Fighting Love: the complete series

by Nikki Ash

  Charlie chugs half the beer, closes her eyes, and then after taking a deep breath, reopens them. Her words come out robotic, but at least I’ve finally got her talking. “I was in an abusive relationship for several years. I left him almost ten months ago.”

  “Emotionally or physically?”

  “Both. Most days I feel like I’m healing, finally getting over the way he treated me, but I guess seeing two people fighting, purposely hurting each other, triggered memories I’ve been trying to leave in the past.”

  “I know the fighting looks bad, but I can assure you Mason isn’t a violent man. He would never hurt someone outside of the gym.”

  “Do you fight?”

  “No. I train the fighters occasionally. Mostly Mason. I grew up in a gym, but I don’t fight anymore.”

  “I think the fighting just caught me off guard,” she admits. “I walked in and they were beating the crap out of each other. Flashbacks of being hit came back in full force.”

  Taking her small hands in mine, I edge closer. “Thank you for opening up to me. For telling me.” Charlie nods silently. “I want to help you.” When she doesn’t say anything, I continue. “Come in to the gym after hours and I’ll give you self-defense lessons. Just you and me. I read that many women in abusive relationships learn to defend themselves. It helps to make them feel stronger. And while you’re there, you can do the pictures for the website.”

  “You read about abusive women?” Shit! I shouldn’t have added that part. I might as well come clean.

  “You showed some signs… flinching when the picture fell… I didn’t want to assume, but I had a feeling. I was hoping I was wrong, but I did some research just in case I was right.”

  “Why would you do that?” She doesn’t sound mad, more like in awe, which confuses me. Needing her closer to me, I pick her up and place her onto my lap, her legs straddling me.

  “Because I want you in my life. I don’t care if it’s as a friend or something more.” Please, let it one day be something more…

  “There’s…things in my past. I’m not good for you and I’m definitely not good for Lexi.” Her head drops and I pick it up, forcing her to look at me.

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Charlie moves slightly against me and my dick twitches at the friction between our bodies, not getting the memo this isn’t meant to be a sexually intimate moment. I inwardly groan and move Charlie back onto the couch so I can take the peppers out of the oven. She needs me to go slow. She’s only been away from the abuse for less than a year and I need to remember that.

  As I’m standing up, her hand grips my arm. “Thank you.” She leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you for caring enough to look into it.”

  As we’re sitting down to eat, Mason comes strolling in. “Honey buns! I’m home and I smell something delicious!” He enters the dining room and grins when he spots Charlie. “Oh… am I interrupting something?”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yeah, a peaceful dinner. Peppers are on the stove. Grab some and join us.”

  Sitting down with a plate of stuffed peppers, Mason asks the obvious. “Where’s my Lexi girl?”

  “She had a big day. School and the art museum. She’s asleep.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be sad she missed your stuffed peppers,” Mason jokes because Lexi hates all things healthy.

  “You care to explain what happened at the gym today?” I take a bite of my food.

  Mason waves it off. “Isaac was just pissed I—” He looks over to Charlie, smirks, and he says, “caught his fish.”

  I groan. “Bro, stop using that damn term.”

  “Oh my God!” Charlie laughs. “I haven’t heard that in years. Catch and release, right?”

  “See! Even your woman thinks it’s clever.”

  Since Charlie doesn’t look uncomfortable at the assumption she’s my woman, I don’t comment on it.

  “When I was in college at A&M, guys would say that, or some of the cowboys would refer to it as steer roping.”

  Mason laughs. “That’s a good one! I like you.” He points to Charlie. “What are you doing with this serious guy? You should let me take you out and show you a good time.” He winks, and if I thought he was serious, I’d reach over and punch him.

  “Ha! I think I’m good. I prefer the dry land if you catch my drift.” She winks back at Mason and it’s fucking adorable.

  “Oh, but I can assure you, the wetter the better,” Mason volleys back. They playfully shoot fishing innuendos back and forth while we finish dinner. Charlie’s personality is coming out more and more and it’s definitely a sight to behold.

