Undefeated

by Melissa Cutler

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

  Her mention of there being a next time and being suffocated got him thinking about how again that morning he’d been uptight about her being in his private sanctuary—right up until he’d seen her. He’d fallen into the same pattern the night before: first a freak-out, then seeing Marlena and realizing she was precisely what he needed.

  “You’re going to stay with me until we get you moved into your new place,” he said. “Later today, when you have a break in your work schedule, I’ll go with you while you pack a bag. I don’t want you there alone.”

  Her eyebrows knitted together. “That’s not your call to make.”

  “It is if your safety’s in jeopardy, which it very much is whether you want to admit it or not.”

  “Simmer down, alpha man.”

  Very funny. “You are so damn stubborn sometimes, it kills me.”

  “Ditto,” she said.

  “Okay, let’s pretend I was asking you instead of telling you what to do. No—better yet, let’s pretend it was your idea. Whatever it takes for you to be on board with this because you’re done with your old place. Permanently.”

  She lowered her legs, bending her knees, and righted her body, then sat in an easy cross-legged position. “He’s not a threat, not like that.”

  He tucked his head and curved his spine, then rolled on his back as though finishing a summersault to get out of the pose, all the while considering the best way to level with her about the situation. “Let me put it this way: if you had been me looking at you when your brother was standing over you, with his voice raised and his hand on you, then you’d be saying exactly the same thing that I’m telling you right now.”

  Saying those words brought the image of that moment to his mind, enraging him all over again to see a woman he cared about cowering in fear. “Have you checked out the bruises on your arm?”

  She opened her mouth, looking as though she was gearing up to battle him, but he cut her off, his agitation mounting. “Don’t argue. Not about this, Marlena. If you’d seen how small and scared you looked . . . That man could have done anything to you and you would have let it happen. You wouldn’t have fought back. That is not okay with me.”

  Her eyes averted, she curled the edge of the yoga mat into a tight roll. “I know he triggers something in me that’s not pretty and not strong or good, and I know I need to move as soon as possible, but I can’t let him force me to be reactionary. There’s a process to moving.”

  There was, no doubt. But in Marlena’s circumstance, that process was going to be throwing together an overnight bag and getting the hell out of her brother’s line of fire before it was too late. “Remember what denial looked like on your mother’s face? Don’t be that.”

  She released the curled mat. “That’s a low blow.”

  Liam knew jack shit about how women’s minds worked, but he did know that none of them wanted to turn out like their mothers. Olivia had clued him in on that fact one time last year after he’d told her she was nagging him just like their mom.

  “Okay, then tell me I’m wrong.”

  She sucked her cheeks, her eyes sharp as though she was mentally testing his argument for holes. “I’m not changing my mind about this. I need this week at my place to pack because I already rallied my friends to help on Saturday after my morning yoga class. Olivia, Presley, Harper, and Allison and Theo since he has a truck. And Brandon volunteered, too.”

  He could see the writing on the wall that she wasn’t going to come around to his way of thinking regarding her personal safety, and so decided to stop fighting her. All that Marlena’s stubborn refusal to see reason meant was that Liam’s week just got a whole lot busier because he’d be swinging by her place and calling her all the time to check in, but oh well. Maybe it’d take his mind off P.E.T. His only beef now was that she’d made all kinds of moving plans that included his friends, but didn’t involve him.

  “Were you going to ask me to help you move?” he said, half-joking, because of course she knew she could count on him.

  “Honestly? No.”

  “No?” he spat, affronted by her rapid-fire response. She hadn’t even needed to consider his question.

  She shrugged. “I mean, originally I was, but our conversation at the Wing Palace has stuck with me. You want us to exist outside of each other’s shit, and the more I consider it, the more I think that’s what I want, too. Helping a woman you’re sleeping with move apartments definitely qualifies as being right in the middle of her shit.”

  Those boneheaded comments he made at the Wing Palace were going to haunt him for a long time. “And if I told you I was wrong?”

  “Then I’d tell you that there’s no such thing as wrong, in this case. There’s only what you want and what I want.”

  No, he was pretty sure that in the dictionary there was a picture of him standing in front of the Wing Palace next to the phrase wrong move, asshole. “Ask me to help you move.”

  She rolled her eyes and did the hair-toss thing that he was learning meant she was affectionately exasperated with him. “Do you want to help me move?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t move wicker. That stuff is disgusting.”

  He grinned, pleased that he’d engineered a way to needle her about her terrible taste in furniture. There was no need to answer her question sincerely because he already had it settled in his mind that he’d be there on Saturday for the move.

  She gave him a gentle kick. Grinning, he grabbed her foot and pulled, rolling her to her back. He crawled over her and kissed her.

  “Are you sure you won’t stay with me until Saturday? Then I’d know you were safe.”

  “I am safe.” She stroked his hair. “But don’t you think it’s ironic that you want to move me into a creepy apartment where someone was murdered so you’ll have peace of mind?”

  “It’s not creepy anymore.” In fact, he was proud at how the place was turning out.

  “No, it’s not. Now it looks like a vegetable,” she said.

