Flow (The Beat and the Pulse #6)

by Amity Cross

  Like I was stuck on autopilot, my gaze flickered over his shoulder and out into the crowd. I was looking for my Irish savior, the man who’d promised the world to me even though he’d said we were done.

  As if on cue, Hamish appeared through the crowd, and for one bright, hopeful moment, I almost believed he was coming over to help rid me of the annoying leech that was stuck in front of me…but he just glanced away and kept walking. A day ago, he would’ve come over and smashed Storm’s face into the bar for ignoring his warning to stay away, but now, it was like I’d never existed. I’d gone back to being the invisible woman behind the bar in the space of a day, and it hurt like hell.

  “That was cold,” Storm drawled.

  I narrowed my eyes, not giving him the pleasure of a reply.

  “He thinks I hit you,” he said.

  I glanced at Storm, confused to the max. “What? Why? I never said…”

  “I know. I know you’d never say anything like that. He jumped to his own conclusions. I don’t blame him really.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, my hands curling around the edge of the bar.

  “I don’t know what the fuck that was,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to where Hamish had been standing not a minute before. “But he really had a screw loose when he thought I’d gone out and slapped you one.”

  I felt my facade begin to crumble as I realized the gravity of what I’d messed up. It was like a giant asteroid had slammed into the surface of my heart, knocking the fickle organ out of alignment. The surface temperature was plummeting, and all life that had clung to it was becoming extinct.

  “Lori, I—”

  “Don’t,” I said, holding up my hand to stop him. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. I couldn’t take another jab where it hurt, not tonight.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my wits before I crumbled in public for all to see. I remembered the night I’d walked in on Storm and those women, and I allowed the pain and humiliation to wash over me. All I’d done was turn and run…but no one was chasing me. I’d just turned off all the emotions inside my heart and got on with life because that’s what I’d thought I was supposed to do. It was the exact same thing I was trying to do in the wake of Hamish.

  What I should’ve done all that time ago was get mad. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do now, but one part of the problem was standing in front of me.

  Opening my eyes, I fixed on Storm and took a deep breath.

  “I need you to do something for me,” I said, staring at him.

  “Which is?”

  “If you really care for me like you claim, then you’ll respect my wishes and keep your distance. This…” I pointed to him, and then back at me. “This isn’t helping. You need to move on, and so do I. I can’t do that if you’re constantly in my face, and neither can you. Capiche?”

  Storm’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

  I sighed and turned my gaze down toward the top of the bar. When a thick finger wedged the hundred-dollar note under my palm, my breath caught. I was frozen in limbo—half relieved, half offended. Pride was stopping me from taking the money, not some twisted form of self-love. Money was like candy to fighters in this place. Taking money from them was akin to some kind of IOU, usually the kind that required sexual favors as payment.

  “Thanks for the tip,” his deep voice rumbled, and somehow, I knew he’d just severed all the strings that still tied us together.

  When I finally had the courage to glance up, he was gone, but the gaping void that Hamish’s absence had rent open inside of me was still there. It was a hole I wasn’t sure I could ever fill.

  Sliding my palm across the bar, I held the money against my stomach like it was a symbol of closure and then shoved it into the hip pocket of my jeans. Maybe I should get it framed as a reminder that some fighters did have brain cells left after years of getting punched in the head. Or maybe I should just spend it all on booze to drown my sorrows.

  “Are you okay?” Sandra asked, sweeping by me and grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the shelf beside my head.

  “Yeah,” I muttered, snapping to attention.

  “You look a little dazed,” she said, pouring two fingers of liquor into a glass.

  Taking a deep breath, I offered her a smile. “I’m fine.”

  Then I turned to the next customer and took their order because the world didn’t wait for the brokenhearted. It just got busy rotating around the sun and didn’t pause for an insignificant speck that served piss behind a long bench of germ-encrusted wood.

