Page 12 of The Fighter

Heat licked up my neck, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger, frustration, arousal, or a combination of all three. I decided to settle on anger, and I decided to direct my anger at Nik, because he was there, and he’d forgive me for just about anything. “Watch it,” I said low in warning. Nik never asked me about men I slept with.

He also never backed down from me. If anything, he seemed to find my response alarming. His body went tight, and he squared his shoulders to face me. I recognized his expression immediately. Concern. His eyes were shards of ice. “Did he hurt you?”

My throat threatened to close. Nik would have seen Tav, not well, but enough to judge his bulk. I forced myself to unclench my fists and lower my shoulders. The last thing I needed was Nik sniffing around Tav. At least before I asked him to. I held his gaze and spoke with sincerity, “No, he didn’t, Nik. Not at all.”

Nik’s nostrils flared once. Twice. Then, in a tone that was much softer, “Did you hurthim?”

My breathing hitched, and I couldn’t look Nik in the eyes anymore. I dropped my gaze to my hands where they rested flat on my desk.

Tav’s eyes full of liquid heat. The way his body writhed under my hands. The rasp of his voice. The strain of his musclesas he fought his bindings. The need in his whimpers. The desperation with which he’d taken my cock.

Waking up to an empty bed.

Had I hurt him somehow?

“I don’t think so,” I answered Nik. “But I’m not sure.”

When he didn’t answer or move, I finally looked up. Nik’s expression was calm. “It’s okay, Conrad.”

But was it?

Two weeks later, I stood under my shower, letting the lava-hot water pelt my back to the point of pain, and I began to question whether his name really was Tav. I’d been so sure he’d been telling the truth at the time. But now I replayed that moment over and over again in my mind. The sheen in his eyes. The tightness of his muscled body.

My cock filled, and I ignored it. I’d already stroked myself too many times to count to the memory of Tav, and each time left me wrung dry but unsatisfied. I scrubbed a hand over my face and slammed my hand on the water lever. It shut off, leaving me dripping on the tile floor. My skin cooled quickly, and I stood shivering until I forced myself out of the shower. I dried off and tied the towel around my waist as I shuffled to my mirror which was fogged with steam. Swiping a hand across it, I stared at myself. I hadn’t been getting proper sleep. Blue tinged the skin below my eyes. I had to get over this. I should have been happy with what I got, and instead I could only think about how much more I wanted that I’d never have from him. With a growl, I stalked out of my bathroom and strode to my closet. I had to pull myself together. Work called. Soto needed tending to. I couldn’t mope over a man.

Three weeks later, and I almost convinced myself I imagined the whole thing. He haunted my apartment, and I began to imagine things that never even happened—showering with him, drinking coffee at my kitchen island, laughing as we watched a funny movie on the couch. I didn’t even know what his laughsoundedlike.

I searched the internet for all the names that Tav could be short for. Then I’d searched those names. Then I stopped myself before I went insane.

Four weeks later—a whole month since Tav had snuck out of my apartment—I was furious at him. At myself. At literally everyone. I snapped at Ben and Nik over little things. The former rolled his eyes at me and the latter threatened to punch me in the jaw. Part of me thought maybe that was what I needed. A hard hit to the face.

I caved and snuck into Collar on a Friday night. My gaze had immediately strayed to the corner of the bar—Tav’s corner—but instead of his hulking shadowed form, two men were huddled there, kissing and laughing. I hated them instantly.

I sat at the bar for hours with a glass of whiskey in front of me. I didn’t take a sip for a long time. What if Tav showed up? I had to be sober. But the clock kept ticking, and he never showed. By the time Nik came to retrieve me from the bar, I was plastered and pissed. Nik dumped me in my apartment unceremoniously, clearly tired of my shit.

Yeah, well I was tired too. Maybe I’d never see Tav again, but if I did, I wasn’t sure how I could keep myself from punishing him for making me this weak after one single night.

FIVE

Tav

I tried to make myself as small as possible, which had never been easy, and hunkered down into the shadows on the front stoop of an out-of-business bookstore. There was still tape on the windows, but it was mostly peeled off now, so the declaration ofBookslooked more likeEuuls.

I couldn’t count how many times I’d hid here over the years. There were a couple of crescent shapes in the caulk on the window, where my fingernails fit perfectly. Because I dug them in time and time again when I got a glimpse of my sister. It was the only thing that focused me so I didn’t shout to her.

I rounded my shoulders and pulled up the collar of my coat. My thighs trembled, because I’d just completed a workout at the gym, and I’d gone a little too hard on leg day. I blew into my hands to warm them and waited. Being alone had never bothered me much. Sometimes it was nice to blank out, not have to focus on anyone or anything. When I fought, I had to be alert every second.Face neutral, never show weakness. Hands up, protect the head. Hit hard, knock him out first.

I should have been thinking about my strategy for the fight coming up, but my mind wasn’t on blood-stained concrete floors. My mind was in Conrad’s apartment. I missed him. That was a big admission for me, those three words, but they were true. I missed his voice and his hands and the way he took care of me. The way he looked at me and the way he fucked me.

I ached to go see him with a pain that only intensified the longer I waited. It’d been over month since I walked out of his apartment on silent footsteps, and I’d felt every day, every hour, every minute of that month. I’d almost gone to that end of town just to gaze at his fancy-ass apartment building, but I’d come to my senses and stayed away.

Con was… well, he wasn’t like me. He lived a nice life with purpose. He drove a Bentley for fuck’s sake. I wouldn’t drag him down into the cesspool I was involved in. And something told me if I saw him again, he’d demand more from me. More than one syllable of my name. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him get attached to a husk.

But more than that, more than wanting to protect him, I wanted to protectme. Letting myself have what he offered, havehim, was too much. I had to remember my place. Sometimes, I forgot how shitty my life was, because I couldn’t remember it being any better. The remembering was bad. Stupid. It was going to get me killed. Or worse, it was going to ruin the entire reason I was doing this.

A familiar joy-filled shriek pierced the cold air, and just like that, my focus narrowed to my reason.

Amara had cut her hair. Last time I saw her, her dark hair had hung down to the middle of her back, but now it brushed her shoulders as she walked out of the front doors of the studio. At her side was her son, Holden. He was four now. He wore a black gi with a white belt tied tightly around his small waist, and a long puffy coat hung down to his knees. I’d spied on one of his jiu jitsuclasses one time, something I rarely dared to do in case Amara ever saw me. And he was good. Tough. And he smiled the entire time.