“Let me go get cleaned up,” Beau said. “Madison has whipped up a fine dinner, pulled pork. Had my mouth watering when I was inside, so she finally kicked me out to the shop.” He smiled and kissed Madison before going into the house.
Aaron heard two kids laughing and running around the side of the house, barefoot, scruffy in shorts and T-shirts, looking happy as could be.
“Jackson, Darlene, come on over here and meet your uncle,” Madison called out, and Aaron took in the excitement. Vic was also taking in this scene and had an expression on his face that Aaron couldn’t remember seeing before: amusement.
* * *
Dinner had been fantastic—a southern classic, he was sure. The biscuits had been flaky, and the pork had been the best he’d ever had.
Jackson, his nephew, was the eldest, at nine. The boy was curious and had no fear of anything. Darlene, his niece, was seven and had just lost both her front teeth. She talked a mile a minute, and to her no question seemed too personal. She’d been reprimanded twice.
Now the kids were both tucked in bed, and it was just Beau and Madison outside with Vic and Aaron, the sound of crickets in the background. Beer had been pulled out, and a cold one was in front of each of them. Beau had his arm around Madison. Madison was plain and would never stand out, and neither was Beau the kind of buff guy who had women chasing him down, but he was nice and seemed to be the kind of man Aaron would have wanted for his sister.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” Beau said. “I told Madison for a long time to stop in and see you, to make things right. She felt bad for what happened.”
Madison was leaning against her husband, and Aaron could see she carried so much of the weight of this.
“Wasn’t your doing, Madison,” he said. “You were just a kid. You didn’t know.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t feel responsible. Even Tom, when I told him, he had to call me back because he needed a minute. He wants to meet you, Aaron. I guess it’s just that I feel cheated of all these years. Tom and I were so close. You should have been a part of that.”
He knew Vic was taking it all in.
“Glad, though, to know you were adopted to a good family straight off,” she said.
Aaron didn’t miss the expression on Vic’s face. He wasn’t going to tell her, of course. She was carrying her mother’s burden, and if she’d known he hadn’t been adopted right away but had instead been moved from foster home to foster home until he was five, when he arrived scarred and damaged on Jerry and Shelley’s doorstep, she’d be a mess. He wouldn’t do that to her. It didn’t matter.
“They are,” he said, and he took a swallow of his beer, knowing Vic wouldn’t share any of it.
12
The room was dark, and Mary heard a car door shut outside, then voices. People were walking past her room and laughing. It was the guests in the room next door. She heard a woman giggling, and the door was kick closed. It was only a few minutes later that she heard the bed banging against the paper-thin wall, a woman screaming out, and a man making a godawful noise. Great, they were having wild drunken sex, and it seemed to go on and on. She reached for the other pillow and placed it over her ear.
Someone was banging on her door. For a minute she wondered whether it was from the wall, but then it happened again.
She jumped from bed, her heart hammering in her chest as she walked to the door. The chain was on, and she opened it only the crack the chain would allow. She saw a man she didn’t recognize: dark hair, dark eyes under the outside light. He was big and scary.
“Yes?” She knew her voice shook.
“Mary?” he asked. His voice was deep, and his eyes didn’t seem to miss a thing.
“Yes?” she said again, wondering who this was. The management of this dive?
“Aaron is my brother,” he said, and it took her only a second to understand. She nodded and then pressed the door closed, slid off the chain, and opened it again. She was wearing a long T-shirt and pajama shorts, fairly decent, but she went to the closet and pulled out a hoodie, which she pulled on as she heard the door close.
The man was in dark jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt, rolled up at the cuffs. The vee at his neck showed the dark hair of his chest. He had an imposing face, and his eyes watched her, all suspicion.
She crossed her arms and just stood there, watching this man who was making her nervous as he stood just in the room, his back to the door, looking at everything.
“I’m trying to figure things out after Aaron told me about you, your visit yesterday,” he said. “I knew what a fucked-up mess he was after surviving that Boxing Day disaster. He’s been putting his life back together, and now some girl shows up on his doorstep, telling him she was the last person to be with the girl he loved, the girl he lost, to what, stoke up all that crap and heartache after he’s closed the door on what happened?”
She was staring at Aaron’s brother, who wasn’t looking at her now but at her things, her room, her bed. She couldn’t help feeling crapped on. “You sure he closed that door? How could anyone, after surviving that? I think you’re wrong.”
That had his attention. She could tell she’d touched something in this man, a man who maybe she shouldn’t be messing with. He said nothing for a minute as she fidgeted and ran her hand over her shoulder, tossed her hair back.
“Don’t do that,” he said, and she froze, wondering what he was talking about.
“I’m sorry?”
He smiled then, but it wasn’t anything happy. It should have made her nervous. “That hair-flicking thing, there. Knock it off. That may work with some guys, the attitude, but not with me. Don’t. You come around my brother with this story of Brittany, and you seem to think it’s fine, messing with him after all these years. Why now after all this time, and why would you show up here with…” He touched her ratty purse, her cheap laptop. Anyone could see it was one of the cheaper models. “Are you after money? You want something from my brother, is that it?”
