The Dragon Finds Forever (Nocturne Falls Book 7)

by Kristen Painter

  She took her seat and dug in. After the first mouthful, she put her fork down. “That’s a great omelet, Norma. Really good.”

  Norma was drying a pan. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Lisa went back to eating. Norma threw the towel over her shoulder and came over to the counter. “You need anything else, Van?”

  “No. Everything is good.”

  “All right. Same time tomorrow?”

  He shook his head. “Little later.”

  “You got it.” Norma gave Lisa a nod. “Nice to meet you, Lisa.”

  “You too, Norma.”

  Norma left the towel on the counter, then picked up her coat and purse. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Do svidaniya.” Van drank his coffee as Norma departed, leaving him and Lisa in the sudden silence.

  His house had never seemed small until now.

  Thankfully, Lisa was much better at making conversation than he was. She cut her omelet into bite-size pieces with the edge of her fork. “Does Norma come every morning?”

  “Usually once a week, but since my troubles, now four times.”

  “She’s very nice. And a good cook.”

  “Yes.” He frowned. Yes and no answers did not a conversation make. “She brings groceries. Takes Grom out. Cleans also. Very good help.”

  Lisa nodded. “I’m sure she is, especially with you not being so mobile. Speaking of…” She glanced at his knee. At the brace. Then back at him. “What sort of exercise does your doctor have you doing?”

  He grunted and stared into his coffee. “Stationary bike.”

  “How’s that going?” She ate another bite.

  He shrugged.

  She swallowed, then the right side of her mouth curved up in the kind of smile that was a little bit know-it-all and a little bit sympathetic. “You haven’t been using the stationary bike, have you?”

  He frowned and stared at her defiantly. “Once. Very painful.”

  “But isn’t the idea that as your strength and healing improve, the pain lessens?” She blinked and straightened, her expression growing slightly more serious. “That is how it works, you know.”

  He sighed. That was exactly what Dr. Martinez had said.

  “If you don’t do the physical therapy, you could lose mobility permanently.”

  Something else Dr. Martinez had told him. “I will be fine.”

  Her skeptical expression said otherwise. “It’s a good thing I showed up.”

  “No bike.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a slightly confused look. “I know it’s painful, but that’s part of the process. I would have thought a guy like you would be a little…I don’t know, less concerned about pain. You are the undefeated TFL heavyweight champion, after all. Achieving and maintaining that title had to come with a tremendous amount of effort. Some of it painful. Maybe a lot of it.”

  “Was undefeated. No more.” He grabbed his crutch and pushed to his feet, the anger and self-doubt he’d been struggling with rearing its ugly head again. The self-doubt was easy enough to shove down. The anger wasn’t. And he didn’t want that coming out around her.

  She reached toward him like she was going to try to stop his departure, but pulled her hand back at the last second. “Van, I’m sorry if I upset you. That wasn’t my intention.”

  He ignored her, unable in that moment to explain that the pain wasn’t the problem. It was the memories associated with it. The feelings. And the way they came flooding back. The humiliation of defeat. Or losing everything he’d worked so hard for. His career. His life. His purpose. The weight of it had crushed his drive. “Grom, ko mne.”

  The dog jumped up and trotted along as Van limped toward the coat closet. Getting down the steps would be difficult. Getting back up them would be a major undertaking. But he could do it, even if it took an hour. He didn’t need therapy.

  “Van, one more match and you can retake your title as champion.”

  He opened the closet and took out Grom’s leash before answering her. “But I will never again be undefeated. I am done fighting.”

  “The League told me you have one more fight on your docket. A rematch.”

  He snorted as he hooked Grom’s leash to his collar. “The League can get scorched.”

  Before she could respond, he yanked open the front door and stormed out. Well, as much as a person in a thigh-to-calf brace could storm while leaning on a crutch. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he’d hoped.

  He got the door shut behind him and stood there, sucking the cold air into his lungs in deep gulps.

  Miserable. That was the only word he could use to describe his current state of being.

  And he hated it. Hated feeling this way. Despite so much of his young life, he’d grown up to be a pretty content guy. He’d made a good life for himself. He loved what he did, made good money, and he’d been genuinely happy. Until that last fight.

  Grom whined, eager to run and burn off some energy.

  Van reached down and unclipped the leash. Grom took off, a streak of black and tan racing through the woods around the house with a look of utter happiness on his face.

  Van understood. He got cabin fever himself. But forget running, he could barely walk. And what he really wanted to do was fly, but the manticore venom in his system prevented him from shifting. That inability added to his frustration and fueled the simmering anger in his belly that seemed to be a constant these days.

  If only he could fight. That would—

  Lisa opened the door and joined him on the landing. “I’m sorry. It really wasn’t my intention to upset you. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to lose that night. I’m sure it was devastating. And I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”

  He stared into the woods surrounding his house. Grom zipped past on his second time around. Van gave Lisa points for following after him. Few would do that. And more points for apologizing again. And for saying she couldn’t really understand what it felt like. Too many people had acted like they’d understood, but they’d made light of it. Told him to get over it. That it happened to everyone. Not Pandora, but the people at the League. His manager. The League doctors. The promotions team.

