by Chloe Walsh
This was important to me. It was my life's work. I couldn't stop now. I had to win that belt. Until I'd been shot, I hadn't realized how important it was to me. I needed to fight. I needed to be the best. To be acknowledged. I needed my redemption.
"You have nothing to prove, Noah," she continued to say, making me feel like the worst piece of shit on this planet. Rubbing her swollen stomach, she stepped towards me. "You have us." Tears were in her eyes. They were threatening to spill. "Just be my husband. Be her father."
How could I explain to her?
How could she ever possibly understand the fire inside of me, the one burning in the center of my soul, the one nothing but absolute domination could douse?
"I understand," Teagan continued to say to me. She didn't, but she said it anyway. "The feeling of needing to prove yourself – but, Noah, you have! You have proved yourself ten times over. Now you need to take a step back and enjoy your life."
"I don't know any other life," I admitted. "And besides, if I make enough money this leg…"
"Money?" She glared at me. "The only thing I want you to spend on me is time."
"Fighting is all I've ever done." For as far back as I could remember, I was either hitting or being hit on. How did a person walk away from something that had been drilled into them from birth? "I'm no good at anything else."
"Liar." My wife stood flush against me. "You're good at loving me." Her hazel eyes were full of heated emotion. "You've always been the best one at that."
"I'm not retiring, Thorn," I countered, ignoring her attempts to sway me with sweet talk. I knew what she wanted me to do – who she needed me to be. So why was it so fucking hard to conform? "Don't push me on this."
"Oh my god," she hissed, slapping my chest with the palm of her hand. "You heard the doctors. You saw the X-rays. The muscles in your shoulder were severed. They were blown off the bone. You will never return to your old form. Getting back in the cage in your shape is suicide, Noah! You are walking into an early grave by going back to fighting. How do you not get that?"
"Do you think I give a damn what some prepped up rich dick in a lab coat tells me?" I demanded, furious. "I know my own goddamn body, Teagan."
"You were shot, Noah!" she screamed. "Shot! You will never be the same as before no matter how hard you work your body to the bone or wish. It's not going to happen."
"You were shot," I mimicked, repeating the words my wife had tossed at me at least ten times a day for the past two months. "Give it a break, Teagan. You're like a broken fucking record."
"Well maybe if you used your brain and listened to me, I wouldn’t have to keep repeating myself," she shot back. "I can't watch you kill yourself out of some sick sense of responsibility over Tommy's death."
Ouch.
"Don’t go there," I warned her, hearing the tremor in my own voice.
"Oh, I’m going there," she shot back, equally shakily. "And you're coming with me." Shaking her head, Teagan blinked back the tears threatening to spill. "You blame us," she noted. "For him dying."
I flinched.
"You blame yourself for putting Tommy in danger and you blame me for stopping you from saving him." Sniffling, she looked me straight in the eye and dared, "Admit it."
"I don’t blame you," I was quick to tell her, voice thick and pained. I blamed me… "I know why you stopped me…"
"Liar," she countered. "You're pissed and hell bent on getting yourself killed in that ring because you don’t know how to handle grief." She sniffed and continued her tirade. "Because you've never let yourself feel, but you loved him… You loved Tommy and you can't handle the hole his death has left in you."
"Why are you saying this shit to me?" I demanded, heart racing. "I don’t want to hear this, Teagan."
"Tell me something else," Teagan continued wearily, voice breaking. "Is this what I came here for; to watch you get your brains bashed in week after week?"
She continued to talk before I had a chance to answer.
"If so, then what the hell was the point in it?"
"In what?"
"The pain, Noah," she shot back. "Fighting and clawing our way back to each other. Why did we bother?"
"I…" I stopped short, realizing I didn't have an answer.
What could I say to that?
Nothing.
Fucking nothing…
"You've done your time, Noah," she sobbed, backing away from me. "You've bled enough."
Fuck this.
I couldn’t watch her cry.
