by Chloe Walsh
I was so relieved to see Noah doing something productive again that I didn’t dare mention anything to him about injuries or bullet wounds. He was on the edge, barely holding himself together. If fighting gave him whatever it was he needed to stay sane, then I was all for it.
Now, my focus had turned to my best friend – or what was left of her.
Teagan was still holed up in her uncle's house back in Thirteenth Street and refusing visitors. I hadn't caught a glimpse of her in weeks and I was worried sick. She wasn’t the same person. She was a shell of the woman she'd once been and I feared nothing would ever bring her back to us again.
****
Noah
Every second I was without her felt like an eternity.
I was fighting my fate, keeping my distance, but what choice did I have?
If I pushed her, she would crack.
I couldn't take the risk of breaking her.
She was grieving. I got that. I understood. But I was grieving, too.
I was disgusted with the tiny part inside of me that was relieved I didn't have to hear her crying at night. I could block it out. How fucked up was that?
When Nick called offering me the fight, what could I say other than yes? It wasn’t like I had anything left. My daughter was dead, my wife had left me, my manager was dead and my best friend was on the run.
What the hell was I going to do besides fight?
My body was fit for retirement but if I didn’t go back to fighting, I would end up drinking myself to death.
I'd stopped going to her uncle's house.
I'd stopped calling, too.
I spent all my time training and sleeping.
At night, I watched the same video over and over. It was a video of one of my fights, when Teagan was in the stands supporting me.
Every single night, I lay in our bed, numb, and listened to my wife's haunting voice waft through the silent room, cheering me on, entering my bloodstream, slicing my heart.
****
Teagan
Wrapped in a parka coat and thick winter boots, I sat on the top step of my uncle's porch and stared down at the driveway. It was pouring rain out here, but I remained exactly where I was, protected under the veranda of the porch.
Knowing that this was the exact spot where it all started – where Noah and I first met – was sort of surreal.
So much had happened to us since that night, most of it bad, and my heart squeezed in my chest at the thought.
I didn't dare look at the house directly across the street from me. The Carter's were my husband's family, and I had no doubt that each and every one of them had strongly worded opinions about my leaving Noah.
Sighing heavily, I found myself staring into the yard next door, to the house that had once housed the man responsible for taking my child from me.
Blinking rapidly to keep my emotions at bay, I forced myself to see the overgrown shrubbery and boarded up windows. And then I thought about what the policemen had told me last month.
They'd said they had found body parts of at least two bodies in a burnt out motel room up north. They told me that even though a formal post mortem had not officially identified the victims, there was enough evidence in the room and prints on the building outside to believe that one of the deceased was none other than JD Dennis.
They were gone from our lives now.
Their house had been abandoned many years back, and their grudges died with them.
It should have given me comfort.
It didn’t.
I sat for hours, looking out onto the street I had once loathed. I even cracked a smile when I thought about how Uncle Max had dragged me here all those years ago kicking and screaming.
But as much as I tried not to think about him, my thoughts always led me back to Noah.
He hadn't called this week.
He hadn't showed up at the house, either.
Even though I had told Noah to just move on and forget about me, my heart was on fire now and my mind tormented me with images of him with other women.
Anger coursed through my veins when I thought about him not showing up and I balked. This was what I'd told him to do. I'd told him to give up. I guess deep down inside I never actually thought he would.
Made up images of my husband with imaginary women floated around in my mind over and over until I couldn’t take another moment of it. It almost felt like a tiny spark of fire had come to life in the pit of my stomach, fueled by my jealousy, anger and regret.
Standing up, I dusted off the back of my jeans and went inside. I wandered into the kitchen to where my uncle was standing at the stove.
"You look brighter." He smiled. "The fresh air has brought some color to your cheeks."
My uncle's observation sent a churn of guilt through me.
I shouldn't be feeling brighter or looking it either.
Not when my daughter was rotting beneath the ground.
Immediately, my heart sank and that spark I thought I felt inside of me flickered and died.
"Are you hungry?" Max asked, gesturing for me to take a seat at the table.
"Not really," I whispered. Shuffling over to the kitchen table, I sank down on one of the chairs and watched as my uncle dished up two plates of spaghetti bolognaise.
"You have to start eating, Teagan," he told me, setting one of the plates down in front of me. Taking the seat opposite me, Max lowered himself down and began to tuck into his meal. "You're skin and bones."
He was right about that. I had lost forty pounds since the accident and weighed in now at just under seventy-five pounds. None of my clothes fitted me and I could feel every rib and bone in my body protruding.
I forced myself to put a spoonful of spaghetti into my mouth, but it took me so long to chew that I was exhausted after four bites. I was pathetic.
"So I read something today on the internet," Max told me when he had finished eating.
"Oh?" I didn’t care about what he had heard. I didn’t care about anything, but I humored him so he didn’t completely check out on me and sign me into one of those facilities he often threatened me with.
"It's about Noah."
Immediately, my head snapped up. "What about him?"
