Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(77)
“Do you think Tommy’s name got thrown around?” Rowan asked then, after falling contemplatively silent for a moment.
“I know it did. Why else would he tell me not to watch it? He doesn’t want it to upset me. He says it was very ugly and it’s only going to get worse.”
“Come over, then, and we’ll watch it together.”
“Rowan, you don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do this. I want to move on. There’s no way to do that if we keep scratching open wounds. And he . . . he isn’t helping. He knew this would happen. He’s making us hear about it all over again, and I refuse.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll do it your way.”
More days passed. Savannah worked endlessly, taking on after-hours clients until her hands ached. Spending as much time as she could with her friends and family. Most nights she found herself tossing and turning, hugging Oscar the Ninth and begging herself not to watch the press conference. It would be a double shot of agony—seeing Mike, hearing the death of her brother dragged into the public arena and harped on again. All Mike’s fault for not waiting longer before he took a fight.
Would it make any difference, though? That tragedy would follow him for the rest of his life too. It might not matter if he waited three months or three years to fight again; he would always be the guy who delivered the punch that killed Tommy Dugas. Savannah was locked in this miserable cycle with Mike whether she wanted to be or not, but of the two of them, only she had the luxury to turn her face away, to avoid it, to not see it and continue on living her life.
He would have to face it day after day from now on.
Savannah was in the middle of a hot stone alignment when clarity finally came: she had to see what was happening. Even if she wasn’t with him, he shouldn’t have to suffer it all alone.
For someone who’d always considered herself strong, when had she become so weak?
“Okay,” she muttered to herself later that night, settling in bed with her laptop. She’d decided not to call Rowan until she saw what they were dealing with, but she almost wished she were here. Navigating to YouTube, she searched for the AF Mayhem press conference and clicked on the one that was held when Mike was added to the card, biting her lip as it began to load.
God, he looked gorgeous, but she’d known he would. Dressed almost exactly like he had been when he took her out to dinner before that explosive night at his apartment, he was so dangerously sexy she had to squeeze her thighs together. Her mind and heart weren’t the only parts of her that missed him. To think that man had f*cked her in this very bed a little over a week ago.
Actually, no, she didn’t want to think about that. As hot and precious as those memories were, they drove a knife through her chest.
She sighed in relief to see how welcoming the crowd was for him; if he’d had to endure hate being flung at him at every turn, it would make everything so much harder. He had a loyal following, and they obviously had not deserted him. The gratefulness showed on his face, and she wanted to reach through and hug him.
Frank Meyers was as cocky as she remembered from the fights she’d watched. He didn’t get nearly as much support from the crowd, she saw, and the way he showed that belt off made her grit her teeth.
Then she sat in absolute horror watching the way things unfolded.
“ . . . you killed him. You killed him. You killed him.” Meyers was yelling, pandemonium was erupting, and Mike was shooting to his feet.
“Oh, baby,” she murmured, putting a fist to her lips and fighting tears at the look on his face. He was putting on a tough front, but every time Meyers said it, she practically could see Mike take a blow inside. Everything devolved into shouting, but she still caught some of the words being exchanged.
“Everyone knows it was an accident, Frank. You know it too.”
“Tell it to his family that’s left behind.”
“I did, *.”
“You know I hear his wife is pregnant? I bet they can’t wait to see you bleeding on the mat and I’m going to see to it that it happens. You’ll see. You’ll see!”
“How dare you, you piece of shit?” Savannah exclaimed out loud, slamming the laptop shut. She couldn’t hear any more. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she was slipping on her flip-flops, grabbing her purse, and running for the front door with her car keys in her hand, leaving the laptop on her bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rowan was still awake; her lights were on. Savannah hadn’t even bothered to text her that she was coming. Getting her front door pounded on at night was probably scary as hell for a woman who lived alone, but Rowan snatched the door open nonetheless.
“You’ve got to see this,” Savannah said without greeting or preamble, plowing into the house.
“What?” Rowan asked excitedly, shoving the door closed and following her.
“It will hurt. Hell, it hurt me. But more than that, I’m f*cking pissed.”
She could have pulled it up on her phone, but that screen wasn’t big enough to show the sheer magnitude of the f*ckery she’d just witnessed. Rowan had a small home office off the living room; Savannah veered in there. The PC was on, so she dropped into the desk chair and surfed to the press conference.
Rowan stood in silence behind her as it began, as the introductions and opening comments were made . . . Savannah skipped forward a bit until the first two questions were being answered. She wasn’t looking at Rowan, but she heard her sharp intake of breath as Meyers began his tirade. But then he mentioned her pregnancy.