Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(113)
“Was that about the fight?” she asks, her voice hoarse and quiet.
I press my head into the back of hers and breathe her in. “Yes,” I say. I feel her nod against me, then eventually her hands find my arms and she pulls them around her tightly.
“When?” she asks, pulling my palm up to her chest, pressing it flat against her heart. It’s beating so hard I can almost feel it working in and out.
“Six,” I say. “But I need to leave in a couple hours to get ready.”
She nods again, and her body quivers lightly. I know she’s crying, but I also know she’s trying to hide it from me. I let her think she has, and I run my thumbs over her knuckles as our hands caress each other.
“Hold me…like this…until you go?” Her voice is a whisper now.
“Okay,” I say, snuggling into her more before pulling the blanket over us. I stroke her skin and hair until I can tell she’s calm. She isn’t asleep—she’s too afraid of missing something. It takes me back to Lake Crest when I never let myself completely lose sense of where I was and what was happening around me. I learned early on that sleeping left me vulnerable—it’s when others took advantage and stole away anything I had.
Nobody would be stealing anything from us today—not Emma’s father, my history, or the ghosts of my past. I’d make sure of it. This small moment—it’s Emma’s and mine. And soon, when I’m about to face the sorry excuse for a man who marred her perfect face, I’ll make sure he can’t rob us of anything either.
* * *
Leaving her felt impossible. Emma has a paper due, so she buried herself in my bed, surrounded by books and her laptop. She played aloof as I packed my bag and left, as if it were just me getting ready to leave for practice, or class, or work. But her eyes were empty, and I know her thoughts were on where I’m really going.
I kissed her and promised her I’d call as soon as I was on my way back. She smiled, barely, nodding and pushing her ear buds in, her music turned so loud that I could hear it clearly on my end. I let her front. I know she needs this.
She never asked to come, which is good because I don’t want to have to argue with her. I can’t have her near him. I gave Trent orders to keep her home, too. He laughed at me at first, but quit when he took in my face—an understanding of how serious this is settling onto him.
I almost told Trent the truth—just so he would be able to stay calm, to do whatever he needed to do to keep her calm. But I stopped myself, still not one-hundred-percent committed to my midnight-hatched plan. I almost backed out at the bank when I withdrew every cent I had. I’m still not convinced I’ll be able to follow through with it now as I step through the back door of Harley’s gym—the street lined with expensive cars and the main warehouse filled with gambling men ready to spend their money on two twenty-something punk shits beating each other senseless for no title or ring.
I guess for some there’s glory. For most of the guys I’ve fought, the prize has always been knowing they’re ready for what’s next, a gift of confidence as they head into the ring with someone real—someone who mattered. But today—there’s not glory. There’s grudge and hate and vengeance between two sick men. I’m well enough to admit I’m sick, to admit I like the feel of pain more than I should. I know the way I cope with what really hurts in my life is unhealthy. But now that I know how Emma feels, what it’s like to have her completely fill the space inside my chest and heart, I’m not hungry for something to take me away anymore.
When life is good, I don’t need the distraction of the rush. I’ve just never had good before, I guess.
Harley is still in his back office when I walk through the heavy metal door. It slams shut behind me, and Bill steps out from the office to see who’s entering.
“Just me,” I say, holding up a hand. He nods, then reaches his hand out to shake mine. His eyes glance around my body and his brow furrows when he realizes I don’t have my usual training bag with me. All I have is a small envelope—nothing more. I nod and pat him on the back as I pass by, slipping into Harley’s office.
“You’re early. What, can’t wait for that fix and need Bill to knock you in the head a few times now?” He snickers as he talks, amused at how predictable I am. Normally, he’d be right. But not today.
I plunk the heavy envelope on his desk then shove my hands in my pockets, staring at it, staring at him staring at it. He pokes it with a pen, turning it slightly, then tapping it.
“What’s this?” he says, peering up at me, his hat turned backward so I can see the angry suspicion in his eyes.
“It’s every cent I have to my name. Something like twenty-seven hundred. And I know I’ll probably owe you more, and I’ll get it to you, because I didn’t want this to be a problem for you, to cost you anything,” I say, my eyes meeting his. There’s nothing Harley can do to me. I quit being afraid of people the day I stepped out of Lake Crest Academy.
He leans back in his chair, pulling the envelope in his hands and slicing it open on one end to look in at the small stack of money. He tosses it back on his desk, and folds his arms again, studying.
“What the f*ck are you talking about?”
“I’m out, Harley,” I say. I hear Bill chuckle softly behind me, and I glance at him, shaking my head. “No, I’m serious. I mean it. I’m out. I’m sorry, but I’m not fighting this guy today. I’m done fighting.”