Exhaling every ounce of my anger, I stalked towards Teagan and pulled her into my arms. "Come on, Thorn," I whispered, holding onto her tightly. "Don’t cry."
"We're never going to agree, Noah," she whispered against my chest. "I will never condone you returning to the MFA, and you will never accept the fact that I don’t want to come with you." Stroking her nose against my chest, she added, "I can't change your mind just like you can't twist my arm."
"Goddamn, Thorn," I said gruffly, feeling my resolve buckle under her voice of reason. "I didn't come back from hell to let you leave me twice." I shook my head and tried to find the words to explain to my wife just how crucial she was to me. "I'm not me without you. How am I supposed to concentrate when I'm on tour and you're here?"
"Are you worried about JD?" she asked and I flinched.
"No." For once, JD wasn’t at the fore point of my mind. The text message I'd received from Gonzalez two weeks ago had put that particular worry to bed. He'd told me that his men had located JD in New Mexico. He'd followed that message up with a picture message, putting me somewhat at ease. Knowing I had Gonzalez on his trail was comforting, even if I didn’t trust any of them. I wasn’t sure what my former boss's plans were, but I had this feeling inside of me, more of an instinct really, telling me that he would make good on his word. After all, I had covered for him and his gang and kept him out of prison.
Keeping Thorn out of the loop and hiding things from her made me feel like a huge asshole. But she didn’t need the worry or the stress. All I wanted my wife to do was concentrate on was growing that baby of mine and keeping herself safe. I could handle everything else. All she had to do was stay the hell out of trouble...
"You're not going to come with me, are you?" I asked her dejectedly, already knowing the answer. When she shook her head, my heart sank.
I had my arms wrapped around the only person on this planet who knew me inside out. She was here. Carrying my baby. Growing my child inside of her body. It should have been enough. It needed to be enough.
Why the fuck was it not enough?
"Can you live with it?" Teagan whispered. "It will only be for six weeks, and then we have Christmas."
I exhaled heavily. "Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice," she was quick to counter. "Stay with me."
"Come with me," I tossed back, not putting much heart into it. She'd made her decision. Nothing I said would change her mind.
"I'll make a deal with you," Teagan said in a soft tone, as she rubbed her cheek against my chest. "I'll lay off the hounding on one condition."
"What's that?"
"When you bring home the title in December," she replied in a careful tone. "You call it a day on fighting."
I stiffened.
"If winning that title means this much to you, then I will give you my support," she added. "But when you win it, that's it." Taking a step back from me, Teagan looked up at my face and said, "When you win that title, you retire and come home to me."
What was it with this woman?
How the hell did she have the ability to make me feel like a teenage boy – all torn up inside and led by fucking hormones?
"I've just conceded on you coming with me, Thorn." That was huge for me and she knew it. "And now you're pushing for more?" Shaking my head, I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.
"I'm going to push you for the rest of my life," she surprised me by saying. "And you're going to love it. Because that's wha
t we do, Noah." Smiling, she added, "We push and we take. Question is, how much can you give, Noah?"
Christ…
"I don't get bossed around," I grumbled. "Never have. But with you… Jesus Christ, Thorn, you get away with it. I follow you like a fucking puppy. What the hell have you done to me?"
"I'm growing your baby inside of me for a start," she offered coyly.
I nodded in agreement. "That's a pretty good start."
****
Chapter Six
Hope
I could live a hundred years and never come close to understanding the complexity of Noah and Teagan's marriage.
One minute they were tearing strips out of each other, and the next, they were mounting.
Literally mounting each other.
I didn’t need to look into the kitchen to understand what was happening inside there. The loud sex noises coming from in there had made it perfectly clear.
Unable to sit another minute in this mad house, and feeling grossed out that my friend was having intercourse on one of the surfaces I had once eaten off, I sprang to my feet and grabbed my purse. "I'm getting out of here." Looking around the others, I rattled my keys and asked, "Any takers?"