  “That was a brilliant idea.” They shared a smile until Liam caught a glimpse of the clock on the far wall. He sat back on his heels and gave her a hand up. “I have to get moving with my day. I’ll give you a ride wherever you want, then I have an eight-thirty appointment with my P.E.T. doctor. After that, I’m helping Duke with a decking job across town.”

  “I’m teaching at nine, so I need to get moving, too.” She took his offered hand and sat. “Hey, thank you for everything last night. It was good to not be alone.”

  Liam was surprised to find that he agreed with her. Ultimately, despite his moments of panic, it had been good to have Marlena stay the night. One of these days, he’d learn to skip the panic and trust that Marlena always cut through his preconceived notions of what he needed and wanted in his life. “You’re right. It’s good not to be alone.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  At five minutes to game time the following Thursday, Marlena joined her friends in the bleachers at the Iceplex, ready to see if two weeks of yoga and massages could translate into a Bomb Squad victory against the Lockport Money Shots.

  Olivia handed her a beer as soon as she’d settled into her seat. “How’d it go in the locker room?”

  “Ooh, thank you.” She took a long swig of the sorta-cold light beer. “The massages went much better this week. I can tell the guys are feeling more comfortable with me being there simply by the reduced number of inappropriate jokes they cracked.”

  Harper snickered. “Men can be such babies sometimes.”

  Presley rolled her eyes. “Uh oh. What did Brandon do to wrong you this time?”

  “Nothing,” Harper said. “Brandon Theroux has done nothing at all. I believe the correct term is jack shit, actually.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Olivia asked.

  “He lost a bet to me last weekend and has yet to pay up by replanting two of my flower beds. Too busy with his modeling gigs and screwing anything with tits.” />
  “I thought you two were through making bets with each other,” Allison said.

  “I know, I know. But in my defense, it was late at night and he was wearing that one shirt I love. The black one with the sleeves that don’t fit over his biceps.”

  Presley gave her a good-natured shove. “You’re weak, woman. Pathetic.”

  “Okay, spill it,” Marlena said. “What was the bet?”

  “He bet me he could fix a jammed window lock with nothing but a paper clip before I could finish a pint of beer, but he underestimated how fast a drinker I am.”

  “Wait. How did your window get fixed if he lost the bet?” Olivia asked.

  Harper grinned. “Because then I bet him I could fix it with the same paperclip before he finished a pint or else he had to replant two flowerbeds instead of one. Piece of cake. That window jams all the time and I fix it just fine on my own. No penis required.”

  Marlena chuckled. “You two are terrible.”

  “No, he’s terrible. I’m pathetic, remember?”

  “He’ll be there on Saturday helping me move, so I’ll be sure to give him a hard time on your behalf,” Marlena said.

  “I wish I could help you, but Saturday’s my busiest day at the tavern. Are you ready for the move?” Harper asked.

  “Not really. It’s incredible how much stuff I have for someone whose life philosophy is all about not indulging in the trappings of materialism.”

  One of the best parts of her week, though, had been discovering the many perks of sleeping with her landlord. Every day, Liam seemed to have accomplished some new remodeling feat in her new apartment. In addition to putting up the crown molding, he’d replaced the carpet with a pale beige, and was in the process of installing built-in bookshelves in the master bedroom.

  “Is that why you’ve been hard to get in touch with this week?” Presley said. “It’s been taking you forever to return my texts.”

  Moving was definitely keeping her busy, but being with Liam was keeping her even busier. Though she’d returned to her apartment on Monday, he’d been overly attentive. Every night that week, he’d shown up at her studio as her last class was ending, then followed her home, walked her to her apartment, then did a quick check of the inside, as though he were her bodyguard. She might have gotten annoyed at the hovering, except that he’d rewarded her acceptance of his overbearingness with nightly sessions of mind-blowing sex.

  She knew he was worried about Michael coming over unannounced, but, as she’d tried to tell him repeatedly, it turned out not to be an issue at all. In fact, her mom reported to her that Michael’s meds were starting to regulate and his bipolar pendulum was starting to swing in the functional direction again. Thank goodness.

  Olivia nudged Marlena with her elbow, then gave her best stern-teacher look. “You need to tell them. It’s time.”

  “About what?” Marlena asked.

  “About who’s distracting you. They don’t know.”

  Ah. Olivia was right, but in Marlena’s defense, the previous week had seemed too soon to say anything about her relationship with Liam to their extended circle of friends. It wasn’t until the last few days that she felt confident that she and Liam were something more than a fling, something sustainable, despite his assertion to the contrary.

  Harper’s focus shifted between Marlena and Olivia. “Tell us what?”

  “I started seeing Liam, romantically.”

  “You what?” Presley spat.

  “I told Olivia a couple weeks ago, right after something happened between Liam and me for the first time, because I didn’t want it to be weird—”

  Olivia wrinkled her nose. “It’s still weird.”

  Marlena cringed. “I know. I wish it weren’t.”

  “You’re dating your best friend’s twin brother. How could it not be?” Harper said.

