing I was protected
“All I’m saying is, you carry a gun, you damn sure better use it when that time comes.” Deeks swung his leg over his bike and hoisted my backpack over his shoulder. “And you better hope to God that it’s warranted. You ending up in prison will destroy that man in there.”
“That’s not my endgame, Deeks.”
“I know it ain’t. Now go before we have to spring for another damn bag.”
I nodded and pulled in another deep breath. The bag comment didn’t leave me with much confidence that I would find Drew cooled off and ready to talk, but a conversation needed to happen and putting it off would only make matters worse.
I crossed the yard quickly, texting Rusty to tell him that I was back, before I slipped inside as quietly as I could, pressingmy back to the wall closest to the door as I watched Drew work. He was pissed; I could see that in the taut, twitching muscles that were already covered in sweat. His handsome face was contorted in rage as he swung and kicked, and the skull and hounds on his inked skin almost came to life as he worked, both animals glaring at me with feral rage. It was hypnotic, left, right, grunt, kick, left, right… The longer I let myself stand there, the more violent he became, and I knew I had to talk to him sooner rather than later. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being upset with me anymore.
“Drew?” I said quietly.
There was no response, no break in his rhythm. He hadn’t heard me. I stepped from the shadows and toward him, slipping down onto a weight bench behind him as I built up the courage for one more attempt.
“Drew.”
Chapter Seven
DREW
Minutes turned into hours apparently. The room grew darker, a muted light flickering through enough to light up the target in front of me. Every hit I made, every swing, hook, jab, and kick made me feel that little bit freer. I’d almost forgotten what had driven me there… until I heard my name fall from her lips, cutting through the war in my mind enough to bring me back to the present.
I hit the bag with one last, fatal punch, watching as it swung out before flying back to me with a challenge, letting me know it wasn’t done. I wasn’t done. I stopped it with my thigh; my hands still high as I kept my back to her and pulled in angry, violent, dirty breaths.
I could hear her shuffling on the weights bench behind me as she fidgeted. She took in a deep breath, and then another, and another, until she whispered two words.
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry. She was sorry. It seemed so easy, didn’t it? Two words that should have been able to make me turn on the spot, strap a smile on my face, and tell her all was forgiven. Except I wasn’t that man. I never had been. I’d been born into a family where loyalty was our religion, where lies weredealt with in a fight, and where losing trust in someone meant making them the enemy.
Only this was Ayda.
She wasn’t my enemy. She never would be. As long as I had breath burning in my lungs, I’d fight to protect her, to save her and make her happy. I’d die for her a thousand times, each occasion getting more bloody and brutal if that was what it took to keep her safe.
Yet, I couldn’t take her apology. I couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal as I stood there with sweat pouring down over my eyes, down my spine, and my knuckles throbbing from the fight I’d had with myself
I swallowed harshly as my breaths sawed in and out, in and out, taunting me with their reminder that I wasn’t in control.
I jabbed the bag one more time, but I was too soft and it wasn’t enough, so I did it again. Harder that time, more frustration bleeding out through my muscles as I began to hate the way her apology made me feel.
Ayda didn’t make any kind of move. She sat quietly, waiting, her breaths coming deep and trembling on the exhale.
I began to move harder and faster, my feet bouncing back and forth with every new challenge the bag set me. I was like a raging bull, everything flaring and charging as I hit and swung like never before. The tension wasn’t leaving. It was fucking building… climbing higher, higher, impossibly fucking high until I wanted to turn around and roar in her face with all the anger she’d made me feel.
In the end, I stopped all at once, catching the bag in both hands and dropping my head to it as I let my mouth fall open.