Unlike earlier when my offer of a ride home had been met with hesitance and refusal, Colton jumped to his feet, obviously as desperate as I was to get the hell out of here.
"Please, Hope," he muttered. Turning, Colt offered his hand to our younger brother and pulled him from the couch.
I watched through hooded eyes as the youngest of my triplet brothers' used one of his hands to adjust the other.
"You good, Low?" I asked, eyeing him with concern. He was moving slower than normal as he walked to the front door. "Are you having a relapse?" He'd been okay for a while now. Worry bloomed in the pit of my stomach. The thought of watching him go through that again… God, it was torture watching his body turn against him like that.
"I'm fine, Hope," Logan shot back in a tone that said shut the hell up. "I'm just tired."
Colton walked beside Logan and I walked behind them all the way out to the car. Every once and a while, I caught Colt's eye and was met with the same helpless look I was sure I was sporting.
When we were all inside my truck with the engine roaring, the passenger door flew open. "I'll come with you," Lucky offered before climbing inside. "The roads are icy as hell tonight." Slamming the door shut behind him, he fastened his seat belt. "I don’t want you driving back here on your own."
Warmth flooded me.
I wasn’t surprised by Lucky's offer. Since coming home, I'd spent a lot of time with him. He was carefree and calm and everything I wasn’t. Being in close vicinity to Lucky made me feel better. Like I wasn’t broken. Like I wasn’t waiting for something to happen that never would. He unintentionally gave me peace…
"Okay," I said, fighting back a smile. "Thank you." Slipping the truck into gear, I took off down the lane surrounded by trees, taking extra precaution on the ice.
I wasn’t used to having a man worry about my welfare. For the past eight years, it had been me and Teagan. We'd taken care of each other. We'd helped the other patch up our broken hearts and consoled each other through our dark days. There had been quite a few of those.
Except the guy who had broken Teagan's heart was currently inside that house fixing a lot more than her feelings.
As for the guy that had broken mine?
Well, that guy consumed my thoughts for the entire drive…
"…I promise to love you always and to never wander from the sanctities of our marriage, friendship and love. I stand here today pledging my heart as a symbol of my undying love for you. I will always be yours; today, and every day that follows, Hope Carter, just as I've been yours every day before this." Jordan stood in front of me, offering me everything I'd ever wanted from the moment I'd been old enough to contemplate my heart's desire.
"Until my last breath leaves my body, I vow to love you," he promised. "And even in death, I will find a way to love you then."
My left hand shook when Jordan slid the plain gold band on my fourth finger. "I offer you this ring with the understanding that our love is a once in a lifetime kind of love." He covered my hand with his. "I take you as my wife with pride and honor. Loving you is a privilege in which I will cherish..."
I'd had no reason to doubt Jordan Porter.
None.
Before that day, Jordan had never broken a single promise to me.
His word had always been his word – almost sacred. He'd never let me down.
How ironic, I thought to myself, that he would decide to break our wedding vows…
"What's wrong with your brother?" Lucky's voice penetrated through my thoughts, dragging me back to the here and now, and I jerked, startled.
Shaking my head, I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and sighed. "Which brother, Lucky?"
Lucky had told me to call him Hunter, but the longer I'd spent back home listening to everyone calling him Lucky, the more I'd slipped into the same pattern.
"Logan," he countered evenly. "Is he sick or something?"
"Yeah," I replied quietly, as I maneuvered the truck through the icy mountain roads. "He has MS."
Lucky cocked a brow. "Come again?"
"Multiple sclerosis," I explained, concentrating on the road.
"Isn't that an older person's disease?"
"You would think," I muttered under my breath, thinking back to all of the times when Logan's MS had relapsed – which had been too many to count over the years. "It was worse when we were younger," I found myself explaining. "Watching him just lying there on the couch at Christmas, not able to open his presents like the rest of us or go out back and ride our bicycles." I blinked away the image of my baby brother laying paralyzed from a condition I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. "He never complained about it, you know." I smiled when I thought back in admiration. "Not once in all those years. He just got on with it." I exhaled a heavy breath. "He's the best person I know."