“No. Is that what he told you?” She couldn’t believe Aaron had told his brother about her. She didn’t know he had family out here.
He said nothing, then crossed his arms, really studying her. “I’ve called my investigator. What do you think he’s going to find, Mary, when he starts digging? And he will dig. I’m not a man to be messed with, and there’s no way I’ll allow you to mess with Aaron.”
He’d said it as a warning, but she was still stuck on the investigator part. That wasn’t good. She shut her eyes, because this wasn’t going as planned, and she’d never expected to feel what she was feeling now. Her legs weakened, and she lowered herself to the bed. It squeaked, and then the forgotten banging on the wall kicked up again along with the loud passionate noises of a man screwing a woman. Could it get any worse?
“I told you the truth. I told Aaron the truth. What do you want from me? I didn’t come for anything. I’m not here for money.” It was time to tell him the truth, tell him about her. “I saw what he did in his first fights, all his fights. He gives money away. You know, right?”
He had an odd look on his face.
“To the survivors, to that tiny region that was devastated. He’s a good man, but like all of us, he carries something from that.”
“So that’s why you’re here, to get some of that money?”
He wasn’t getting it. No, how could she make him understand it wasn’t about the money? It was about what he was doing with it in her name.
“I told you already that I’m not here for money.” She looked down at the bed and her fingers and the scar that ran deep up the side of her leg.
“Then tell me what your story is, Mary. What will my investigator find? I’m not a man who sits back, and I have the means to uncover any secret. What are you hiding?” he asked again, and she shut her eyes, knowing it was only a matter of time before he found the truth.
She rested her hands over her face, remembering the face that haunted her dreams, the face that had never left her as
she spent months in the hospital, all that time, not knowing who she was. Aaron’s eyes, his dark hair and smile before he reached out to her, before the horror of a split second that had ripped them apart. His face would always haunt her.
“I am Brittany,” she said, and then a lamp crashed in the room next door, the man and woman banging against the wall again. She took in the alarm on Vic’s face, and she was positive he would and could keep anyone from ever hurting his brother.
13
Aaron had talked to Madison after his run at dawn. She was excited and was now planning a little reunion, because Tom wanted to meet him. There was something about being wanted, being part of a family he’d been separated from, but he still couldn’t think about his mother without feeling a lot of resentment and hatred for a woman who’d found it easier to toss him away than to come clean with what she’d done.
He was downing a bowl of oatmeal after polishing off a banana and an orange. Then he would head to the barn to work some reps on the bag, weights, and drills. He’d already talked to Trey, and they’d agreed to meet up at the end of the week before the next fight in Nashville. Aaron would have just enough time to heal before getting into the ring again. He was pumped, primed, and ready.
He heard a car and scooped the rest of the oatmeal into his mouth, then dumped the bowl into the large sink before moving barefoot to the door. He was wearing clean shorts and his bare chest, which would have to do. He heard a car door shut and then voices, and he stepped outside to see Vic, who’d disappeared at dawn. Mary appeared behind him.
“Huh,” he said, looking to Vic and knowing his brother had just stepped big time into his business when he’d asked him specifically to stay the hell out of it—or maybe he hadn’t exactly used those words. “What’s this?” he asked and noted their exchange. Awkward.
“You got a minute?” Vic asked.
Aaron took in his brother, who appeared as if he hadn’t shaved, wearing dark jeans and a plain dress shirt. Didn’t he have a business meeting today? Then there was Mary, who was looking around, one arm holding the other, wearing a light blue sundress that bunched at the waist and stopped at the knees. It was plain but couldn’t hide her perfect figure. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he could see the scar at her hairline. He wondered how often she tried to hide it.
“I have time,” he said, leaning on the railing at the front stoop.
He noted the way Vic looked to Mary. She said not a word, and he was dying to know what the hell was up. He didn’t like what he was sensing as they were walking into the house. He heard the creak of the steps behind him and the screen door slapping closed. He walked into the living room and around the chair, standing, and gestured to the space, waiting for someone to say something, for someone to do something.
Mary took a seat in the stuffed chair. She still didn’t look at him, and his heart sank a little more, bringing a sick feeling in his stomach.
“Mary has something she’s going to share with you,” Vic said, crossing his arms and then squeezing his chin as he stared down at her.
She glanced to Vic, which had that feeling in Aaron’s stomach jumping up to his throat. He waited and squeezed his fists, because this was where he wanted to hit something, hard. When she finally looked up to him, he saw such sadness there.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” she said, and he wondered what kind of twisted shit was going to come at him next.
He looked to Vic, who was staring down at Mary so intently that Aaron wondered whether she had any idea the hot spot she was in. And Vic, what was he doing?
“Someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here!” Aaron said. He rolled his shoulders, which were bunching, and noted the glance Vic gave him. It was odd, his expression, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“I paid Mary a visit last night. Do you want me to tell him?” Vic was looking at her again, and he didn’t sound threatening. Maybe that was what Aaron found odd about all of this.
