The Final Fight (Fighting Series Book 8)

by J. B. Salsbury

  . . . I won’t have to face it alone.

  Gently, to keep from waking him, I press a feather-soft kiss to his lips. He rolls them together, and his tongue slides out as if to taste what I left on his mouth. He uncurls his fist at my belly enough so his palm brushes the sensitive skin before his eyes flutter open. They’re a little puffy from sleep, making him look almost innocent, but the smile that follows is far from harmless.

  I roll to my side to face him. “Good morning.”

  “’Morning.” His gaze travels slowly around my face; his smile widens. “So, last night wasn’t a dream.”

  “Nope.”

  He moves his bad hand to my hip, hissing through his teeth when his arm doesn’t extend all the way. I scoot closer, straightening my legs to erase as much distance between us as possible. His hand grasps my hip. “You sleep alright?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.”

  A few seconds of silence pass between us.

  “Braeden? Are we gonna talk about last night or just keep bullshitting each other with small talk?”

  He barks with laughter and rolls to his back, taking me with him so that I’m lying with the upper half of my body on his. “Not even coffee first, we’re jumping right into this, huh?”

  “If that’s alright, yeah.”

  His good hand sifts through my hair, which is probably a mess from all the rolling around we did. “I was going to make you pancakes.”

  “You still can.” My finger traces a pattern on his chest. “Unless you’re kicking me out.” My stomach tosses with unease. I know I shouldn’t assume that we’re officially together because of last night, but he did say he loves me and I love him too, so . . .

  He runs his teeth along his lower lip, studying me, and his expression hardens. “I’m never kicking you out, muffin. Not out of my bed. Not out of my house. Not out of my life.”

  “Does that mean . . .?” I fight the smile that’s forcing my lips. “Are you saying we’re a couple? Like, officially?”

  His dark eyebrows drop low over those molten green eyes. “Depends. What do you want, AJ? Where do you see yourself down the road? ’Cause I gotta tell you I’m an open-ended rollercoaster without a lot of prospects.”

  “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing. I have no clue what I’m doing, what I’ll do with the rest of my life. I need to find a job. I have a little money saved up but nothing to brag about.”

  “Well, fuck. Aren’t we the perfect pair? Luckily, I have plenty of money saved thanks to the United States Military, but I’ll need to hit the job market too and . . .” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know he’s worried about his arm. He tucks my hair behind my ear and repeats the motion, smoothing the locks against my neck. “You want to take a leap of faith with me? As much as you’ve helped me in the last few weeks, I’m feeling pretty good about our odds.”

  “Yeah, well, you helped me too.”

  He tilts his head and glares. “No, I didn’t. That was Richie Rich, muffin. I didn’t do shit when you needed me. That’ll be something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

  I drop a kiss to his chest. “When I got promoted and ran myself into the ground, you didn’t swoop in and take care of me. You helped me help myself. You supported me so that I could accomplish my goals, Brae. That’s what I want. Andre isn’t a bad person, but he’s a fixer. He pulled me from my life, and because I thought I had nowhere else to go, I blindly followed him. But I never felt content, never felt at peace with where I was or what I was doing. I’ll always appreciate Andre for what he did for me, but he’s not who I want.”

  “What if you’re making a mistake? What if you chose wrong and—?”

  I press two fingers to his lips. “Shhh. Leap of faith, remember?”

  He kisses my fingers until I release him to speak. “That’s it then. We’re in this together for the long haul.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you won’t—?”

  The door to the pool house swings open. “Bro, wake the fuck up—whoa!” Blake covers his eyes and whirls around, slamming straight into a wall. “Ow, dammit to shit!”

  I scurry to cover my naked body with a sheet while Braeden chuckles. “You ever consider knockin’, asshole?”

  Blake holds up his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see AJ’s car out front, so I assumed—shit, sorry. I just wanted to tell you we’re home and Mom put out a mean spread if you two are hungry.”