  They all thought he should just suck it up, get through the therapy, get back into the ring and on with the next fight.

  But this wasn’t about sucking it up. This was about accepting how deeply his life had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  “Anyway, I was going to offer to walk Grom, but I see he’s walking himself pretty well. I’m happy to stay out here and watch him until he’s ready to come in, if you’d like. But I’m thinking after that, I should probably change my ticket and leave you alone.”

  That got his attention. He turned to look at her. “You would quit?”

  “You can’t quit a job you haven’t been allowed to start.”

  He stared at her. There was a heaviness in her gaze. As if the weight of the universe lay upon her shoulders. Was that what he looked like?

  Maybe. But what mattered was that he was the cause of that look. He took a breath and shifted his gaze back to the woods. “What happens first?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Therapy. What happens first?”

  Her mouth gaped as she blinked at him. His profile was a rather amazing series of rocky angles and hard bone. But then, he was a dragon, and they were built as tough as the mountains they called home. “You mean you’re going to do the therapy?”

  His mouth pursed for a moment. “Da. Yes.”

  “So we can start today? Right now? As soon as you come inside.”

  He glanced at her, eyes narrowed like he suspected she might have a screw loose. “That is what I mean.”

  She blew out a breath of relief. She really hadn’t thought that was going to happen. “Excellent news. Thank you.”

  Grom skidded to a stop in front of the porch. His tongue was hanging out, his sides heaving from the exertion, and Monalisa c
ould have sworn he was smiling. Could dogs smile? She wasn’t sure. She could, though. And so she did. “Where is your stationary bike?”

  “Downstairs. But I do not—”

  “Great, I’ll just go run down there and check that out while you—”

  “Nyet. No bike. No downstairs.”

  She swallowed her smile. The fire had returned to his eyes. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but there was no doubt it had been there. “Okay.” She got it. He hated the bike. And clearly wasn’t a fan of stairs. “But the physical component of the therapy requires you to exercise your leg.”

  “Fine. We walk.”

  She looked over his shoulder. Outside of the parking pad, the land surrounding his house was a rolling, hilly, rocky scape thick with trees and brush. It might be fine for Grom, but Van could easily make his injury worse on that kind of ground. Maybe the paved part of the driveway would be okay, but it was still sloped, and he’d have to go down the porch steps to get to it. “Where?”

  He gestured around. “The deck. It goes all the way around the house.”

  “It does?” She walked past him to look around the corner. Sure enough, the porch went past the front of the house and bent again to disappear on the far side. She glanced back the way she’d come and saw the same thing. She’d been so nervous when she’d arrived, she hadn’t really paid attention to it. “Okay, we can make that work.”

  Van whistled to Grom, who trotted up onto the deck and sat at his feet. “Then let’s begin.”

  A new set of nerves kicked in. And they were all related to the pressure put on her by her father. She needed this to work. “Okay, I’ll just go upstairs and get my notebook, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

  He squinted at her. “No walking?”

  “Yes, we’ll be walking, but this rehab isn’t just about repairing you physically. It’s about your mental and emotional state as well. The League wants you whole in every way.”

  He snorted. “I do not recall the League ever being interested in much more than whether or not I would make weigh-in.”

  She knew that was essentially true. She shrugged and dug deep for a plausible explanation. “You’re a very valuable member of the team. They really consider you the face of the organization, and they’re just concerned about you. That’s why I’m here, after all.”

  “Very interesting.”

  She had no idea how to take that. Did he think she was lying? Supposedly, her father had bribed all the right officials so that if Van called to check up on her, they’d agree she was here on League-approved business. Supposedly. But then, her father was pretty good about covering his backside in these kinds of dealings, and there was no way he’d jeopardize his potential payday by not having all possibilities covered.

  Knowing that gave her a little boost of courage. “Do you want to talk to my boss?” She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket. “I’m sure he can explain the process better.”

  Van stared at her phone for a second longer than she would have liked before saying, “Let’s just get on with it.”

  She almost exhaled in relief. She tucked her phone away and smiled. “See you in the living room.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just hustled back upstairs, grabbed her notebook and the list of questions she’d jotted down, and returned to the main floor.

  He was sitting in his big chair, waiting, Grom at his feet.

  She lifted her chin. There was no more time to pretend she was a rehab specialist. Now she had to be a rehab specialist. She took a seat on the couch perpendicular to him, flipped open her notebook, and clicked her pen. “All right. Let’s get started.”

  He lifted his brows as if to say he was waiting on her.

  She read off the first question, pen poised to write. “What would you say is the main thing holding you back?”

  That earned her a hard look and a sharp tone. “I was bitten by a manticore.”

  She let her pen drop. “Yes, you were. But I’m talking about in the bigger sense of things.”

