by Lynn Rider
I drive around to the side and push the button for the garage door, unsure whether Chance will be home or not. I’m hopeful that Francis is right and any minute he’ll come bolting from the house, apologizing for being so harsh and wanting to listen.
My eyes rise with the door before focusing on the entryway to the house, willing Chance to come out. He doesn’t. The lump grows larger in my throat when I pull in and notice his truck gone. I park, grab my bag and slide from the truck, unsure if I want to enter his house without him.
“You want me to come in with you?” Francis stands at the edge of the garage, his face hopeful and if it were under any other circumstance, I’d probably laugh at his inability to hide how badly he wants to step inside Chance McKnight’s world.
I glance toward the house before I look back and slowly shake my head. My being here hardly feels right, the idea of bringing someone who is a stranger to Chance into his space, feeling worse. He keeps his circle tight because he trusts few. A stab of pain spears my heart, knowing he no longer trusts me. Audrey planted seeds of doubt and without the opportunity to explain, they’ll grow like weeds, overrunning Chance’s mind.
“No, I’ll just grab the important things and bring them out. Will you put them in your SUV?” I ask, nodding toward his large SUV.
“Sure,” his face softens with a subtle smile as he steps back.
I enter the house quietly, feeling like an intruder in a home that I was joyfully part of just twenty-four hours ago. I glance across the living area to the empty kennel where Hercules stays when no one’s home. He took the boys and dogs out to avoid me. I scan the kitchen, my eyes landing to where the title for his truck sits on the edge of the island where Chance and I made love just two nights ago.
I open my bag and take out the framed photograph along with the note that I wrote last night. Martha thought writing it all out may be therapeutic. She said to write it as if I was going to send it. I did just that. It helped in the moment, but my intention was never to give it to him. But given he’s not willing to talk, it’s the only way he’ll know the truth behind Audrey and why I hid her for so long.
I look down and a single tear drops on the glass as I study the picture I took of the boys the weekend we adopted Lucy and Hercules. Their little smiling faces beam back at me with a happiness you can’t fake as their arms are hugged tight around their dogs. “I love you,” I whisper, smoothing my finger over the glass and laying it carefully on top of the title to the truck I have no intention on keeping.
I step toward the living area and freeze when I see boxes scattered and my pictures have all been removed from the entertainment unit. I walk over to the cabinets, pulling them open. Empty. I look in the boxes and see my albums stacked inside and I cry again as I go robotically through the house gathering the things he hadn’t already packed and carrying them out to Francis.
“Is that it?” Francis asks, closing the hatch of his SUV. He walks around the side, giving me a sad smile, knowing how hard this is on me. With no intention of keeping anything of Chance’s, certainly not an expensive SUV, I’ve delivered every box and bag to Francis and he’s carefully piled all of it into the back of his SUV.
“I need to get one more. It’s in the office. I’ll only be another minute.” He smiles and I take a deep breath, preparing to go inside one last time.
My feet root in place the minute I open the door to Chance’s office. Papers are strewn all over the floor as if they’ve been flung. My eyes land on the large wood desk and credenza. Both surfaces are clear. The books, trophy’s and even Chance’s laptop that once adorned their tops, lie on the rug as haphazardly as the papers.
I slowly step forward, carefully navigating around the paper to avoid ruining whatever he thought so little of to fling in his fit of anger. I kneel at the cabinet to retrieve the small box of important papers when my name, boldly printed in dark ink on a piece of paper catches my eye. I lift it up and can’t believe my eyes.
Hurt. Anger. Betrayal.
My eyes drop to the bottom, ‘Page 2 of 9’. I crawl around on my knees, searching for the other eight pages. When I have them all in order, I sink to my butt and my eyes greedily absorb every paragraph, my already broken heart completely disintegrating with every word.
43
Chance
I push away from Phillips’s hold, his taunting laughter mumbles around his mouthpiece, drowning out Vic’s orders from the side of the ring. Phillips eyes lock on mine, the smug look on his face tells me he thinks the tides have turned. I’ll let him win this sparring match. I’m just not that into it.
“Chance, I’m not telling you again, get your fucking head in the game!” Vic yells and I snicker at his choice of words. He’s been dropping those F-bombs regularly these last two weeks — his threat of not telling me again, falling on deaf ears. He’ll tell me again.
Phillips rushes in, throwing two quick jabs to my jaw. “That’s it, Chance!” Vic yells encouragingly when I block the first. I let Phillips make contact the second time. That’s the oldest trick in the book. I knew the second hit was coming.