  I’m neck deep in sheets when Blake moves out of the room with one arm fully extended forward to avoid another face plant into the drywall.

  The door closes and Braeden mumbles, “I need to get my own place,” before standing up and crossing to his dresser.

  I study the scarring on his right ass cheek, noting how it bleeds down to his upper thigh. God, that had to have been so painful. All too soon, he’s pulling on a pair of black workout shorts. I slide my eyes to the other side of the room before I get caught.

  “You could move in with me.” The second the words are out of my mouth I cringe. Too soon. Too soon!

  He’s standing stock still, his gaze boring into mine. “You serious?”

  “I know, stupid.” I rub my forehead, trying to hide my embarrassment. “It’s too soon.”

  “No. I don’t think it is. I’m not in a hurry to get out of here, so let’s see where things go, but, babe, I’d love to know we’re coming home to the same place every night. I want to fall asleep with you at my side and know you’ll be there when I wake up in the morning.”

  “Really?” I’m grinning so wide it hurts.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, we’ll give it some time, but not too much time.”

  “Deal.” A few thick seconds stretch between us until he blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “Alright, muff, it’s your call. You want to eat with the Daniels clan or pancakes in bed here, just the two of us.”

  “I guess that depends.” I shimmy to sit up, keeping the sheet to my neck. “If we stay over here—why are you looking at me like that?”

  He looks angry or maybe concerned?

  He nods to the sheet. “What’re you doing?”

  My grip on the fabric tightens, but I play dumb. “What does it look like? I’m discussing our breakfast options with you.”

  “You know what I mean, AJ. Why are you hiding from me?”

  I blow a wayward hair from my face. “I’m not as confident as I used to be. I guess . . . I might be afraid of what you see when you look at me.”

  His gaze goes to his right side, and he flexes his arm. “I think I know what that feels like.”

  I feel like an ass for saying anything, but I won’t lie to Braeden. If we’re really going to give us a shot, I won’t start off with dishonesty.

  He moves to me and drops a hip to the bed. Pushing my hair off my shoulder, he traces my collarbone. “I’m going to make it my life’s mission to remind you how sexy you are. Every fucking day. You’ll get so sick of hearing it, and before you know it, you’ll be parading that gorgeous ass around naked again.”

  “That’s, ah . . . an ambitious goal.”

  He drops his hand from me and smiles. “It’ll happen. Now, breakfast.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  He kisses my shoulder. “I’ll go get us two plates and bring it back here. Grab a tee and make yourself at home.”

  He snags a shirt off the dresser and pulls it on then slips a baseball hat on.

  “Wait.”

  He was on his way to the door but stops at the foot of the bed. Mustering up all the courage I can find, I allow the sheet to slip from my torso and crawl completely naked toward him. It’s hard to tell under his cap, but I can see his eyes flare with what I assume is either shock or hunger. On my knees with my heart hammering in my chest, I push back my fears of what he’ll think of my softer belly, rounder hips, and worse, my scars. I snag his shirt and tug him forward then slide his hat off his head and push my hand up to l
ay my palm against his scarred ribs. “I’m not the only one who doesn’t need to cover up.”

  He shrugs one shoulder and his cheeks flush. “People are eating. I’m just being respectful.”

  My heart cracks at the thought that he feels he’s so repulsive he’d ruin someone’s appetite. “They are your family, Brae. They love you. And trust me when I say that the people who love you only see you, not the scars.”

  He nods, but doesn’t look at all convinced. I press a hot, wet kiss to his mouth and then pop the hat on his head. “In time, maybe we’ll both start seeing ourselves a little more clearly.”

  He tilts his head to keep from bopping me with the bill of his hat and kisses my neck. “I’ll be right back, muffin. And I changed my mind about the shirt. I want you bare when I get back.”

  I giggle and shove him away then grab the sheet. “Now you’re pushing your luck.”

  “Stay naked, woman!” He moves through the door.

  “No!”

  And even after the door shuts I hear, “Naked!”

