by Cherrie Lynn
“But I don’t know if I can live the life you did.”
“I would never want to go back to it,” Rowan agreed, staring off into some middle distance, at memories only she could see. “I don’t know, some of it wasn’t so bad. I suppose the toughest part was living with the fighter. Sometimes—and I don’t think I’ve ever admitted this out loud—it was almost a relief when he was away, so I could relax and take some time for me for a change. God, is that awful?”
“No,” Savannah said quickly. “I can understand that. I used to live with him too.”
“Yeah,” Rowan laughed. “I suppose it’s somewhat possible I was being a little too hard on Mike. Hell, Savvy, if I’m willing to admit that I was wrong, it should be way easier for you.”
Maybe not if Rowan knew what he’d said about Tommy. Even if there was at least a tiny bit of truth to it. “Zane wants to see you again,” Savannah blurted out, not sure where that had come from or why this seemed like an opportune moment to tell her.
Rowan’s eyes became the size of saucers. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“That’s what Mike said. He wants your number. Should I get it to him?”
“There you go!” Rowan said excitedly, reaching over to smack Savannah’s arm. “There’s your chance to talk to Mike again. Please tell him yes, he can have my number, but only if he’ll behave himself.”
Savannah managed a chuckle through the ache in her heart. “You expect a rock star to behave himself?”
“He was a perfect gentleman when we talked before. I think he can. We old pregnant ladies don’t need any wild times.”
“Please, you’re not old. And you seem to be doing better,” Savannah observed. Rowan’s hair was fixed in soft waves, her makeup perfect. Maybe today was only one good day in a sea of bad ones, but she looked great. Pregnancy agreed with her, lent a glow to her skin, a sparkle to her eyes. “I know I made things hard on you again. I’m so sorry for that, Ro. So sorry.”
“Oh, honey,” Rowan said, “it was mainly not seeing you that was so hard on me. I’m glad you’re here. Don’t ever leave.”
They shared a laugh, and before too much longer, the cookies were done. It was hard to be sad when one had access to warm white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Together, they devoured the entire batch and consumed mass quantities of Rowan’s excellent sweet tea, any sorrows temporarily suspended due to the subsequent sugar rush. Rowan showed her the progress on the nursery, where she’d hung a huge framed wedding portrait over the spot where she wanted to put the crib. Tommy had looked so handsome in his tux, and Rowan ravishing in her wedding dress with her blond ringlets and innocent smile.
Eventually they ended up on the couch in the living room, surrounded by Tommy’s eagles, watching TV and catching up. “So you haven’t talked to him at all since he left?” Rowan asked, her legs tucked underneath her while she flipped through channels.
“No. It’s been a week. He’s probably in Mexico City by now. I think he wanted to train in the altitude so he would be used to it.”
“Ah. Well . . . you have your passport, don’t you?”
“I do, but I am not going to Mexico City to watch him fight. No frigging way.” The mere thought caused her stomach to plummet.
“Yeah, I understand. That would be a little much. So text him right now and give him my number to pass to Zane. See what he says.”
Savannah shook her head. “I will. But not right now.”
With a funny growl of frustration, Rowan stopped channel surfing long enough to toss a throw pillow at her. “Come on.”
“Rowan—” Savannah huddled up in the corner of the couch as Rowan extended one leg—clad in flowery leggings—and nudged her repeatedly in the side with her toes.
“Do it. Dooo eet.”
“I cannot believe you’re the one encouraging this. After what we’ve been through . . .”
Savannah saw the smallest of cracks in Rowan’s cautious optimism. “I know. But if anything, what we’ve been through has shown us how short life can be, hasn’t it? I’ve lost my parents, and now my husband. I don’t know why. I just know that if I could get back one minute, just one, with any of them, I would take it in a heartbeat. I was thinking that when you and Mike walked up at the cemetery, and it struck me. You have that opportunity, you have all those minutes that I don’t. He was right beside you. He’s out there right now, probably waiting to hear from you.” She paused, staring off at some distant point over Savannah’s shoulder. Maybe at the picture of her and Tommy that Savannah knew hung on the wall behind her. “And if you love him, I can’t rob you of that. My God, Savvy, don’t we all deserve some happiness?”
There wasn’t any happiness to be had for Savannah right now. But maybe she could get some for Rowan. “All right, I’ll do it. For you. Don’t expect much for me.”
Rowan retracted her leg and tucked it back underneath her. “We’ll see.”
Blowing out a breath, Savannah lifted her phone and pulled him up in her contacts. For some reason, she thought about the day he’d added his own info into her phone at the Café Du Monde while coffee cups clinked and zydeco played in the distance and patrons chattered. One of the saddest days of her life. He’d wanted her to use his number then; she could only hope he wanted her to use it now.
Once she pulled up the keyboard, though, she froze. What to say? I miss you? I hope you’re okay? Hey, here’s Rowan’s number, pass it on to your brother?
“Maybe I should call him for this,” she said thoughtfully.
“Whatever works.”
Can we talk? Send. And she wanted to fling her phone across the room at the anxiety that exploded in her chest, forcing her heart into her throat. Rowan watched her with a mixture of sympathy and amusement as Savannah covered her face with both hands.
“It’ll be okay.”
“He’s probably working. It could be hours before he’s able to—” Her phone lit up with his number. “Oh God.”
“I’m out,” Rowan said, scrambling up from the couch and heading for the stairs. “Good luck!”