It felt good when the leather glove made contact. It’s the reason I agreed to bypassing the standard protective headgear when Phillips suggested it. The sting of the hit proves I’m still alive. Inside the ring is the only time I’ve felt that way since sending Mia away two weeks ago. Phillips steps forward, landing three jabs to my rib cage. I take every one of them.
“That’s it. Take five,” Smith says wedging his big body through the ropes. Phillips tries to come at me again and like a large blur, Smith is in his face, chest bowed out, pushing at Phillips’ shoulder. “I said take five! You may have caught Chance on a bad day, but I sure as shit won’t hesitate to land you on your ass!” Phillips has the good sense to turn toward his corner. Satisfied with his relent, Smith turns to me. “What the fuck are you doing, Chance?” He steps in my line of sight, pulling at my gloves. “You could kick that amateur’s ass in your sleep. Why are you letting that fucking weasel beat on you?”
“Where in the fuck have you been?” I bite back, ignoring his question. He stepped out of my life two weeks ago and hasn’t returned one of my calls.
“I’ve been working.” He jerks my gloves off and throws them on the canvas. He glances around and sighs when he notices half the gym’s eyes are on us. “Vic’s office,” he says, holding the ropes apart for me to follow.
I halfway expect Vic to come barreling into the office behind us, but Smith shuts and locks the door after we’re both inside. He crosses his arms, leaning against the door in a bodyguard like stance.
“Nice of you to show up. I called you two weeks ago when I needed a friend,” I say, sarcastically.
“Looks like you could still use one,” he mocks, stoically.
“She left.” I sink into the chair and cradle my sweaty head in my hands.
“You sent her away,” he says and my head flies up, locking eyes on his grave expression.
“How do you know that?” He nods his head toward the gym. “Fucking Vic has a big mouth,” I add in disgust that the two of them have been gossiping like little bitches.
“He’s worried about you, man. Told me I needed to get down here to talk some sense into your stupid ass.”
“I have all the sense I need.”
“Really? Because you were making all kinda sense out there,” he retorts, under a snicker.
“Fuck you!”
He pushes off the door and walks around me. “You feel better?” he asks, sliding into Vic’s chair.
“No, I don’t fucking feel better. First you fucking disappear and now’s she’s fucking gone.” His lips tilt into an almost smile and it pisses me off that he’s enjoying this.
“You know where she works.”
“She used me.”
“Are you seriously hearing yourself right now?” he asks sarcastically. “She didn’t use you.”
“What is she to your brother?” I ask, changing the subject.
“She’s nothing to my brother…just like all the others.” His voice trails off and I detect the animosity between the two is still alive and well. In the two weeks he’s been back with family, I thought the love affair would be rekindled by now.
“She used me for protection from your brother and I want to know why.”
He shakes his head. “She didn’t use you.”
“You don’t know shit!” I counter, the memory of her sister’s words replaying through my mind.
“You want to know what I know?” he asks, glaring at me. “She got caught up with Paul through her sister, Audrey. She sent her sister away to get her clean, man. She sold just about everything she had, maxed out all her credit cards to pay toward the debt Paul claimed her sister owed and then you pushed your way into her life. That girl never asked you for shit.” I’m shocked and my face must say it by the satisfied look that breaks through his angry expression. “I settled her debt with Paul before you left for Oregon and she stuck around, Chance. You know why? Because she fucking loves you.”
“You knew?”
He nods his head and I sink back in the chair, feeling defeated. I trusted him. “Chance, listen to me and listen to me good. You—”
“You fucking knew and didn’t say a God damned word?” I interrupt angrily. She was mine to protect and I would have if I’d known.
“I just told you, I took care of it!”
“How much? I’ll have it wired—
“It wasn’t about the money, Chance. She didn’t owe him a God damned penny, he just wanted to own Audrey.”
“She was with him at Mia’s friend’s graduation,” I say numbly as my mind reels through memories of Mia’s panic attack…barren house…the look of despair on her face the day her car burned. Smith sighs heavily and my eyes shift to his.
“Paul moved Audrey into his house.” He sits back, the look of dejection on his face matches my own feeling. “Chance, her sister is the one with the problem. All Mia ever did was hide the truth about her. It’s not any easier for Mia to admit to the type of person Audrey is, than it is for me to talk about Paul or you to talk about Monique. It’s her story to tell and she needs to be the one to tell it.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know the answer to that. You need to ask her.”
“I can’t.” I look away.
“Chance, I’ve known you a long fucking time. Don’t let your pride lose this girl.”
“I fucked up.”
“Tell her you lost your cool, let her explain. That’s all you can do,” he says matter-of-fact. It’s not that easy.