  For a few days, I’d felt the euphoria of being in love with a fighter. Not lust, which was what I’d felt for Storm, but love. Real, bona fide, solid love. It was raw, uncontrollable, and consuming. I’d gotten swept up in the romance and had all but forgotten how fast I could fall when things inevitably went wrong because that was Lori Walker in a nutshell.

  Things always went tits up when the going was good.

  This life…it wasn’t working anymore, and there was only one thing I could do.

  In a moment of clear-headed passion, I strode down the length of the busy bar and tapped the new manager on the shoulder. When he turned around, I declared, “I quit!”

  He blinked at me in bewilderment, and if he said anything, I didn’t hear it. I’d already grabbed my bag and jacket and was headed toward the door.

  I quit!

  25

  Hamish

  I couldn’t even look at her.

  Storm had been harassing her again, and I couldn’t even look at her.

  Staring at my reflection as I lifted a pair of dumbbells, I tried to concentrate on my breathing as I counted the repetitions. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.

  Goddammit, I was so angry with her. She had no right going to see Ma behind my back like that. She was sitting there, the two of them looking as thick as thieves, and it had just grated me the wrong way. Ma was sick, she didn’t need to be pulled from side to side.

  I lost count of where I was up to and cursed aloud. Dumping the weights, I wiped the back of my hand across my sweaty brow.

  “Someone’s got a feather up their butt,” Ash said behind me.

  Why I chose to train at Pulse today was beyond me. Considering the mood I was in, my best friend and oversharer was going to cop hell.

  Glancing at him in the mirror, I raised an eyebrow. “I broke up with Lori.”

  “After a week?” he exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why? I thought things were going okay?”

  I snorted.

  Ash rolled his eyes.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “I can tell you want to say somethin’ to me,” I said, turning to face him. “So just say it, and stop pussyfootin’ around.”

  “You really want to hear it?” he asked, standing in front of me.

  “Yeah, I really want to hear it.”

  “You’ve been lying to me,” he said. “Probably since the day I met you.”

  My expression dropped. “Lyin’ about what?”

  “We’re best mates. I don’t know shit about your family or what you did before you started fighting. I don’t even know why you want to stay at The Underground.”

  “The money’s good,” I said, curling my lip.

  He eyed me up and down like he didn’t believe a single thing I was saying. “What do you need the money for?”

  “Why all of the questions all of a sudden? Who have you been talkin’ to?”

  Ash nodded across the gym. Glancing to where he gestured, I scowled. Rebel was hamming it up for his girlfriend, Charlie—the blonde with the tight little ass. They were throwing a medicine ball back and forth, looking the picture of ultimate happiness. In love or some shit.

  “He’s observant,” Ash went on. “He’s been keeping an eye out and had some concerns.”

  I remembered the night I almost smashed Storm out the back of The Underground. Rebel had be
en there and had stopped me from doing something stupid. In the aftermath, he’d said he would keep an eye on Lori. I didn’t know what the hell he’d seen, but it’d been too much. That thing I’d had with Lori, no matter how short-lived, obviously screwed with my facade. Secrets that didn’t need to be shared with anyone had simmered far too close to the surface if that little fucker had noticed something.

  “Yeah, well he should mind his own business,” I snapped.

  “What’s going on, Hamish?” Ash asked, looking concerned. “You know you can come to me, right?”

  A week had passed since I’d kicked Lori to the curb, and Ma had gone downhill. I still hadn’t talked to Dr. Schwartz about the cancer test. I was alone in this, which was how I’d wanted it, but all I felt was angry. At who, I wasn’t sure anymore. I was angry with Lori, right?

  “Hamish, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Five years ago, my ma was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s,” I blurted, my voice sounding far away. “I fight to pay her bills. A few weeks ago, just after your weddin’, I found out her cancer was back. They gave her three months. I guess she has a month to live by now. I wouldn’t know. These things don’t have a timer.”