  He frowned. “How much bigger could that be?”

  “Let’s try a different question.” She scanned the list. “How would your ideal self create a solution to this?”

  His expression didn’t change. “I would not have been bitten.” He hesitated, like he had more to say, finally adding, “What is my ideal self?”

  Yeah, what was his ideal self? She really had no idea. “I guess what I’m trying to uncover is how, in a perfect world, would you have avoided the thing that’s holding you back?”

  More glaring. “Same answer.”

  Okay, this wasn’t working. “Next question.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Here’s one. If your money could talk, what would it say to you?”

  He jerked back slightly, a shadow of suspicion clouding his eyes. “Why do you ask about my money?”

  “It’s just a question.” She flattened her notebook on her lap. “I’m trying to start a dialogue so I can see where your head’s at and how to help you overcome this…” She didn’t want to say depression, because that wasn’t really the right word. Or was it? “This difficult mental state the injury has put you in.”

  He laughed, which was not at all the response she’d expected. “Difficult mental state? I am fine. I am happy. I have my house and my friends and Grom. What else do I need?”

  She stared back at him. “Your career, maybe?”

  His mood compressed again. “My career is over.”

  “Because of one injury?” Forget whatever script she’d been following, this time she had to answer with her gut. “I just can’t believe a guy like you would let one injury take away everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

  “Believe it.”

  She glanced at her questions again, finding one that fit. “How does that decision square with the man people think you are?”

  His mouth opened, then closed. He sat farther back in his chair, gaze darkening. Little shimmers of heat rose off him. “No more questions.”

  “You agreed to do this.”

  He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell for three breaths before he looked at her again. “Fine. Next.”

  “How does your decision to quit square with the man people think you are?”

  He looked through her. Past her. And said nothing.

  She sighed. “Van, I know these are tough questions, but I’m here to help. And if you can’t talk to me about this, is there someone else you can talk to? Pretending like this injury hasn’t drastically changed your life is just…silly. Of course it’s changed your life. And it’s awful and crushing and probably the worst thing that’s ever happened in your charmed, dragon existence, but maybe, just maybe, if you stop acting like you’re a tough guy who doesn’t need any help, you might find that talking about it makes you feel better.”

  She took a breath, trembling slightly, and waited for him to throw her out. She shouldn’t have said half of those things, but he was a very frustrating man, and she was tired of holding back when it came to frustrating men.

  His brow crinkled, and he stared at the brace imprisoning his leg. “This is not the worst thing that has ever happened to me. But it is close.” He shook his head and looked away. “Talking about feelings is not the Russian way. It is not the fighter’s way either.”

  She stayed quiet, letting him talk. This was the most communicative he’d been since she’d arrived.

  His arms were outstretched on the chair, and he flexed his hands into fists. “The answer is, it doesn’t.”

  She tilted her head. “What doesn’t?”

  “My decision to quit. It doesn’t square with the man people think I am. But that man…” He swallowed once and seemed to be collecting his thoughts. “That man isn’t really me.”

  “Then who are you?”

  He let out a long, slow breath. “I do not know anymore.”

  Her heart clenched at the sadness in his voice. She hadn’t imagined
how deeply this injury had affected him. It was staggering. Especially because of her part in it. In that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to genuinely help him. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

  He didn’t say anything. Just sat there. Grom shoved his head under one of Van’s big hands, looking for attention. Van scratched the dog, and Monalisa found an opening.

  “Why did you adopt Grom?”

  “Because I am settling down. And I always wanted a dog. They’re loyal.”

  “And loyalty means a lot to you?”

  He met her gaze again. “Without loyalty, what is there?”

  She nodded. “Then you’ve been planning on settling down. This fight wasn’t really the cause of it.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it this soon.”

  Finally, they were having a real conversation. “Did you like fighting?”

  “For a creature like myself, fighting is like breathing. I was born for it. Not because I am an angry man, or because I want to cause pain or destroy things, but because I am a dragon. We are protectors.”

  “What were you protecting by fighting in the League?”

  “My name. My rank. My people.” He put his thumb between Grom’s eyes and rubbed, sending the dog into a heavy-lidded state of bliss. “Can you understand that?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  He looked at her. “Think about how your parents protected you growing up. That instinct is the same in me. Just with a different focus.”

  She laughed bitterly and glanced away. If he only knew the truth.

  “Why does that make you laugh?” he asked.

  “No reason.”

  “I answered your questions. You answer mine.”

  She stared at the notebook in her lap. “Let’s just say protecting me wasn’t high on my parents’ to-do list and leave it at that.”

  He was quiet a moment. “I am sorry. No child should feel that way about the people who gave them life.”

  She forced a smile as she looked up. “Yes, well, we all have our burdens to bear, don’t we?” She cleared the emotion from her throat and brought the conversation back around to him. “If you feel that way about fighting, why not heal from this injury and then come back stronger than ever? Why not accept this rematch and show the world it was just a fluke?”