Combative

by Jay McLean

  I shake my head, laughing as I make my way over to the weights.

  “Well well well,” I hear, and stop in my tracks. Fucking DeLuca. I quickly face him, but he’s already sitting next to Madison, whose face has paled completely. She sits up straight, her shoulders rigid.

  “Maybe it’s time I watch you in action,” DeLuca says, setting his ankle on his opposite knee. He leans back in his chair, throwing an arm behind Madison. Slowly, I stalk over to them and ignore DeLuca. “You good?” I ask Madison.

  She nods quickly. “Yeah. You go ahead. I’ll...” She lifts the iPad. “I’ll just...yeah...”

  “Let’s spar!” Gunner yells.

  I back away, my gaze flicking between the two of them. DeLuca doesn’t budge. He doesn’t show a single emotion.

  I hate it.

  I hate him.

  Finally, I turn to Gunner. “We sparred this morning. I thought we were doing strength and conditioning?”

  “Is this your gym?” he spits. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Whatever you say, man.” I head back over to Maddy where my gear is.

  “No gloves. No gear!” he yells.

  I rest my hands on my hips and shake my head, but then I think, fuck him. I strip off my shirt and throw it at Madison.

  When I get in the cage, Gunner’s eyes skim over my ribs, pretending to ignore the remnants of the damage he’d helped create the week before.

  I try to concentrate because I want DeLuca to see that I’m not just some chump in the cage. I want him to know that I’m learning—and that I’m good—so that if he ever feels the need to attack me again, I’ll be more than fucking happy to fight back.

  After an hour of sparring, and Gunner ‘talking’ me through things, he says he wants to show me one more move before taking a break. I’m beat, but my conditioning is good. I train hard every day, pushing myself to my absolute limit. Gunner—he’s fucked. He can barely speak, from both his lack of oxygen and the sweat covering his entire face.

  He glances over at DeLuca for a second, but it’s long enough for me to follow his gaze—and long enough for me to see DeLuca jerk his head once. He gets up from beside Madison, taps her once on the shoulder and leaves the building.

  “Focus,” Gunner clips. “You need to work on your sprawl. Your balance is off.”

  My attention now on him, I nod in agreement. Sprawling isn’t my greatest skill.

  “I’m going to go for a single leg take-down,” he says.

  “Okay.” I set my feet apart, plant them to the floor and bend my knees, giving myself maximum defensive resistance. The plan is that he’ll move forward—try to take me down by grabbing one of my legs. If it works out for him, I’ll be on the ground. If it works for me—I’ll be able to scoot my legs back quick enough that I’d land on his upper back and gain an advantage.

  But he doesn’t go for the takedown.

  He goes straight for my ribs...

  With his goddamn shoulder.

  I fly back, all air leaving my lungs.

  Flashes of white hit the back of my eyes, and somewhere in the distance, I hear Madison scream. I wince, rolling to my left and nursing my right ribcage.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole!” Madison yells. I hear the cage door open and slam shut and the next moment...tits...all up in my vision.

  Maybe I’m dreaming.

  “Ky! Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I try to move, but the pain’s too overwhelming.

  She’s on her knees, her hand stroking my forehead. Then suddenly, rage fills her eyes and her face turns red. She looks up. “You did that on purpose. You dick!”

  Gunner stutters some form of apology.

  Madison looks back at me. “Can you sit up?”

  I shake my head. I can, but I like my view just fine.

  She runs her hands through my hair and lifts my head off the mat, holding me to her. I smile against her chest. “Are you hurt?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I moan, ignoring the pain in my ribs and basking in the glory of my face in her tits. “It hurts so damn bad.”

  She pulls away, her eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking with me?”

  I laugh, which reminds me of the true physical pain I’m in. “No,” I lie. I reach out and grab her arm, trying to bring her back to me. “Come back and comfort me, that made me feel a whole lot better.”

  She glares at me, but then helps me stand and turns to Gunner. “You’re an asshole, Gunther.”

  My laugh’s cut short by my wince.

  “Gunner,” he says.

  My ribs aren’t broken, but they’re pretty damn close. She helps me with my shirt and walks me out of the gym.

  “What the hell’s his problem?” she says, stopping in front of the dollar store. “I bet he has a tiny dick.”

  I laugh, and then almost cry out in my pain. “Fuck. Don’t make me laugh.”

  “And you!” She pokes a finger into my shoulder. “I was so worried you broke something and you—”

  I raise my hand, cutting her off. “I’m not going to apologize for being a guy. Don’t expect it.”

  She rears back and gives me that same disgusted look all girls give to idiot jack holes. “I’ll be back,” she says, walking into the store.

  I lean against the wall and quit faking it for a moment.

  I hurt.

  Bad.

  And I need time to recover.

  I pull out my phone and send a text to Jackson.

  Ky: I can’t train for a few days.

  Jackson: You okay?

  Ky: Yeah, my ribs copped a beating.

  Jackson: How?

  Ky: Not important.

  I think about DeLuca and that sly little nod he gave to Gunner before he bailed. It was just another way for him to get to me—and I sure as shit won’t let it happen again.