Max leaned back in his chair and studied me for a moment before saying, "He's returning to the MFA."
"What?" I deadpanned. What little of my heart that was left hammered in my chest. "No. No, he wouldn’t do that."
"He is," Max corrected. "He accepted a rematch from Anthony Cole. He fights next month in Denver."
"No." I shook my head and flat out refused to believe what my uncle was telling me. "He has a shoulder injury – he's supposed to be in retirement."
"Evidently not."
"This isn’t happening," I muttered as I pressed my fingers to my temples and frowned. "No. He wouldn’t do this to me."
"You left him, Teagan," Max reminded me softly. "You told him to get on with his life."
"Yeah, but I didn’t mean he should go out and get himself killed," I hissed, raising my voice for the first time in months. Shoving my chair back, I stood up. "I can't let him do this." Looking around wildly, I spotted the keys of the car Noah had bought for me and left outside my uncle's house. "I have to talk to him." Rushing over to the counter, I retrieved my keys and dashed for the kitchen door, only halting when I noticed the huge smile on my uncle's face. "Why are you smiling?" I demanded, frantic.
"Today is a good day, Teagan. A good day." Max sighed contently. "And I have a feeling you'll find your husband in the gym."
****
Chapter Twenty-Five
Teagan
I felt a dozen eyes burn into my skull as I walked through the foyer of the Henderson Hotel. This was the first time I'd been out in public since Einín's funeral and I was feeling almost agoraphobic.
Keeping my face down, I walked straight into an awaiting elevator and pressed the button that would take me down to the underground gym.
Unsure
of what I would say when I found Noah, I let my instincts guide me. And my instincts were screaming at me to go to him. To stop him…
When the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, I hurried out in the direction I knew I would find him – or at least I hoped.
Wandering down the long corridor, I slipped inside the first door on the right and immediately my eyes locked on my husband's back. He was all alone as he pounded his fists against a punching bag.
I stood, frozen in the doorway, watching Noah pummel the bag, and a fucked up mixture of lust and despair shot straight through me.
As if he could sense someone in the room, he turned around and when his eyes landed on mine, I took a step back, feeling like I had been speared through the soul.
"Teagan." His voice was gruff as he turned around and dropped his hands on his narrow hips. His eyes roamed shamelessly over my body, taking his fill of me. His dark eyes traveled past me, looking around briefly, before returning to my face. "What can I do for you?"
"I heard a rumor that you accepted a fight against Cole next month," I came straight out with it because there no point in dodging the reason I was here.
"It's not a rumor," he replied flatly as he twisted his neck from side to side, stretching out his muscles. "We fight next month." He walked over to a gym bag, pulled a towel out, and wiped his brow, eyes still locked on mine. "On the seventeenth."
I struggled to comprehend what I was hearing. A million emotions were bursting inside of me and all I could manage to say was, "Why?"
"Why?" Noah cocked a brow as he wiped the back of his head with the towel. "Why what?"
"Why did you accept the fight?" My throat felt like it had closed up. I was in shock. Seeing him again, looking like this, all sweaty and masculine… It was making me feel lightheaded and I didn’t know how to handle the feeling.
"Because that's what I do, Teagan," Noah replied. "I fight." Stepping around me, he walked out of the room and I found myself falling into step behind him.
"Why didn’t you tell me about it?" I asked, my voice high-pitched as I rushed down the corridor after him. "Why didn’t you call, period?" I followed Noah into the dressing rooms. "You stopped calling? Stopped coming over?" I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. "Why?"
"I stopped coming over because I was tired of being turned away," Noah replied flatly. With his back to me, he ripped off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. "And I stopped calling because I remembered that you have my number, too."
"I'm sorry, okay?" I threw my hands up in distress. "I'm sorry for the way I am now." My voice broke and I dropped my head in shame. I felt cold to the bone and the lack of emotion in Noah's voice only made that feeling worse. "I don’t know what I want anymore – what I'm doing with my life or who I am inside."
"You made it perfectly clear that you don’t want me," I heard him say and I flinched. "Is that still true?"
No. No. No…
When I didn’t respond, Noah walked straight up to me.
With his thumb, he tipped my chin upwards, forcing me to look up at him. "Why are you here, Teagan?" His voice was softer now – tender. "You want me? Is that it?"
"I want you to not fight," I whispered, begging him with my eyes. "Please don’t fight him, Noah."
"Why not?" He dropped his hand from my chin and backed away. "You don’t care."
"Of course I care," I barked out a sob. "How can you say that?"
"Then why did you try and kill yourself?" he roared, losing the cool façade. "How could you do that to me – how could you do that to you?"
"I wasn’t thinking clearly." I'd been over this with Max on multiple occasions. "I didn’t know what I was doing..." My words froze on my lips and my heart stopped in my chest when my eyes landed on Noah's bare chest.
My eyes locked on the tiny bird with its wings out. It appeared to be soaring and in its claws it held a rose. It covered the flesh over Noah's heart.