  “Fuck, Hamish,” Ash cursed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Most of the time, she doesn’t even know who I am,” I went on, the anger I’d been squashing down inside me starting to rise and break out of containment. “And I might have it, too. The cancer.”

  “Can you get tested?”

  I could hear his questions, but I wasn’t listening. He wanted to know so he could just shut the hell up and listen.

  “I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t need anyone. I’ve never needed anyone’s fuckin’ help. Lori found out and went to see Ma behind my back. She wasn’t welcome.” I tightened my fists, fighting the urge to smash the mirror beside me. “She betrayed me. She—”

  I raised my fist, wanting to tear down the entire world, and Ash sprang into action. Before I could even lash out, he shoved me back against the mirror, ramming his forearm across my chest.

  “Get in the cage,” he commanded, jabbing his finger toward the padded octagon at the back of the gym. “You don’t smash shit in my gym. You beat it out in there. Got it?”

  “Fine,” I snapped. Turning on my heel, I strode through the gym, oblivious to the people around us. It was still the ass crack of dawn, so only a few people were strewn across the complex. A couple of fighters lingered, watching our every move, including Rebel and Charlie.

  Ash followed me without uttering a word. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, flinging it on the floor as he kicked off his trainers. Holding the mesh open, I ducked into the padded cage and began pacing.

  “Put these on,” Ash snapped, throwing a pair of fingerless gloves at me. The kind that had padding across the knuckles.

  Pulling the gloves on, I began to pace faster, the volcano of rage inside of me beginning to erupt.

  “Take a shot,” he said, gesturing for me to take a swing. “I can take it.”

  I took a swing, but he blocked the blow easily, shoving me away.

  “You think you’re so fucking strong, keeping all that shit to yourself,” he taunted. “What good did it do you?”

  “It’s family business,” I snarled, shoving him, my palms slapping against his tattooed chest.

  “Was losing her worth it? Huh?” Ash circled around me and took a swing, his fist hitting the side of my head.

  Dazed, I shook myself out and came back around, landing a vicious kick into his side. When the blow hardly moved him and he grabbed my shin, I began to remember how good a fighter he was. There was a reason he’d won so many bouts at The Underground.

  He pulled my leg, and I landed on my back, but I wasn’t about to let Ash Fuller, of all people, best me. Kicking out with my left leg, I hooked my foot behind his knee and sent him tumbling off balance.

  He landed hard, and I used the split second he was dazed to launch myself onto him. I punched him in the face, my gloved fist smacking into his temple.

  “Did you love her?” he spat, lifting his forearms to protect his face from another strike. “Is that why you’re so angry? Huh?”

  “You don’t know shit,” I roared, pummeling the side of his head.

  He bucked underneath me, throwing my balance to the right, and I was on my back before I knew what was happening. I was one of those amateur assholes I manipulated in the cage over and over, using their anger to best them. Ash was trying to teach me a lesson, and I hated him for it. I knew I was being an asshole, but I didn’t want to forget. I didn’t want to forgive, either. I didn’t need anyone.

  We rolled, grappling like a pair of idiots. I was vaguely aware we had an audience, but I couldn’t even see past my own bloody nose, which was actually bleeding down my face and smearing onto my chest. Ash didn’t even have a mark on him.

  “What the hell is going on?” I could hear Ren shrieking at us as we beat the crap out of one another.

  “Hi, honey,” Ash said as he kneed me in the balls. “We’re just having a wrestle.”

  Her fingers curled through the mesh, and she shook the black nylon material with all her strength. “Stop it right now!”

  “Let them go,” I heard Rebel say. “They’ve got a beef to work out. This is how guys work through stuff. It’ll be cool.”

  “Having the owner beat up a client is not good for business,” Ren shot back.

  “We’ll be done soo—” Ash spluttered as I rammed my fist into his stomach.

  “Shut the hell up!” I roared.

