Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series)

by J. B. Salsbury

  His eyes drop to his phone. He punches in numbers then brings it to his ear. “Killian. It’s Blake. Listen, you take Axelle home today?”

  I move in close and lean my ear toward the phone. Blake’s arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. Gosh, that feels good. I nuzzle in, dropping my worry for what he might think the action implies, and soak up his comfort.

  Killian’s voice mumbles through the cell phone, but I can’t understand a word. I peer up at Blake. “What’s he saying? I can’t hear him.” Panic throbs behind my ribs.

  “You sure about that?” The arm around my shoulder pulls me tighter, and he nods. “Right. Thanks, man.”

  He ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket.

  “What?” I pull back and cross my arms over my stomach, suddenly freezing cold. “Did he take her home?”

  “Let’s sit.” He moves me into the living room and sits on the couch.

  “I don’t want to sit, Blake.” Why do I need to sit? My head gets light, and my teeth chatter. “Is it bad? Are you afraid I’ll pass out? Just tell me, I’m freaking out here.”

  “Come here.” He holds out his hand.

  I don’t move.

  “Everything’s okay, just come here.”

  Closing the space between us, I grab his hand and he pulls me onto his lap.

  The thought that I’m sitting on Blake’s lap in my living room tickles at the back of my mind, but the thought is shoved aside by my panic. “There. Now tell me what’s going on?”

  He pushes my hair over my shoulder and lets his hand rest against my back. “Killian didn’t take her home today.”

  “What!” I push off Blake’s lap, but he grabs my hips and pulls me back down.

  “Sweetheart, calm down. You’re not doing your girl any favors by freakin’ the fuck out.”

  “Okay, fine. Just tell me where she is.”

  “He said she’s been hanging out with some different kids lately.”

  Different kids?

  “Guess she’s been ditching Killian after school and getting rides from a girl named Brooklyn.”

  “Brooklyn. I’ve never heard her talk about any girl named Brooklyn.” She talks about a group of girls she’s made friends with, but they go see movies and go out for ice cream. “So she’s probably with her. Did Killian give you a number?”

  A slight grimace twists his mouth. “Problem is, Killian doesn’t hang with that crew. According to him, they’re troublemakers.”

  I feel my expression fall and my jaw go slack. My stomach turns and sours. “Oh no.”

  “She’ll be fine, Mouse.” He sounds so sure. How can he be so sure? “But sounds like you girls need to have a mother-daughter heart-to-heart.”

  I shake my head. “She doesn’t listen to me. She hates me.”

  “Impossible.”

  “No, I’m serious.” I groan and pinch closed my eyes. “It’s too late. I’ve lost her.”

  He hooks my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look in his eyes. “It’s never too late.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “I do. My dad’s a dick of epic proportions. He’s never been anything but a dick. Ever. You love your girl, she’s gotta feel it. She’s pissed. She’ll get over it. But she needs you. Do not give up on her.”

  I stare at his handsome face, absorbing his words said with so much conviction it’s impossible not to believe him.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  He runs his hand up my back. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “She’s rebellious. She makes bad choices. I don’t want her to end up…” I exhale and fight the guilt that wells up at what I’m about to say. “Like me.”

  “There are worse things than ending up like you, Mouse. I’m sure you talk to her, you’ll—Click.

  The sound of the front door has us both on our feet. I rush to the kitchen to see Elle stumbling in through the door.

  She sways on her feet, jiggling the door handle. “Stupid fucking keeeey.”

  Worry and relief fuel my anger, and I cross the kitchen to get in her face. “Are you drunk?”

  My question sends her body around so fast that she falls back against the wall. Her bloodshot eyes, rimmed in an obnoxious amount of black eyeliner, go wide over my shoulder. The heat of Blake’s presence behind me and his support make me stand taller. He literally has my back. “Answer me.”

  Her sloppy eyes slide to mine. “Chill, Momma, chill.”

  “Aw, fuck,” he murmurs for only my ears.