  ~*~

  Braeden

  I hear the chatter in the kitchen when I slide open the back door of my brother’s house. The smell of cinnamon rolls, a variety of breakfast meats, and coffee has my stomach growling. When I turn the corner, the room falls silent and all eyes swing toward me.

  I halt movement and stare back. “What?” I pat my chest and thighs. “I’m not naked, am I?” I know exactly why they’re staring: my brother blabbed and now everyone’s waiting to see if I’ll fess up about AJ.

  Well, they’re going to have to keep on waiting because it’s none of their fucking business.

  “Good morning, Brae?” Layla says through a smile then sips her coffee to hide it.

  I grab two plates and start filling them with food. “One of the best, Layla. Thanks for asking. This all looks so good, who cooked?”

  No one answers because I know it was my mom; this spread is her typical holiday and/or special occasion set-up.

  “You want me to pour you two coffees and juices to-go?” My mom’s already pulling mugs and glasses down from the cabinets.

  “That’s cool, Mom, thanks.”

  Layla slides over a tray and places napkins and silverware on it while my mom puts the drinks—

  “Oh, just tell us!!” Layla blows out a breath like she’d been holding it in for ten minutes.

  I pop a piece of bacon in my mouth. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  Blake groans, drops his chin, and shakes his head, mumbling, “He’ll never learn.”

  “Daddy said you have a girl in your house.” Jack doesn’t look up from the two cars he’s crashing together on the countertop.

  I fluff his morning bed head. “I do have a girl at my house, buddy.”

  “Daddy told Mom . . .” He uses his forearm to wipe his nose. “Daddy told her to stay out of it.”

  I lift a brow toward my brother. “Appreciate the effort, bro.”

  “You guys are serious, right?” Layla’s leaning across the kitchen island like she’ll pounce and pull the info from me if I don’t offer it up willingly. “I could tell last night you’re totally in love with her.”

  “Mouse,” Blake says in warning.

  “What?” She glares at her husband.

  “Mind your own business, baby.”

  My mom reaches over and helps me stack the dishes on the tray. “You’re going to marry her, aren’t you, Brae?”

  “Mom!” I stare at the woman, stunned by her forwardness. “Seriously. Who are you?”

  She shrugs. “Just answer the question.”

  “Yeah.” Layla leans in further. “Answer the question.”

  I look to my brother for help, but he simply shakes his head, and Jack’s so involved in his car wreck he’s no help at all.

  “You guys are nosey.” I pull a couple of bottled waters from the fridge and slide them into the loose pockets of my shorts. “But yes, I plan on marrying AJ if she’ll have me.”

  I expect the room to erupt in girlie squeals, but instead my mom and Layla both hold their palms out to Blake. “Pay up.”

  “Hold the fudge on! You made a bet on whether I’d get my AJ back?” My AJ. I love the way that sounds.

  “Blake thought you’d scare her off.” Layla wiggles her fingers at Blake while he pulls bills from his pocket. “Your mom and I knew better.”

  I point at my brother. “Backstabber!”

  His wife shoves the cash in her pocket then rubs his back. “It’s not his fault. He’s not a natural charmer like you, Brae.”

  He looks down at her. “Managed to charm you just fine, Mouse.”

  “Right. After you accused me of being a stripper.” She laughs and looks at me. “Brae would never say something so insulting to a woman.”

  I suppose this wouldn’t be the ideal time to tell them I assumed AJ was a hooker when we first met. Nah . . . I’ll keep that to myself. “She’s right. I’m pure effin’ class.”

  “You’re an effin ass is what you are.” Blake goes back to his coffee.

  “This family is sick.” I pick Jack’s car up from the floor and hand it to him. “Run before it’s too late, little man. You’re still cute; someone will adopt you.”

  I’m grabbing the last few items for my tray to get back to AJ when they go back to gabbing about whatever it was they were gabbing about when I walked in.

  “I still don’t see why he won’t ask Braeden,” my mom whispers to Blake.