"Is he having another…relapse now?" Lucky asked me when we pulled into the driveway of South Peak Road. "I noticed his arm wasn’t…"
"Working?" I offered. "That's because it's numb." Killing the engine, I opened the door of the truck and climbed out. "Stress brings it on. He loses feeling in his limbs. For Logan, it always starts in his arms and progresses from there. I guess that's why he's such a drama-free guy. He keeps to himself and works so hard on staying healthy. But this thing with Cam and Tillie…" I paused, feeling a flood of rage waft through my body. "Well." I clicked my tongue. "It's wrecking all of us, but luckily for the rest of us, we don’t have a body that attacks itself."
"Shit," Lucky muttered under his breath as he followed me up the steps of Noah and Teagan's porch. "Poor guy."
"Yeah," I agreed, slipping my key into the door. "But don’t let on that you know anything," I warned him as I turned the key in the lock and let us inside. "Logan is ridiculously private about it."
"Duly noted," he replied, following me into the foyer.
Thankfully, the sex noises that had been coming from the kitchen were now gone – or at least they had taken it upstairs. Either way, I was relieved to not have to deal with it.
Moving through the house, I went to the kitchen, deliberating on a hot chocolate, but settling on a bottle of untainted pop from the refrigerator instead. "Want one?" I called out, holding out a bottle for Lucky.
"Sure," he agreed before taking the bottle from my extended hand. "Cheers, big ears."
"No prob, small knob," I shot back, not missing a beat, as I continued to rummage around for my secret stash of candy I kept hidden in an egg carton at the back of the fridge. It was the only safe place to keep candy these days. Teagan had taken up an aversion to eggs.
In the past two months, I'd quickly learned about Lucky's sense of humor. And he'd learned – or at least he should have – that he'd need to come up with better one liners. I came from a family full of testoste
rone fueled brothers. There weren't many insults I hadn't heard through the years.
Retrieving the carton, I grinned unabashedly at Lucky before taking my stash into the living room and curling up on the couch. He knew about my stash. He'd restocked it on several occasions.
Staying up late with Lucky, stuffing our faces with junk food and watching crummy sitcom reruns, was something I'd grown fond of since returning home. Lucky was comfortable and familiar and I felt completely at ease around him. He didn’t demand anything from me and I liked it. I didn’t have to pretend to be bubbly or okay around him. I was simply me and it was enough for him. He was quite content to be around me; broken, bent, out of shape and all…
"You do realize that theory is complete bullshit," he told me for the third time during an episode of Ghost Hunters, when I'd tried and failed once again to convince him that ghosts were real.
"You are so narrow-minded," I mused. "What makes it so hard for you to believe in this stuff?"
He cocked a brow. "Because when you're dead, you're dead, Hope." Shifting on the couch, Lucky turned towards me and sighed. "There's no coming back in a different shape or form. Once you die, there's nothing, nada, finito."
"I beg to differ," I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.
Lucky rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Of course you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a writer," he explained with a smirk. "You believe in all that stuff. Fairytales and monsters. Good and evils. Ghosts and demons. Soulmates." He rolled his eyes once more for emphasis. "You're a dreamer, Hope Carter."
"There's nothing wrong with being a dreamer," I told him, feeling suddenly exposed by the man sitting next to me. "You don’t believe in soulmates?"
Lucky was quiet for a long time before he spoke. "I believed in a lot of things once," he finally said. "But then I learned the truth."
"And that is?"
"Life is a bitch, Hope." He looked me dead in the eyes. "Expectations only lead to disappointment and desires lead to dead ends. We have one life. We come into it on our own and we're going out on our own. Worrying, caring and devoting yourself to a specific cause or person is all well and good, but it's not permanent. The only thing permanent in life is death and the only promise that's ever truly kept is the promise that one day you'll die."