"What the hell is that?" I whispered as I closed the space he'd put between us. His pectoral muscles contracted when I touched his skin, making his new ink move. Trailing my fingers over the tattoo, I felt a lump in my throat as I looked up at my husband and asked, "Why did you do this, Noah?"
"It's for us," he replied gruffly. "It was all I could do."
"It's beautiful," I whispered, not trusting myself to say another word.
"She was my baby, too," he whispered, voice shaky. "My blood. My…fault."
"No," I blinked back the tears. "My fault, Noah. Mine."
"Thorn." Reaching out, Noah took my hand and placed it, palm down, against his chest. I could feel his heart beating beneath my flesh, hard and strong. It gave me peace. His voice broke as he spoke "I've been giving you time. I've been giving you space. What the fuck else can I do?" I tried to retain some personal space, which was virtually impossible with the man in front of me. "Tell me what you need," he croaked out, holding onto my hand for dear life. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."
"Noah," I choked out a sob, but he was already speaking, breaking my heart with his words. "Please don’t –"
"Tell me you still love me, Teagan," he choked out. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me tight – too tight. "Tell me you still want me as your husband. As the father of your children – because I will give you more children! You can fucking bank on that promise."
"You don’t get it," I sobbed, the mere thought of going through that pain again unimaginable.
"I'm not fucking perfect," he continued to say in a frantic, almost feverous tone. "I'm a felon. A convict. You were there, you know what I've done. What I'm guilty of." He shuddered. "But I love you. I love you so fucking much and I'm broken inside waiting for you to come home to me." Tears were in his eyes as he spoke. "You drive me fucking crazy and I still want to wake up in the morning and hear your cranky ass moaning about your feet being cold. I miss you so damn much, Teagan. The way you never put the lid back on the toothpaste tube or empty the bathtub when you're done. I can't fucking think of anyone I would rather clean up after and the thought of you not coming home is driving me out of my mind."
"It's too much," I sobbed, trying to break free from his grasp, but he was too strong and I was only half trying. It was hard to push away from what you really wanted. "I can't do this right now."
"Well it's too much for me, too, but I'm in, Thorn. I'm fucking in and there's no way out for me," Noah roared seconds before his lips crashed down on mine.
For the first time since she died, I yearned for something other than my daughter.
The moment his lips covered mine, a huge part of the gaping hole in my chest pieced itself together, making it a little easier to breathe. It was in that exact moment that I realized what I wanted above all else right now was my husband.
I wanted Noah.
****
Noah
I knew I shouldn’t be touching her like this – being rough with her – but I wasn’t capable of stopping and Teagan sure as hell wasn’t telling me to.
This was wrong, but I couldn’t take my hands off her.
I needed to be inside her.
Touching her.
Holding her.
Being with her…
But then I felt a tear trickle down her cheek and land on mine, and I balked.
Fuck…
It all but killed me to stop kissing her, but I did it. I did it for her.
Because she wasn’t ready yet.
Breaking our kiss, I cupped her face in my hands and wiped her damp cheeks with my thumbs before pressing one last kiss to her forehead.
Teagan stood in front of me, touching her lips with her hand. "What was that?" she whispered.
"That was me showing you it's not over," I replied, purposefully taking a step back from her, giving her the space she needed to make her own decision.
"Then why'd you stop?" she asked, clearly annoyed and my heart soared in my chest.
Maybe she was coming back to me after all…
"Becaus
e you needed me to."
****
Chapter Twenty-Six
Teagan
"I don't know why I'm here," were the words that came out of my mouth when I walked into the kitchen in the house on South Peak Road the following evening. It was the most honest thing I could say. I had no reason to be here only that, I when I had gotten in the car earlier, I had driven straight to Noah.
I told him I loved him yesterday. It was the first time I'd told him that since Einín died. I hadn't gone to the gym with the intent of saying that, but my heart had other plans. Seeing him there had cut open my barely healed wounds.
"Okay," Noah said in a careful tone, keeping his distance from me, hand still holding the refrigerator door open, other hand holding an opened carton of milk.
"I went for a drive," I continued to say as I stepped around my husband and grabbed a glass from the draining board, my words coming out in a rush. "And I ended up here."
Handing Noah the glass, I continued to pace nervously around our kitchen. "I didn't mean to…It wasn't my intention…" Breaking off, I watched as Noah poured himself a glass of milk and then raised the carton towards me. I shook my head, refusing his offer of a drink, and continued my rambling. "I don't know what to say to you."
"Then don't say anything to me," Noah replied calmly. "Eat with me instead."
I hesitated. "I didn't come here to eat."
"And you didn't come here to talk, but that's what we're doing," he shot back before shoving a plate towards me. "So why don't you come and not eat a meal with me."
At a loss for words, I followed after Noah as he wandered into the living room and sank down on the couch.
Sheepishly, I took a seat beside him on the couch, and settled my plate on my lap.