  “Ask me what?” Steadying the tray in my hands, I marvel at how just weeks ago I would’ve never attempted something like this. Thanks to AJ, the possibility of regaining full use of my arm seems more likely.

  “After the success of the charity event, Cam wants to make helping the injured heroes an everyday-type thing. He was going to donate tickets and money, but he wants something hands on, something that’ll impact the community rather than just throwing money at an organization.”

  “Like what?”

  Blake shrugs. “I don’t know. He wants to brainstorm ideas tomorrow. Mom thinks you should come along, but I know how you hate all that injured heroes—”

  “I’ll go.”

  He glares. “Really? ’Cause it’s cool if you don’t.”

  “No, I want to.”

  Have you ever had a moment in life where everything freezes? It’s as if the planets and stars align and a world of opportunity opens at your feet, daring you to jump in?

  This was one of those moments.

  I stare out the back door toward the pool house. “I think I might have an idea.”

  Epilogue

  Four months later . . .

  Braeden

  It’s strange to think we’re in a whole different state. Parked in front of a humble two-story home in the suburbs of Albuquerque, it doesn’t feel all that different from Las Vegas.

  We spent the weekend in Dallas, visiting AJ’s parents, who’re doing well now that her dad got a job and her mom got a pay raise. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get Mr. Pines alone yesterday, and over a beer, I asked if I could marry his daughter. He gave me his blessing, and I had about twelve hours to celebrate before we had to hop on a flight. This is our last stop before we head home to Vegas, whether by car or plane has yet to be determined.

  The midafternoon sun is warm, and a mild breeze blows through the windows of our rental car. My hands flex on the steering wheel as I stare at the modest-sized white house with yellow trim.

  AJ sits in the passenger seat, silent as always when I’m dealing with ghosts from my past, but lending me her support still.

  “You think he’ll be pissed?” I ask the breeze.

  “Probably.”

  My AJ is never one to candy coat shit. “He may refuse to see me.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  I turn to her then, finding comfort in her warm hazel eyes. She reaches out and holds my hand. My right hand. I grip hers back.

  “Alright. Let’s get this over
with.” I push open the door and wait for her to meet me on the sidewalk. I grab her hand, and we walk up the paved pathway to the door together.

  I ring the doorbell, clear my throat, and swallow as my stomach does summersaults behind my ribs. A click of the lock and AJ squeezes my hand tighter, making me stand up straighter as her confidence feeds mine.

  The door opens to a woman I assume is Deacon’s mother. She’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, and her short hair is tucked behind her ears. Her eyes take me in and widen on the right side of my face.

  I realize too late that I should’ve given her my good side, but that’s something I’m forgetting to do more and more these days. “Hi, uh . . . I’m Braeden Daniels.”

  Her expression falls, and she continues to stare, saying nothing.

  “I’m a friend of Deacon’s. I served with him in—”

  “Yes.” She smiles, but it’s small and shaky. “I know who you are. Please, come in.”

  AJ gives my hand another squeeze, propelling me forward. “This is my girlfriend, AJ.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” AJ says.

  “You too.” She smiles warmly at AJ, and I wonder how long it’s been since she’s had visitors.

  “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this. We tried to call, but it said the line was disconnected.”

  “No, this is fine.” She straightens pillows on the couch and grabs some dirty dishes off the coffee table. “I’m sorry for the mess.”

  “No worries, is, uh . . . is Deacon here?”

  Her expression is etched with pain and worry, something I recognize immediately as I’ve seen it in the faces of my own family members. “Yes, he is.” She motions for us to follow her to the kitchen where she sets down the dishes and then to a hallway. “It’ll be so good for him to see you. I haven’t been able to get him to do much since he’s been home.”

  Sounds familiar.

  When she reaches the end of the hallway, the sound of heavy metal music filters from the other side of a closed door.

  She knocks. “Deacon, honey? You have visitors.”

  The music turns down. “What?”

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “Unless it’s Mila Kunis here to give me a sponge bath with a happy ending, send ’em home.”