Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(63)

Power. It was a beautiful thing to take back one’s own power.


*

“WHAT made you decide to come over?” Graham combed through Kara’s hair with his fingers, watching as the silky red and gold strands flowed between them like water.

She’d jumped back in the shower with him after their romp on the couch. He’d been sticky with sweat, and after he’d just gotten clean, he’d needed to start over. She’d volunteered to join him. He wasn’t about to argue.

Now she lay with him, naked but for the sheet that covered her in the cool bedroom. Her makeup was long gone, but her hair was dry, thanks to piling it on top of her head in the steamy shower. It fanned across her pillow—and he thought of it as hers, officially, now—to create a beautiful auburn backdrop to the woman he loved.

“I just . . . I felt good, and I wanted to share it with someone.” Her smile was soft, as were her eyes. “You know that feeling? When you’ve got so much hope, so much positivity in you, and you can’t sit still another second, because it’s wrong not to let others in on that sort of thing?”

He kissed her forehead. “Sort of. Hearing you explain it is fun though. What’s the good news?”

“Not yet.” Mouth firm, she shook her head. “Let’s get you through the All Military games first, and then when you get back, we can lay it all out on the table.”

“I wish you were coming,” he said, and regretted it instantly. Her face fell, and her eyes started to shine with unshed tears. “I understand though,” he added quickly. “I do. I’m not mad. Just . . . you know. You’re important to me. Zach, too, but of course I get why he can’t come.”

“We’re a set.” The words were quiet. “That’s just how it is, for now.”

The fact that she’d mentioned sharing positive news with him after the All Military games gave him hope she would be open to the next bit he was going to share with her. “I want to tell you something. And the reason I’m telling you is because I don’t believe in keeping things from you. I was going to tell you when I came back, but you’re here now, so . . .”

She sat up a little, pulling the sheet higher around her breasts. “You’re scaring me, Graham.”

“Nothing to be scared about. I saw Henry today.”

“You . . . what?” He could tell he’d shocked her. Not just a surprise, but a total shock. “How did you even . . . what did you . . . ho-how?”

“I got his contact info from Tasha. Good lawyer, by the way. On top of it. I can tell she wants to rip the guy in two, legally speaking . . . she’s just waiting for your say-so.”

“I haven’t had the ability to do it before,” she mumbled, scrubbing her hands over her face. “You went to his house? To, what, confront him? Yell at him? Oh my God.” Her eyes grew wide, a little frightened. “Graham, tell me you didn’t beat him up.”

“No.” Offended, he sat back. “Why the hell would I beat him up?”

“I don’t know . . . you spend half your day lately throwing punches and practicing how to dodge a punch . . . muscle memory?” She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand. Why did you do that?”

“It was a strategy. I wanted to cut him out at the knees before he could cause any more trouble. Because I think you should file to terminate his parental rights, completely.”

“I . . .” She shook her head, and he wasn’t sure if that was in exasperation, or confusion, or what. “I don’t . . . I can’t believe you did that.”

She hadn’t yelled at him yet, so he went on. “I just gave him the logistics of the process”—sort of—“and told him it was really in his best interest to go along without fighting.”

She sat in silence, staring at her hands, trembling on top of the sheet in her lap. Was it the mention of him seeing her ex that bothered her? That he’d stepped in the situation without permission?

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” she finally whispered.

It was an uppercut to the ego, but he did his best to mask any reaction. “Why?”

“So, so many reasons. The first being you didn’t even ask, you just did. I gave you permission to see the files and discuss strategy with Tasha. Advice, guidance, moral support . . . that’s all I hoped for. I didn’t intend for you to make this something you got involved in personally.”

“I just had sex with you on my couch. My ass still has dents from your heels, and you want to tell me this isn’t something I should be personally involved in? Kara, I love you. I love Zach. How the hell am I not personally involved?”

He hated that the word “love” made her flinch.

She stood, as regal as a queen, and walked out of the room. He stood and sighed, grabbing a pair of boxers from the dresser. After hopping in, he followed her out, finding her struggling with the zipper to her dress.

“I wish you’d stay a little longer.”

“Zip me up, please.” She moved her hair to one side to give him access to the back. “I need to get home. I used my backup babysitter and she charges three dollars an hour more than the regular.”

The implied, And now I’m regretting it, was left unspoken.

As he finished zipping her up, he ran his fingertips over her neck, down her shoulders and arms to pull her elbows until her back landed against his front. “Don’t leave like this.”