  “You’re right. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. He and I had been running hot and cold and I wasn’t sure until this week if there was even something worth sharing with you. But now it’s hot. Very hot.”

  None of her friends congratulated her or acted excited, not like they usually did when one of them announced a new boyfriend. Instead, an awkward silence descended.

  “And I’m happy,” Marlena added, annoyed with herself for feeling the need to defend her choice.

  “Good,” Allison said. “He seems . . .” Her eyebrows pinched together as though she were searching her mental files for the right adjective. “Well, I mean, of all the guys on the team, he’s the one I know the least about. But you and Liam have known each other for a long time, right? You all went to high school together. So if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you. Yes. Olivia and I have been friends since we were eleven. And he’s always been there.”

  “Like a brother?” Harper muttered.

  Presley choked on her beer and leaned over in a coughing fit.

  Marlena huffed. “No. Ew. I’ve always had it bad for him.”

  Olivia whipped her face around to glare at Marlena. “You never told me that.”

  “Because it’s weird, like you said. I never thought anything would come of my crush, so I didn’t see a reason to complicate things between you and me. And when he got out of the army, I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

  “I’ve never thought he knew any of us existed, including Olivia,” Harper said.

  Olivia folded her hands in her lap. “Oh, he knows I exist. He just likes to pretend he doesn’t because he hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Marlena said. She pressed her lips together, irritated with herself for commenting on Olivia and Liam’s relationship after she’d vowed not to let herself get caught in the middle.

  “I need more details,” Presley said. “How did things change between you and Liam? What tipped it off? It’s not like he hangs around Locks or goes to any of our parties or anything. Did it happen because of the Bomb Squad yoga?”

  How could she explain the whirlwind weeks of push and pull that had gotten them to this point? Their relationship had been built with so many little, intimate moments that were none of anybody’s business. “He pursued me, even before Bomb Squad yoga started.”

  Harper smacked the officials’ table. “Oh my God, I’m putting it all together now. He was the winning bid on your massage gift certificate at the Wounded Veterans International gala.”

  “Yes.”

  “So he came in for his massages and sparks flew between you?” Allison said.

  “Something like that.”

  Olivia’s brows knitted. “I thought you said he didn’t like the massage.”

  “He didn’t. It’s complicated.”

  Olivia looked at her hands, defeated by Marlena’s brush-off answer. Marlena’s throat tightened with frustration that every conversation they seemed to have recently was so loaded with the potential to hurt Olivia’s feelings and turn Marlena defensive and secretive.

  Presley slid an arm across Olivia’s shoulders. “Are you doing okay with it all?”

  Olivia looked up and shifted her view between Presley and Marlena, a sad smile on her lips. “Sometimes. Most of the time, actually. Marli and I have talked about it a lot, about how it’s changed everything.”

  Marlena squeezed Olivia’s hand. “Not everything. You’ll always be my person.”

  She didn’t look convinced on that point, but there wasn’t anything else Marlena could think to say to convince her. Silence descended over their group as they watched the teams skate around the arena, warming up. Each time Liam passed, he kept his eyes on the ice in front of him, his expression distant.

  At one point, Theo skated over. He winked at Allison, then mugged a funny face for Katie, who giggled and shoved her fist in her mouth.

  “Good luck tonight, baby,” Allison called as he skated away.

  “I love that you call him ‘baby,’” Presley said. “He was always the biggest, scariest dude on the team until you got a hold of
him and showed us all what a big softie he really was.”

  A buzzer sounded, signaling two minutes until the start of the game.

  “No Liam?” Presley said.

  Marlena shrugged. She knew better than to wish Liam would ever act like Theo did with Allison, no matter how solid they were. He was too private a man, too put off by the presence of spectators. Heck, the fact that Marlena was sitting next to Olivia was probably as much of a deterrent as the rest of the crowd. Her friends might not understand why he wasn’t acknowledging her in a public way, but she got him on a deep, intimate level that didn’t require public validation. She knew what they had.

  ***

  In the end, Bomb Squad lost to the Money Shots two to one—a closer game than they’d played in more than a month. Not only that, but they’d worked together as a well-oiled machine, making world-class plays as they had before their losing streak started.

  After arranging for Olivia to save seats for her and Liam at Locks, which both women acknowledged as wishful thinking on Marlena’s part, Marlena hung out outside the locker room, waiting for Liam to emerge and help her carry her massage equipment to her car.

  Will was the first man out. Freshly showered, his customized game prosthetic had been swapped for his regular one. He was a big man, the tallest and brawniest on the team, and also one of the nicest. Despite his intimidating size, Marlena had never felt apprehensive around him—not the way she still sometimes did around Liam. Not that Liam still intimidated her, per se, but she still felt that fluttering of attraction and nerves every time she saw him.

  When Will saw her, he smiled. “Hey, there. Sucky game, huh?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’ll take more than two weeks of yoga to fix a slump this bad. Duke’s not going to fire you or anything.”

  “I hope not. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night’s class.”

  “Me, too, actually. Which is something I never thought I’d say, no offense. Are you waiting for Duke?”