  “I’m in for the night. Why don’t I watch Lexi while you bring Charlie home?”

  I look at Charlie and she’s suddenly shy. Not wanting her to feel obligated to invite me up, I say, “All right. If I end up staying out later, I’ll let you know.”

  As we’re bringing the dishes to the sink, out walks a sleepy Lexi. “Daddy… my tummy is growling so loudly.”

  “Okay, sweetie. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “Thank you.” She looks around and adds, “But my tummy isn’t growling for peppers.”

  Charlie giggles. “What is your belly growling for, silly girl?” she asks.

  Realizing for the first time, Charlie’s still here, Lexi smiles. “Charlie! You’re here. Did my daddy make you eat peppers?” Her nose scrunches up.

  “I am and he did. But they were so delicious.”

  Lifting her onto the counter, I set her down then set out to make her a sandwich.

  “My belly doesn’t like peppers. It likes… peanut butter and fluff!” She smiles brightly. My daughter thinks she’s so slick, and if she hadn’t been sleeping through dinner, I would’ve made her eat them, but it’s already after eight and I’m not about to fight that battle.

  “It does, does it?” Charlie giggles some more at Lexi’s antics.

  “Lexi girl! What are you doing awake?” Mason walks into the kitchen, giving Lexi a kiss on her forehead.

  “My belly was screaming so loudly, Uncle Mason.”

  “What was it screaming?”

  “Peanut butter and fluff!” She says it in a squeaky voice, pretending it’s her belly doing the talking.

  Mason chuckles, handing me the marshmallow fluff. I make her a sandwich and pour her a glass of milk.

  “Go ahead and take off, man. I’ll wait for her to eat then put her back to bed.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, go.” He turns to Lexi. “Look what came in the mail today.” He holds up the package we’ve been waiting on from Amazon.

  “Yes! Is that my costume? Gimme!” She puts her hands out, her tiny fingers wiggling in excitement. Mason stretches his arm out before pulling it back quickly.

  “What’s the magic word?”

  “Please!” she shrieks and he hands the bag over.

  Lexi rips the bag open. “Look!” she squeals, holding out her costume. She changed her mind over a dozen times, and by the time she finally knew what she wanted to be, the costume store was sold out. Thank fuck for Amazon’s next day shipping.

  “Wow! Lexi, that costume is awesome.” Charlie takes it from Lexi and assesses it. It’s a painter’s cap, an apron covered in splattered paint, and to finish the costume, there’s a paintbrush and an artist palette.

  “It’s an artist!” Lexi says through mouthfuls of sandwich she’s scarfing down. She swallows another bite and then says, “Charlie! Can you go trick or treating with us?”

  Charlie sets Lexi’s costume down slowly. “Umm…well…”

  “Lexi,” I say, cutting off Charlie because this is starting to sound a lot like the last time Lexi invited her somewhere, and it’s not fair to put her in that position again. I imagine she likes kids well enough because she wouldn’t have recommended we take Lexi to the art museum if she didn’t, but for some reason, she seems to get uncomfortable when we invite her places. “Charlie doesn’t have kids,
so she probably doesn’t want to spend her night trick-or-treating.” Lexi pouts but doesn’t argue.

  “I need to bring Charlie home. Mason’s going to stay with you. Finish your sandwich and then it’s bedtime.”

  “Thank you, Daddy, for the costume!” She gives me a hug before pulling me down by my shirt so she can kiss my cheek.

  “You’re welcome, Lex. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I set her on the ground and she runs over to Charlie, wrapping her arms around her waist.

  “Bye, Charlie. See you soon! And I hope you come with me trick-or-treating.”

  “Bye, sweet girl.”

  I pull up in front of where Charlie lives and I can see how nervous she looks so I don’t ask to come up. Instead I ask, “When’s your next day off?”

  “Umm… Sunday.”

  “How about Sunday afternoon I’ll make sure the gym is cleared out and you can take your pictures then, and I can teach you a couple moves?”