  “I fucking won’t,” he replied. “You’re dumb as dog shit. Giving up a woman like Lori. A woman who could look past all that bull crap and still want you. You kept all this shit from your best friends. You’re the selfish one, Hamish.”

  You’re the selfish one. His words hit home, and it hurt. He was right, and in that moment, I hated him.

  “You think you’ve got all the answers,” I yelled at him. “Ash fuckin’ Fuller’s got all the answers with his perfect life.”

  I thought he was angry before, but the look that passed over his face was nothing short of an inferno of rage. He snarled and shoved me off him with all his strength, and I went flying. He stood over me and punched me in the eye, stars exploding through my vision.

  Moving behind me like he was made of lightning, he held me in a choke hold, pinning me against his chest, and I began to thrash. His grip was made of steel, and all I was doing was wearing myself out. No amount of grappling was getting me free, not in my state of mind. I was a ball of anger with no control over a single thing I was doing. I was a loose cannon.

  “You listen to me,” he snarled as my chest heaved. “You calm the fuck down, then you get your phone and call that doctor. Get that test, Hamish. Then you call Lori and apologize. Get down on your hands and knees and beg for her forgiveness.”

  “She needs to apologize to me,” I barked.

  “She overstepped. I get it, but you were the one who destroyed your relationship. She wasn’t trying to hurt you or your mother, Hamish. What she did came from a good place. Dare I say it because I’m going to sound like a pansy, but it came from love. And you need to be with your mother, but not like this.”

  I jerked against him. “Fuck you.”

  “Let us help you,” he snapped. “Let her help you.”

  I was so tired of fighting. So tired of trying to shoulder the burden placed on me. I was so bloody tired I just let my limbs go limp and sank the rest of the way to the floor, blood dripping out of my nose. Give it a few hours, and I was sure my eye would be black as hell.

  “Can I let you go now?”

  I nodded, and his grip loosened. Leaning over, I wiped at my nose, feeling more humiliated now than anything else.

  Ash kicked my thigh gently, and I glanced up. He was holding out his hand, wiggling his fingers. With a sigh, I grasped his wrist, and he mine, and he hauled me to my feet.

  “Never think yo
u’re alone in this shit,” he murmured so only I could hear. He clapped his hand on my shoulder and tightened his grip on my wrist. “We’re here for you. Me, Ren, all these guys. No matter what.”

  I nodded. The adrenaline in my body began to wear off and my eye began to throb.

  Ash let me go. “Now go clean yourself up, and call that dude. Sounds like a plan, yeah?”

  I was vaguely aware of Ren coming forward, then Ash holding her back. He’d tell her everything. All the gory details in their full glory.

  “Let him go,” I heard him say.

  “But—”

  “He’ll be okay for now.”

  It was a precarious situation when everything had a bad ending and you couldn’t do anything but deal. I was going to be okay…for now.

  I walked into the change rooms with my shoes in my hand. I dumped them at the foot of my locker and pulled out a clean towel from my bag. Dabbing the corner up my nose to stem the flow of blood, I fumbled for my phone. If I was doing this, it had to be now, or I’d never get around to it. It was fear, plain and simple. I saw how sick Ma was, how sunken and tired she’d become, and I was afraid of it happening to me. Strength was the thing that defined me. To lose that…

  Unlocking my phone, I scrolled through the contacts and found the number for Dr. Schwartz. Pressing his name, I let the call connect, and it rang five times before someone picked up.

  “Hello?”

  I almost hung up, but I sucked up my stupid pride. “Dr. Schwartz? It’s Hamish McBride.”

  “Mr. McBride,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to take the test.”

  26

  Lori

  I quit.

  The words still echoed through my mind, clear as the moment I’d spoken them to the new bar manager.

  I quit, I quit, I quit, I quit.

  After a week of being ignored by Hamish, I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt way more than I could handle, so I pulled up stumps and called it a day. I was invisible, and it was the worst possible punishment he could’ve dished out. The only thing left in my power was to remove myself from the situation.