  Fuck Gunner.

  Fuck DeLuca.

  Fuck it all.

  Madison returns a moment later and puts her hand around my waist, helping me to stand and walk. I don’t need the help, but I take it anyway.

  Because she’s Madison.

  And I am, without a doubt, bat-shit crazy about her.

  ***

  She helps me to the couch and not a minute later there’s a knock on the door. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “Nope.”

  She opens the door to Jackson’s surprised face. They both turn to me. Jackson speaks first. “How bad is it?”

  “He already knows?” Madison asks, confusion clear in her tone.

  “Yeah,” Jackson answers after a momentary panic. “He asked for a recommendation for a doctor to check it out.”

  Madison’s eyes widen. “It’s that bad?”

  They both stalk toward me as if I’m an injured animal they need to assess. “Just precautionary.” I glare at Jackson. “I’m fine.”

  “I’ll get the ice,” Madison says, making her way to the kitchen.

  Jax sits next to me and kicks his legs up on the coffee table. “Playing house already. You’ve known her how long? A few days?”

  “Leave it alone, Jax.”

  “How much do you know about her?”

  “Enough.”

  Madison returns with an ice pack and sits on my other side. She lifts my shirt, completely ignoring the fact that Jackson is watching her intently. “It’s not looking so good,” she says, placing the pack on my right side.

  I flinch.

  She cringes. “We’ll stay in. I’ll get some menus.” She looks up at Jackson. “Did you want to stay for dinner?”

  He shakes his head. “I have a little work to do. Was just checking in on big bro.”

  She nods and stands back up. When she’s in the kitchen, far enough that she can’t hear us, Jax laughs. “Is she going for some bride speed record?”

  I chuckle. “Are you jealous?”

  “I’m serious, bro.” And the look on his face lets me know it. “Do you even know her last name?”

  “Why?”
I ask, incredulously. “Are you going to do a background check?”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “Maddy!” I shout, my eyes on Jax.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s your last name?”

  “Haynes.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Jackson.

  “Why?” she says, coming back over with a bunch of take-out menus.

  I shrug. “Just realized I didn’t know it.”

  She smiles awkwardly, her eyes flicking to Jackson before attempting to look busy with the menus.

  “So, a few days?” Jax asks.

  “At least three, I’d say.”

  “Okay. I’ll text you the number of my doctor. Get him to check it out,” he says, more for Madison’s ears than mine. He stands up. “Madison, good seeing you again.”

  She smiles, still awkward.

  “I’ll let myself out.”

  I watch him leave, and when he quietly shuts the door behind him, Madison says, “He hates me.” The sadness in her tone is palpable.

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Yeah, he does.”

  “He’s just protective.”

  “Of a girl?” She laughs.

  I shrug. “History.”

  ***

  Madison leans back on the couch after finishing dinner and pats her stomach twice. “I’m so full.”

  She laughs and rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m kind of happy you got the next few days off. It means we can hang out more.”

  “Oh,” I say, feigning disappointment. “I didn’t really plan on spending all that time off with you.”

  She swats my stomach with the back of her hand. The sharp pain in my ribs is instant. “Fuck.” I hold a hand to my side and hiss out a breath.

  She yelps, and then turns to me. “Shit, Ky. I’m sorry.”

  Eyes squeezed shut—I shake my head and bite my tongue. She whimpers and covers my hand with both of hers. “I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  I hold my breath and let the ache filter out of me. Her gaze focuses on my ribs; her lips turned down to a frown. She’s on the verge of tears.

  “Maddy,” I laugh, and then wince out in pain. “It’s fine. It was an accident.”

  She shakes her head, her gaze lifting to mine. “I should go.” She stands up quickly.

  I grab her arm to stop her. “No. Stay with me tonight.”

  “I’ll just hurt you more.”

  “No, you won’t. Stop being dramatic. Plus, what if I need your help to pee in the middle of the night? Do you really want to be the reason I wet the bed?”

  It’s supposed to be a joke, but she isn’t laughing. “It’s that bad?”

  “Yeah. Really bad.” I fake a grimace. “Please, Maddy, it hurts so damn much.”

  She narrows her eyes at me while I try to contain my laugh. “You could just ask, you know?” She leans down and kisses me quickly. “I’ll just grab some things and be right back.”

  ***

  She sits on her heels in my bed, looking down at me, gently tracing her finger down the dips of my abs. “What’s war like?”

  I rest my hands behind my head, savoring her touch. “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you think it changed you? The experience, I mean.”

  “Definitely.”

  “How?”

  I reach for her hand and kiss her wrist, then rest it on my chest. “I don’t know. When I left, I was just pissed off at the world. I thought I’d learned enough during boot camp—but it was nothing compared to actually being there. You see some bad shit—shit no one should ever have to see...but I think the biggest thing that changed me was meeting my brothers.”

  “Jackson and Steven?”

  “No, I mean my squad brothers. They all had different reasons for enlisting. My buddy Hunter—he lost his dad in 9/11. Montoya—he enlisted to honor his family. Generations of men in his family were soldiers. You’d think that the pressure would suck—but he didn’t hate it like I probably would have. He was proud. I mean, they were all proud to be there, you know? Me?” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I was there because I felt sorry for myself. Because I wanted to run away from reality—a reality that wasn’t all that bad—not compared to war.”

