Page 91 of The Fighter

I could end this. I’d done it before, and while it would mark my soul, Con would get me through it. I knew he could?—

He shook his head. “No.” His fingers fluttered over my cheek, and a soft, sad smile curled his swollen, bruised lips. “I’ll do it.”

He turned, and my efforts to follow were thwarted by Nik, who had a death grip on my arm. I turned to him with a snarl. I could take him on. It would hurt for both of us, but I could.

He showed no emotion as he stared me down. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Devlin’s voice drew me. He’d curled into a ball, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach, the other clawing at the floor. “Just do it, Conrad.” His voice was garbled, probably from his broken face and loose teeth, but the defeat in his tone… I’d never heard Devlin speak like that. “Just end it already.”

“Is that what you want?” Con said softly, the gun still held loosely at his side. “You want me to kill you?”

“It’s already over,” Devlin spat on the floor and turned half a good eye to Conrad above him. “Right?”

“You’re right. Everything you have is gone. The last of your men are dead or defected.”

“I don’t care about that.” Devlin shifted, his hand scrabbling the floor until he managed to latch onto one of Con’s bare ankles. “You were never who I thought you could be. So it doesn’t matter now. None of it ever did.”

He was broken. Pathetic. I never in my life thought I’d see Devlin brought this low. No matter what I’d thought of him, he was always full of life. Drive. Purpose. And now he was like an empty shell, and I didn’t think it was because of my fists.

Conrad stepped out of his grip, and Devlin’s hand smacked the concrete. He groaned and wheezed as he rolled his dirty face into the floor.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Conrad said, and I was surprised at how much those words relieved me. “My men will drive you out of the city and to a hospital. You’ll get treatment, and then you’ll leave the state. You will never return. I have eyes everywhere, Devlin, and if I see your face, I’ll kill you. This is not mercy. This is a warning. I want you to live like this, empty and aching. That’s a better punishment than a bullet between the eyes.”

The howl that tore from Devlin’s throat echoed in the dank space, full of pain and torment that made me clench my jaw. Conrad’s body jerked, but he stepped back just as a few of his men clambered down the stairs. They picked up Devlin’s body, but only then did he fall silent, body limp. Maybe he passed out, or maybe he’d gone catatonic. I didn’t look at him as they carried him away. I never wanted to look at him again.

Conrad dropped the gun, and it clattered to the ground. He turned and took one stumbling step toward me. Another. “Tav,” he whispered.

I surged forward, arms out, and caught him before he could hit the floor.

Conrad

Hands touched me. Reverent. Soft. In the far distance, too far to belong to the ones that touched me, a female voice was speaking. “…if he runs a fever, call me immediately. The wounds need checked frequently for signs of infection...”

A deep voice answered her, and then they grew more distant until they couldn’t be heard. Not from here, in whatever room I was in. I lay on a familiar softness, and the blankets beneath my hands were my own. I smelled home, and even though I couldn’t seem to open my eyes just yet, I knew I was in my bedroom. There was a buzzing sound near me that I couldn’t solidify or grasp onto just yet.

I felt floaty. Not in my body. My skin was loose. I sought to fight through the haze. This was why I didn’t drink a lot or do drugs. I hated not knowing what was going on.

The hands were still touching me, and so was something else, something soft, that drifted from my hair down my temples to the corners of each eye. Kisses. Soft, barely there kisses.

And then I realized the buzzing was a voice, just a murmur. “…you’ll be okay. She said so, and although she’s an orgasm tyrant, she’s right. You only hire the best, Con. So you just have to sleep, and your body will heal. She made sure to mention you’ll take longer than I did, since you’re older, which I thought was a low blow while you were still unconscious.”

Tav kept talking, sometimes speaking full sentences and other times nonsense as his lips traveled over my face. The skin was tight, and a little hot. So sore. But each kiss seemed to soothe the sharpest of pains. I tried to move my lips, or open my eyes, or even twitch a finger, but the floaty feeling was too powerful, and the cloud descended until I went back under.

I clawed my way through the cloudy haze again to the dull buzz of what sounded like the TV. Fingers combed through my hair as my eyes remained too heavy to open. The bed shook as Tav laughed. “So every day, she wakes up and doesn’t remember him. So he has to work all day to get her through all the memories. Only to do it all over again the next day. Damn. That’s love, Con.” His fingers stilled for a minute. “I think you’d do that for me. I’d do it for you. If you wake up and don’t remember me, I’d get you to want me again. Every day.”

Had he spoken to me the entire time I was unconscious? Lips touched the side of my head. “I just heard the dryer beep. Gonna go get the laundry and be right back. I’ll pause the movie so we don’t miss anything.”

His weight left the bed, and I could hear his padded footsteps leave the bedroom to head toward the laundry room.

I finally peeled my eyes open, although only one obeyed. The other stayed stubbornly shut, and I decided not to worry about it for now. The lights were dim in the room, just a table lamp and the moonlight. How long had I been out?

Footsteps returned, and Tav dropped something on the floor with a loud thud. He sank down on the edge of the bed, not yet noticing my state of wakefulness. Probably didn’t help I could only open one eye. I tried to say his name, but only air came out as he bent down, picked up a towel and began to fold it. Of course, he folded it like an insane person, starting with lengthwise. Then he seemed to do a combination of rolling and folding before plopping it down on the bed in what seemed like a rumpled bundle. He stared at it for a minute before shrugging and picking up another towel.

Fuck, he was infuriatingly endearing.

I tried again, and this time a semblance of sound came out. “Tav.”

He jerked, nearly toppling off the bed before whirling around, two-toned eyes blinking owlishly. “Holy shit,” he whispered before scrambling up the bed to my side. The mattress jolted, and pain streaked up my side. I gasped, and he went very still, on all fours with one hand still in the air. Guilt streaked his features. “Shit, sorry.”