  Aw fuck is right.

  “It’s nine o’clock. On a school night.” There’s so much I want to say, but my mind scrambles to grasp just one coherent thought. “It’s not safe, Axelle. You’re a child, and you’re drunk. I trusted you.”

  She glares at me and pushes off the wall. “Yeah, and I trusted you.”

  That doesn’t make any sense. It must be the drunk talking. “Go to bed. You’re not making any sense.”

  Her head rolls around on her shoulders. “Really, Mom? How about the fact that you sat on your ass. Doing nothing. Make sense?”

  “What are you talking about?” I throw my arm out to indicate our home. “I’ve been working my butt off.”

  She steps up, putting her nose just inches from my face. “Maybe you need to work harder.”

  I blink through the stench of liquor on her breath when I feel Blake’s bicep press against my shoulder.

  Damn, he’s hearing all this. He needs to leave. I need to end this. “Go sleep it off, Axelle. You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

  For a second her eyes clear and she gives me a biting, deep-blue glare. “Don’t I?” She coughs up a laugh. “Not a baby anymore, Momma. All those years… you thought I didn’t know?” With a slow swipe of her eyes from my head to my ankles and back, she smiles. “You’re so fucking pathetic.”

  “Enough.” Blake steps between us. “Bed. Now.” He grabs Elle’s arm and drags her to the mouth of the short hallway.

  She rips her arm from his hold. “Fine, He-Man. That’s what I was gonna do anyway.” Her body ping-pongs down the hallway to her room, where she slams the door behind her with a muttered curse.

  I stand there stunned but not at all surprised to hear her voice her feelings. I assumed she felt that way. Doesn’t make hearing it from her mouth any easier, though. It also doesn’t help that those exact words flowed from Stewart’s mouth frequently, oftentimes in front of her. Despite all my efforts to shield her from the ugliness of our life, she managed to have a front-row seat to the worst of it.

  Blake’s standing with his back to me. His hands are on his hips, his face pointed to the floor. Shame and anger funnel within me. If I didn’t hate Stewart enough already, I despise him now.

  I was convinced that leaving would solve my problems. But geographical distance doesn’t mean shit when the poison is imbedded so deep within that it’s become part of us. The destruction he left behind sabotages not only our relationship with each other, but ultimately our future.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that.” There has to be something more I can say, something more poignant, but that’s all I can manage.

  Words of eloquence were never your strong suit.

  Fuck you, Stewart.

  Blake faces me, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that’s hard to look at. “She’s drunk. I’m sure she didn’t mean—”

  “I deserved it.”

  “No, Mouse. You didn’t.”

  The loathing creeps in. My own destructive thoughts attack what little self-esteem I’ve managed to build. “You don’t know me.”

  He dissolves the space between us. “I want to know you. Tell me.”

  He has no idea what he’s asking. Busting the locks and tearing the chains off the vault that stores all my humiliation would be like reliving it. I’m not strong enough.

  “I’m not doing this. Not with you. Not now.” I storm past him into the hallway and to my room. My
eyes burn, but not with sadness as much as frustration. Because I’d give anything to purge my soul of the ugly secrets I’m hiding. I kick the door shut with my foot but swing around when I don’t hear it slam. I should have known.

  Blake’s big body stands in the doorway. “Yes, you are.”

  I lean toward him and point in his face. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “No, you’re right. Don’t do it ’cause I’m telling you to. Do it because it’ll help.”

  “Leave.” I force an edge in my voice.

  His lips twitch, and his eyes lock on mine as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “Sweetheart, you don’t scare me. Don’t forget, I saw your moves earlier tonight. That shit will not get past me again. So you yell, take it out on me, I can take it. But when you’re done, you’re going to talk. You feel me?”

  Blake

  She stares at me, unblinking. The long, thick waves of her hair drape her face. No make-up, tired eyes, and yet she’s strikingly beautiful.

  I’m in so much trouble. I know I should back out of here, climb in my car, point it towards home, and never look back. But if there is one thing I’m sure of, more sure of than my own name, it’s that in this moment nothing could drag me away.