She glanced his way and rested her hand to her chest. “No,” she said. Then she looked Aaron’s way, and he didn’t like her expression. She swallowed. “There’s something I didn’t share with you about what happened, and I’m not sure…” She was making this painful.
“Spit it out,” Aaron said. “I have drills to run, a fight to train for. I don’t have all day to stand here with whatever this bullshit is.” He gestured to the barn, wanting to walk out of there.
What made it worse was that Vic seemed so calm, and he was never this calm.
She nodded. “Of course. I told you already that I woke up in the hospital. There were people everywhere. I didn’t know who I was, and they had to call me something, so one of the nurses called me Mary. It stuck. I didn’t know where I was from, and my face is different now. I’ve seen the photos of what I looked like. I’m not the same. You didn’t recognize me.”
Hearing it was like a knife shoved in his gut.
“Your face was something I saw over and over in my dreams,” she said. “I didn’t know who you were because I didn’t know who I was. When I did finally remember, almost two years had passed, and the reality of everything hit. My family was contacted. My dad flew out to get me. My sister and her new husband took me in. I thought you’d died, but then I saw an article about you. You were a fighter.”
He was staring at her, but he’d stopped listening. He didn’t recognize her, her eyes were so different, and he stepped around the chair, holding himself tight. “Look at me,” he growled.
Her startled eyes did look up to him, and she started to stand up, but he stood right in front of her, so she settled back in the chair. He took in the hazel eyes he should have known, the color of her hair, and the face he didn’t recognize. Her nose was narrow, but the shape of her face was maybe the same. She touched her cheek, her nose, maybe because of how hard he was staring at her.
“Yet you didn’t reach out for how many years?” he said. He didn’t know what to feel as he turned away, his hands on his head, feeling everything in that moment—so much pain, so much hurt at having lost the girl he loved, yet here she was, so much alive, and she hadn’t bothered reaching out to him. “This game of yours, showing up, telling me you’re someone else but were with her, making me believe she died all over again… What kind of sick, fucked-up shit is that? Who are you?” he yelled. “Brittany would never do this, would never have let me believe she was dead. This is beyond cruel.”
He watched her flinch. She was looking away, sitting so stiffly. He didn’t have to look over to his brother to know he hadn’t moved. He threw his arms up, his hands punching the air. “Why would you not call me as soon as you knew, as soon as you knew I was here, dying inside because I thought you died? Why?” he yelled.
She looked up to him, watching him, her eyes cold and distant. “Because my father told me you moved on.”
14
Vic was inside, talking with Aaron, and she was where? Outside in the dirt. The morning was early, but the day had already started to heat up. She could hear their voices, shouting, anger, and that was why she was outside. Vic had sent her out, and now she was listening to the emotion of a man on the edge, on the outside looking in.
There was a loud bang and a crash and more shouting. She was glad Vic had asked her—no, told her to wait outside. She could start walking, she supposed, although it was a long way back to town on foot. Maybe she could hitch a ride. Just as she thought it, though, she felt the weight of what a bad idea that would be.
The screen door flew open, and she stared at Aaron, bare chested, barefoot, in loose shorts, storming out. Vic was right behind him, and both looked her way. Actually, Aaron was focusing everything on her, and his eyes were filled with so much: power, rage, and a fury that had never been there before. He was animalistic, out of control, as she’d seen him in those shots from the ring, and all of it was bearing down on her.
“Aaron, stop!” Vic shouted at him, but it wasn’t getting through, because Aaron was alre
ady down the stairs and heading her way.
She didn’t know why, but she started to run, only her legs wouldn’t give her the power she needed. She stumbled and fell, and then he was standing over her, and she just sat in the dirt and put her hand on her leg, the one that had been damaged so badly twelve years before. She could hear his breathing; it was fierce and deep, and she could feel the uncontrollable emotion raging over her. Then Vic was there, and she could sense his need to protect everyone.
“You all right?” Vic asked her. He was about to lean down and help her up when she took in the motion from Aaron. He was fighting himself as he held out his hand to her.
It was a choice, really: Let the brother who was safe help her or let Aaron, who was sitting on the edge. She placed her hands in the dirt and went up on her knee, pulling her skirt down and making her way to her feet by herself.
Aaron was pissed again, shaking his head. “Stubborn,” she heard him mutter under his breath. Vic was still watching her.
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing at the dirt on her cotton sundress.
Aaron wiped his face and then stepped away, circling his arms and working his neck as if he had a kink.
“Aaron, you and…Mary need to talk, but with the frame of mind you’re in, I don’t think it should be now,” Vic said.
She could tell he’d stopped himself from calling her Brittany. She just stared at Aaron with a hundred questions she wanted to ask him, knowing that he had at least that many more to ask her.
“Why the name?” Aaron wasn’t looking at her as he planted his feet, adjusting himself, crossing his arms over his chest.
She shrugged. How to explain that it was what she had been called before she knew who she was? “It stuck. Brittany never felt right after it all came back. I wasn’t her anymore.” How could she be after surviving the horror that had shaped her into someone else?
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