  Charlie nods in agreement, giving me a small smile. “Okay, sounds good.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Charlie

  “Wow! Tristan, this gym looks amazing! And you own it, right?”

  It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m standing in the middle of Tristan’s gym. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a gym where people go to practice fighting. When I walked into the gym last week and saw the two guys fighting, I freaked out and ran before getting a good look at the place. For some reason when I imagined the gym, I pictured some dingy warehouse looking area with concrete floors and punching bags. But the gym I’m standing in looks nothing like that.

  “Yeah. I bought it a few years ago and had it all renovated.” Tristan smiles proudly.

  In one area, there’s a beautiful drink bar where the fighters can order several types of smoothies and shakes. Using the camera Tristan lent me, I snap a bunch of photos.

  “I think I should come back and take some photos of the fighters ordering and drinking. It will look more real. But for now, I can use these.”

  I walk over to another area that contains what looks like state of the art work out equipment and continue to take picture after picture. Then I move over to the big roped-in area where I saw the two guys fighting the other day, and take some more. Tristan continues to show me around as I snap way more pictures than I will need for the website, to be on the safe side. We go through each locker room, the bathrooms, the physical therapy room, and then head to an area in the back.

  “This is where our classes are held. We have classes for all ages including little kids.” I snap a few pictures. Tristan moves to a small octagon shaped area and steps in. “I was thinking we could practice some moves in here. As you can feel”—he bounces on the balls of his feet—“the floors are soft so you can’t get hurt.” I’m suddenly nervous. I haven’t had a chance to speak to my therapist about this yet, but I’m almost positive she’d tell me this is a good idea. For one, I’ll feel prepared if I’m ever in a situation where a man tries to hurt or overpower me, and two, I’ll feel stronger and more confident knowing I can at least attempt to defend myself.

  “Okay.” I set the camera down on the floor, then empty my pockets, placing my keys, cash, and cell phone on the floor before removing my flip-flops. When I turn to Tristan, he’s doing the same. Today he’s in a pair of basketball shorts, a UFC shirt, and his usual white hat. Tristan makes casual look downright sexy.

  We meet in the middle of the fighting ring, and since I’m not sure what to do, I stand in place and wait for Tristan’s guidance. He closes the gap between us and slowly places his hand on my shoulder. With only about six inches between us, I can smell the faint scent of his cologne and for some reason it comforts me. He gives me a soft smile. “Breathe, Charlie.”

  I release the breath I had no idea I was holding and he chuckles softly. “There you go. Just breathe. We’ll start off slow and work our way to more difficult positions.”

  I nod in agreement, waiting for his instruction. “The first move I’m going to show you is an open hand strike.” He takes my hand in his, and with his other hand he rubs his fingers along the heel of my hand down to my wrist.

  “This move is a good one because you don’t need any training. With the heel of your hand all you need to do is strike upward, downward, or to the side. The best areas are to the neck or jawline.” With his hand still holding mine, he runs his fingers along my arm until he gets to my elbow.

  “Keep your hand open and firm.” I tighten my hand, keeping it open as he brings my arm around, softly hitting the side of his neck. “Right here.” He locks eyes with me. “When you hit this area hard, it will hurt whoever is attacking you enough that you will have a chance to run.” We go over the motion I should use a few times before Tristan releases my arm and hand.

  “Okay, now you try. I’m going to approach you and I want you to hit me right where I showed you.” He steps back and then walks toward me. When he gets close to me, I bring my hand up, wincing as it connects with his neck, and he chuckles. “Charlie, you need to pretend like I’m the enemy. I want you to try to hurt me. Nothing you do to me will kill me.” I think about what he says. If Justin were standing in front of me, I would have connected a lot harder, but Tristan isn’t somebody I want to hurt.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper, hating violence. Tears spring from my eyes and Tristan closes the space between us.

  “Hey, hey, you aren’t going to hurt me. But sweetheart, how can you feel prepared if you don’t practice?”