  “If you knew the things that I put her through…” Her whispered words taper off, and she drops her chin.

  “I don’t know much, sweetheart, but from what you’ve told me about…”—fuck, I can’t say the asshole’s name—“him, whatever you did, it was so you could survive.”

  She lifts her face to lock eyes with me.

  “If a man murders for the sake of enjoying the kill, that’s homicide. Punishable by death. But if a man murders to protect his family, that’s justice. Commendable. Same crime, but circumstances decide whether it’s right or wrong.” I give it a second to sink in.

  With her shoulders slumped, she sits on the edge of her bed. I study her small room. Tan carpet, beige walls, the only color in the place is Layla’s bright red bed comforter and orange and yellow pillows.

  I lean against her dresser, making sure to keep my distance, because I know if I get too close, I won’t be able to keep from pulling her into my arms. Silence is thick in the air, but so is her contemplation. Her fingers knot in her hair, and her eyes dart around the room.

  I wait her out.

  “I put myself through hell because I thought I was doing the right thing for Elle. For years, I bit my tongue and grinned, hoping to give her the illusion of a good life.” She pulls at her hair. “God, I was so wrong.”

  As much as I want to comfort her and tell her that we all make mistakes, the guilt and pain she feels seems deeper than any words can fix.

  “I never wanted it,” she says to her lap, so quietly I barely hear her. “Not one time. Not the first, not the last, and not the times in between.”

  I grind my molars together and clench my hands into fists. I’ve got to calm down. This is what I asked for. Don’t fuck it up now by blowing shit up in here.

  “He’d hold me down, cover my face with his hand or a pillow.” Her hand slides up to cup her neck. “I couldn’t breathe. As bad as it felt and as scared as I was, that’s the thing I remember most. His chest pressing down against my ribs or my back while he took me over and over—”

  A fierce growl fills the room. Her wide eyes dart to mine. Shit.

  “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “Go on.” Damn. That sounded more like a threat than a gentle nudge.

  She nods, but keeps her eyes on me. “He told me if I made a noise, any noise at all, Elle would hear. As hard as it was to be smothered, I welcomed it. To the verge of almost passing out, but I’d do it to protect her.” She looks away. “I’ve made so many mistakes. Every choice I made was because I thought it was best for her. Turns out I—ugh.” Rubbing her face, she shakes her head.

  That’s enough fucking soul baring for the night. I can’t take another word. Years of sexual abuse by the man who was supposed to be her fucking protector, her failsafe, the man whose job it was to stand guard against the rest of the world to make sure, to guarantee, that his woman was safe and protected. I rub my eyes hard, breathing deeply and counting to ten.

  …nine…ten. “Mouse, you and Axelle have been through some shit. You may have walked away from all that, but you’re still feeling it, and it’s clear she’s still feeling it.”

  She takes an audible breath.

  I cross the space between us and kneel in front of her. “There’s a place. It’s only for women, and I think you two could, I don’t know, talk to someone.”

  “Like counseling?”

  “Yeah, kinda like that.”

  She shakes her head. “My insurance doesn’t kick in for another two months, and paying out of pocket isn’t—”

  “It won’t cost you—”

  “No, Blake. I can’t accept any more charity from you. You’ve done enough with the car.”

  Fucking Raven. That was supposed to stay a secret. Chicks always stick together.

  “Seems I need to have a talk about what it means to keep a secret with Mrs. Slade.”

  “I wanted to thank you for that, but you were avoiding me. And when I saw you in the weight room, well…” Her cheeks and neck flush red.

  “Well? You took me out with that kickass flying knee.”

  Her soft giggle penetrates the room along with my chest, spreading warmth behind my ribs. “I had to teach you a lesson.”

  I chuckle. “Fuck, Mouse. Next time give me a three count… final warning… something.”

  The sound of our laughter swirls around us, and in a moment of delirium, I can’t help but think we laugh well together.