  “Do you regret it though?”

  “Not for a second,” I say quickly. “Do I regret my reason for joining? Yes. But I wouldn’t take it back.”

  “Is that part of the reason you won’t see Christine?”

  I inhale a sharp breath, ignoring the discomfort in my ribs. “She didn’t know I was going, Maddy. I never told her or Jax. I packed my shit in the middle of the night and left them a note.” A bitter laugh bubbles out of me. “A stupid note. Like it would make up for my actions. Truthfully—I’m too embarrassed to face her.”

  “You think she’d still care about that? I’m sure she’d just want to see you—know that you’re alive and well.”

  “Maybe,” I tell her. “But that doesn’t take away the shame.”

  She smiles sadly before getting under the covers and resting her head on my shoulder. “Ky?”

  “Yeah?”

  She stays quiet a beat before whispering, “Do you think you’ll go back? Re-deploy?”

  I let my thoughts gather into words, and then I tell her the truth. “That used to be my plan. I didn’t think there was anything here worth staying for.”

  “And now?”

  I tilt her head up and kiss her once, letting my lips linger. “And now I have you.”

  “You have me,” she repeats, smiling against my lips. She pulls away. “Will you tell me about her?”

  “Who?”

  “Christine.”

  I stare up at the ceiling—memories of Christine filling my mind. “She’s badass.”

  She chuckles. “Badass?”

  “Yeah. She grew up on this farm—was raised by her dad. She kind of reminds me of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. She’s super sweet. Seems super innocent. Bakes cookies and crafts and stuff, but then she has this badass side to her. Like, she knows how to carry a gun and isn’t afraid to use it.”

  “I hate guns,” she says quickly.

  I jerk my head up—surprised by her words. “You hate guns? Why?”

  She rears back, eyes wide, like she regrets spilling that tiny piece of her. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  I sigh, dropping my head back on the pillow. “You do that a lot, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “You avoid talking about anything related to you. You do it all the time. Or you change the subject. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

  She turns to her side, facing away from me. “Good night, Ky.”

  “Really? Are you going to ignore me?

  She starts to shuffle out of bed. “I’m going home.”

  “No.” I ignore the shooting pain and reach over to her, bringing her back down. “Just stay. Forget I said anything.”

  She turns around, her eyes on mine. The pleading look on my face must be enough reason to get her back in bed. “We both have secrets, Ky,” she says, rolling onto her back.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “You ask a million questions and I answer all of them.”

  She sighs loudly, resting her head back on my shoulder.

  I calm myself down, feeling the tension in my muscles slowly releasing.

  “It’s been a shitty day, Ky. We should get some sleep before we both say or do something stupid. We’ll forget about all of this in the morning.”

  MADISON

  I saw the hurt in his eyes and I almost told him everything.

  Almost.

  But then...where the hell would I even start?

  16

  KY

  “KY.”

  I feel something on my face and slap it away.

  “Ky!”

  Now my cheek’s being poked. I groan and grab Madison’s hand.

>   She laughs, trying to yank it from my hold.

  Her smile’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes. “What?”

  The smile turns to a pout.

  “Don’t pout. It’s annoying,” I lie.

  Her face falls. “I’m annoying?” She reaches up with her free hand to poke my face again.

  I push her hand away. “Yes, you’re annoying.”

  She pouts again.

  I roll my eyes.

  “I just wanted to feel how deep your dimples are,” she murmurs. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “No. I’m mad at myself because I should be mad at you, but I can’t be. And I’m frustrated because I want to kiss you so bad right now, but you don’t deserve it.”

  “Ky?”

  “Mm?”

  She leans over me. Her gaze flicks between my lips to my eyes, and back again. Then she smiles, moves down, and presses her lips to mine.

  “You’re evil,” I tell her.

  She doesn’t skip a beat, just kisses me again. Once. Twice. And by the third time, I’ve already given in to her.

  She pulls away, leaving me craving more. “Another one,” I ask.

  “With pleasure.” She laughs.

  ***

  Once we’ve finished eating breakfast and she’s cleaned up after us, she grabs the frame she bought yesterday and sits on the couch next to me. Making sure not to hurt me, she leans into me and rests her hand on my chest. “What do you think their story is?” she asks.

  I look at the picture in the frame. This couple’s younger than the last. They’re on the dock at a lake. The girl’s sitting across the guy’s lap, and they’re holding each other, smiling, like the world’s never shown them an ounce of tragedy or regret.

  I laugh once. “High school sweethearts. For sure.”

  I can see her watching me from the corner of my eye, but I keep my gaze on the picture.

  “You think?” she asks.

  “Yeah. You can see it in their smiles. Reality hasn’t kicked their ass yet.”

  She shifts beside me “She looks like Ashlee.”

  My eyes snap to hers. “How do you—”

  She moves back and away from me. Then stutters, “I—I was on—on your iPad yesterday and I clicked on this blue thing with the letter F—”