  “I know,” I say, sniffling. “But I don’t like violence. Like at all.”

  “It’s just you and me.” Tristan bends slightly, so we’re eye level. “I hope you never have to use any of these moves, but I think you’ll feel a lot better once you have them to use if need be. You may not like violence, but you can’t stop other people from being violent. All you can do is be prepared.”

  He’s right. I have to accept the world can be a violent, shitty place. Justin is proof of that. And if I can be prepared, maybe I can stop it from happening in the future. Maybe if I were prepared before and fought back, Justin would’ve stopped. I’m done being weak. I said I was ready to take my life back, ready to move forward, and in order to do that I need to be strong.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I say with renewed confidence.

  Tristan smiles. “All right.”

  He comes toward me again, and this time I bring my hand up and strike the side of his neck with more force. He stumbles to the side and I immediately feel bad.

  “Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” I reach for his face, but when I look at him, he’s grinning, that one stubborn dimple peeking out slightly.

  “That was awesome!” Tristan beams with pride.

  We spend the next hour or so going over different moves: a kick to the groin in case I’m grabbed from the front, and a bear hug and a 360 defense in case I’m being attacked from behind. Tristan is a patient instructor the entire time, telling me with every new move how good I’m doing, and showing me each move however many times I need him to.

  “Okay, the last move I’m going to show you is if you’re attacked while on the ground. Go ahead and lie down in the middle of the mat.” I walk to the center and lie on my back, my knees slightly bent. Tristan walks over to me and positions himself above me, his legs caging me in. He bends slightly, his hands on either side of my shoulders. There’s nothing sexual in what he’s doing, yet I feel my legs tightening and the area between throbbing in need of something more. Tristan situates himself and then locks eyes with me. He licks his lips, about to speak—probably to give me direction—and I have no idea what the heck comes over me, but all of a sudden I’m grabbing him by his shirt, pulling him the rest of the way toward me, and kissing him with everything I have.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tristan

  I’m leaning over Charlie, praying my dick doesn’t get hard in this position, when her hand comes up and fists my s
hirt, pulling me down. For a second, I’m frozen in place thinking maybe she’s trying out a move on me. Only I realize all too quickly, she’s actually making a move on me. The woman under me is kissing me and I’m just sitting here like a damn idiot, doing nothing. Her lips are warm and soft, and a beat later mine are curving around hers, my tongue seeking entrance, hers granting access. Our tongues dance around one another and fuck if she doesn’t taste sweet. Her hips come up and grind my erection as she lets out a soft moan.

  Our kiss deepens, my hands moving to her hair, needing to grip something on her, but I stop short, afraid she’ll cower at my touch. Instead, I let her lead as I follow. And let’s be real… I’d follow Charlie any fucking where she goes. Her hand lets go of my shirt and both hands come up to my head, her fingers running through my short hair.

  “Look, Uncle Mason! Daddy is loving on Charlie.” The sound of my daughter’s voice is like a bucket of ice water being poured right over my dick. I can feel it visibly shrinking. Charlie’s eyes shoot open and she pushes on my chest. I fall to the side of her and she’s standing up before I can even get up.

  “Looks like Daddy is doing some fishing of his own.” Mason laughs, and I let out a groan.

  “Ewww! No, he’s not! Charlie, do you like fishing? It’s super gross and the fish are smelly and slimy.” She scrunches her nose up and walks toward Charlie waiting for an answer.

  “Nope, Lexi, I most definitely don’t like fishing.” Her voice is breathless and the knowledge that kissing me did that to her has me wanting to beat on my chest like a goddamn caveman.

  “Good!” Lexi nods her approval. “But Charlie, why were you loving on my daddy?” Charlie’s head swings to mine, her eyes pleading for me to help her.

  “Umm…well…” Charlie stumbles on her words and I almost want to stand back and wait to hear what she says, but I don’t. Instead, I come to the rescue. “I was teaching Charlie some fighting moves and she was thanking me.” Okay, that probably wasn’t the best explanation, but cut me some slack here. I’m improvising.