This was all her fault. Savannah glared at her retreating back, then answered, the anticipation at hearing his voice curling her toes. “Hello?”
“Hey.” But he sounded distant, detached. In fact, the disinterest in his voice brought her hand to her mouth. “Everything okay?”
“Um, yeah.” No. I miss you. Come back. “Is everything okay with you?”
There was a pause before his answer. “It’s all right. I’m in New York for press and photo shoots and stuff, and I hate that shit. My least favorite part.”
“When do you get to go home?”
“I’m at the airport now, but I don’t get to be home for long.” In the background, she could hear another conversation going on nearby, and laughter. Suddenly, her heart ached to be next to him, to be by his side through all of this.
“Oh, well, that’s good. That should make you feel better. Did you have a press conference?”
“Yeah. But don’t watch it, Savannah.”
Her heart squeezed when he said that. She wasn’t sure if it was hearing him say her name again or the insinuation that something bad had happened. “Why?” she choked out.
“It wasn’t anything you need to see. You were absolutely right to stay away. This is . . . fucking ugly, and it’s only gonna get worse.”
Was that why he sounded like he’d rather not be talking to her? Did he want to protect her by keeping her at arm’s length? She tried to tell herself that, because the alternative was simply too heartbreaking. “Okay,” she said, closing her eyes. “Will you, um, go ahead and pass Rowan’s number on to Zane, if he still wants it? She’d like to talk to him again too.”
“Sure, yeah. Text it to me. I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Thanks.” She already could hear the beginning notes of goodbye in the conversation. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. Tell him! “I . . .”
He waited.
“I’m wishing you
all the best. In the fight. And—”
“Thanks. We’re about to board, so they’ll be making me turn everything off.”
“Okay.”
“Give Rowan my best.”
“I will.”
“All right. Gotta go.” And he hung up.
Oh my God. Oh my God. She could do nothing but stare at her phone in disbelief. It had sounded like a completely different person than the one she’d gotten to know. But he’d warned her, hadn’t he? Then you haven’t gotten to know me at all. You only see the side you want to see, he’d said, a look in his eyes that was still capable of sending chills down her spine.
Except that she hadn’t believed him then. She didn’t believe him now. He only showed the side he wanted people to see when he wanted them to see it, to push them away, scare them off, or maybe to protect them. A coping mechanism, no doubt formulated by a scared kid who was trying to protect his younger brothers from the abundant horrors of their life, cultivated to perfection over the years. Serving him well now in his chosen profession.
Rowan peeked her head into the room as Savannah still stared blindly at her phone. “Done already?”
“Oh yeah, we’re done,” she replied glumly, about to toss it aside before she remembered she was supposed to text him Rowan’s number. She went ahead and did that. “That went about as well as I expected. But way worse than I hoped.”
“Is he mad? Is that fragile ego bruised?”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with that. He sounds . . . cold. But he does have your number to give to Zane.”
Rowan picked up their glasses from the coffee table to get refills on their tea. “As if he’ll ever use it.”
Except that he did. Savannah got the gleeful call from Rowan a few days later as she was sitting on her balcony late in the afternoon trying to read a book and get her mind off everything. It was working out about as well as she’d figured it would, which wasn’t saying much.
“Can you believe it? We must have talked for an hour,” Rowan said happily.
Savannah’s heart warmed. Mike had still been willing to facilitate that connection. For a couple of days, she’d had the terrible thought that the opportunity might have passed, and then she would have that weighing on her conscience too. “Awesome. Are you going to see him?”
“Nah, nothing like that. It’s just a friendly thing. But how cool is it that I can call Zane Larson my friend? I can call Zane freaking Larson. I mean, oh my God!”
“I’m happy for you.”
“You know, he talked a lot about Mike.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Maybe. He said he talked to him today for the first time in a while and that he didn’t think his head was right. That’s not a good thing for those guys, Savvy. He needs all his focus.”
“What do you want me to do about it? I tried to talk to him.”
“You didn’t try very long.”
“He cut me off!”
“Have you watched the press conference?”
“No,” Savannah explained with exaggerated patience, “because he told me not to.”
“Jesus Christ, woman, you need to learn when to listen to the man and when to not. I’m sure it’s all over YouTube. Zane said he saw it, and we might want to check it out. I don’t know. I’m only the messenger.”
Truth was, Savannah didn’t want to subject herself to the pain of seeing him, on a screen or otherwise.
“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 fucked 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, asshole.”
“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 nigh
t 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 fucking pissed.”
She could have pulled it up on her phone, but that screen wasn’t big enough to show the sheer magnitude of the fuckery 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.
“What the hell!” she exploded. “How does he know about that? How do any of them? It isn’t like a single one of them has fucking called to check on me. Even the ones that Tommy considered his friends!”
“I didn’t think so, or else you would have mentioned it.”
“What a fucking asshole. Savannah! I don’t know that clown!” She stabbed a finger at the screen, where Meyers’s ugly face was still ranting.
“Did Tommy know him? Personally, I mean?” Everyone knew of him.
“If he did he never talked about him.”
“I would think we’d know someone who’s vowing vengeance in our name.”
“Look at him, he’s just using it to get to Mike.”
“And it’s getting to him. You can see it.”
Rowan watched silently for a moment. Mike took his seat again, but the pain was readily apparent in his sullen, haunted eyes, in the tightness of his jaw. “Yeah.”
Savannah turned her back on it to look at her. “What should we do? We can’t let that go unanswered. Especially with Mike thinking I hate him or something for signing up for this to start with.”