  I place my hand on her knee and squeeze. “Raven went through some shit last year. She opened a non-profit place called Raven’s Nest. They provide this kind of stuff to women and kids who’ve been through similar shit. It’s free.”

  Her thick eyelashes flutter over her glistening eyes, and she nods.

  “I could make a call—”

  “I’ll do it.” Her reply comes out quickly, as if she’d made up her mind a while ago. “Raven and I are going out this weekend. I’ll talk to her then.”

  They’re going out? Cool. “Okay.”

  I stand up and step back. Being so close to her, in her bedroom while she’s sitting on the bed, is doing fucked-up things to my body. As much as I want to stay, to crawl into bed and hold her in my arms while she sleeps, I know I need to bolt. Get the fuck out before I say or do something I can’t take back.

  “You cool?”

  She stands and gathers her hair together, pulling the wavy locks in a bunch over one shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Elle’s out for the night, I’m sure. She’ll have me to face in the morning, along with a nasty hangover.”

  Digging my hands deep into my pockets so that I don’t use them to pull her closer or tip her mouth toward mine, I step toward her bedroom door. “You have my number. Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time.”

  We move to her front door, and the air crackles with expectation. Not going to kiss her, not going to kiss her.

  I pull open the door and step out. “Goodnight.”

  She stands in the doorway, her hands shoved in her sweatshirt pockets. “Goodnight, Blake. Thanks again. I don’t know what I would’ve done tonight if you hadn’t come by.”

  “What are friends for?” Shit. That sucked. “See you tomorrow.”

  I turn and head to my car before she closes the door. If I stand there for another second, I’m not going to be responsible for what kind of naked happens next.

  She’s got an ugly past, a teenage kid who’s working through some crap, and a serious case of the emotional yo-yos. The whole situation screams trouble. Annoyance. Waste of time.

  But all I hear is, Don’t let her go.

  Thirteen

  Blake

  “You’re kickin’ ass, man. I’ve never seen you so quick.” Rex sidles up to me at my loc
ker. “Been sparring partners for what, seven years? You’re in the best shape of your life.”

  I shrug it off like it’s no big deal, but inside I’m celebrating. I’ve been busting my ass to get in shape for this fight. Winning this fight against Wade puts me up for title contention. And there’s no way I’ll accept anything less than a victory.

  “Fuck three weeks. You fought Wade tonight, he’d be KO’d first round.”

  “Thanks, man. And sorry about…” I motion to the purple bruise on his ribs that’s starting to take on some pretty nasty red tones.

  That crazy fucker looks down and rubs his hand along the injury, pushing in and wincing. “Nah. That was a perfect middle roundhouse. Shit felt good.” He’s smiling like he means it.

  I shake my head, grinning. “You’re a crazy motherfucker.”

  Throwing on my clothes with a mean endorphin buzz, my mind wanders back to Layla. Things are getting hectic with the fight coming up and the promotional stuff that has Gibbs’s ass in a twist. I’m sure these things have been keeping her locked in her office. It’s not unusual that I’d go a day without seeing her, but I thought she’d come find me today.

  I hope like hell she and Axelle had a good talk this morning. It took everything I had not to drive to her apartment and hide out, listening for breaking glass and girlie screams.

  I would’ve done it if I hadn’t kept myself up all night going over all the reasons why I can’t get involved. Her shit has nothing to do with me, and I got more involved than I should’ve last night. Dragging Axelle to the hallway when she disrespected her mom was probably a step farther than I should’ve gone. But hell if I was going to stand there and listen to someone call my woman pathetic.

  My woman? My friend. Not my woman.

  Sleep deprivation has my mind stumbling over itself. I head out and check the clock on the wall in the training center. It’s almost five, and I haven’t seen her once. I change direction and walk back toward the offices. My feet move faster at the prospect of seeing her, and I mentally smack myself for breaking under the anticipation.

  Don’t get involved. Just ask her how things went this morning. That’s a reasonable question. A friendly question.