“It’s not her that needs to explain.” I take a deep breath and look up, meeting his eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
“I was going to ask her to marry me…when I first met her. I saw her on the stage at Jimmy’s club and knew she was different. Fuck…” I drop my head, running my fingers through my sweaty hair, realizing now just how different she was. She was on the stage that night, not knowing what the fuck she was doing, but doing it because she was desperate to help her sister.
“Did you let Phillips knock you one too many times out there? You’re not making a bit of fucking sense.”
“I fucked up,” I repeat mechanically as my mind begins searching for ways to get her back.
“We’ve established that. You—”
“No, Smith. I really fucked up. You don’t know the half of it,” I interrupt, looking back up.
He crosses his arms over his chest waiting for my explanation and I launch into the story of how I was intrigued at first sight to what she found in my office the day she left.
He sits up when I’m done. “You dumb motherfucker,” he says, shaking his head.
“She’ll never trust me again.”
“I don’t fucking blame her. What in the fuck were you thinking?” he asks through a sigh.
“The boys,” I admit and his eyes align with mine. “I was thinking of the boys.”
“Then tell her that, because she was thinking about her sister.”
A knock at the door prevents me from responding. Truth is, I don’t have a response. I never thought Mia’s sister could be so fucked up. How is that even possible with someone so good and pure like Mia as a sister?
Smith opens the door. “Tell Chance, Edward called and says he needs to call him when he’s done. Says it’s important. And he needs to finish this sparring match. Phillips is out here talking a lot of shit.” Milton says, standing in the doorway.
“Tell the little mother fucker he’ll be out in a minute.” Smith says and I hear Milton chuckle before the door closes. I jump to my feet and Smith holds up his hand. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“I’m going to make it right, Smith. I don’t know how, but I’ll beg if I have to—”
“I know you will, but I want to tell you that I won’t be around much. I’m gonna miss your fight.” I feel my expression tense. Smith’s never missed one of my fights, amateur or professional, he’s been there. “I need to tell you something—”
“You’ve always been in my corner. Don’t you think telling me you’re not going to be there is something?” Our eyes hold and he nods, recognizing how significant this is.
“That’s why I want to explain as much as I can.” I fold my arms over my chest, waiting. “It’s important you keep it between us.” I nod. “You can’t tell anyone—”
“I understood you the first time.”
“I’m going to put Paul away.”
“Away, where?” My brows nit tightly, trying to grasp what he’s saying.
“I’m working with the police, Chance. They’ve built a case against Paul, but they don’t have enough. They approached me a while back and I’d been nosing around from the outside, but it wasn’t what they needed.”
“The police?” I question. Smith isn’t like me, he finished high school and after his injury when his boxing career was over, he returned to college and earned a degree, but working for the police…
“I can’t really tell you more. You know enough to know Paul isn’t a good guy.”
“Is Mia in danger? Because I’ll kill him if—”
“Fuck no! You have my word he won’t go near her.” I let out a heavy sigh of relief. “I just need to focus on what needs to be done so I can get back to my life.” My eyes dart to his, wondering what this will mean for him long term, but the reluctance in his tone, tells me he didn’t want to tell me, maybe even shouldn’t have told me, but the fact he did, proves everything to me.
“If you need anything, you know where to find me, right?” I reach out, taking his larger hand in mine and hug him with the other arm. “Anything…” I repeat, and meet his eyes.
He smiles. “I got this. You just go out there and kick Phillips’ ass and win that next fight of yours. I’ll be back in your corner by the time you win World,” he says nodding toward the door.
44
Mia
Two weeks have passed since I left pieces of my heart on the floor of Chance’s office. He hasn’t once called to explain. He knows I found that contract. I left it neatly in order, along with the photo of the boys on the kitchen counter. I decided not to leave my letter. He doesn’t deserve to hear the details of Audrey’s missteps or the measures I took because of how desperately I wanted to save her. But a part of me wonders if I’d left it behind, would it have changed where we are now.
He doesn’t deserve it. I remind myself, hating that I miss him, that I find myself looking for him when I come to work each day or that I watched his press conference last week about his upcoming fight. Five times.
He sat at that podium with Vic by his side, answering questions, smiling, even laughing at times when he found the reporters’ questions funny. Basically, not giving me the slightest tell of how he’s really doing. He was robotic, professional and other than a black eye, seemed strong and ready. And not missing me.
“Mia,” Martha says, stepping into the studio. I look up in time to see her face soften. She knows where my mind was, but I plaster on a fake smile, forcing it to stay in place. She’s been nothing short of amazing to me, while giving me an apartment to live in and a steady shoulder to cry on. “There’s someone here to see you,” she says remorsefully and my heart flip flops in my chest before it begins its erratic gallop.
“Who is it?” My voice comes out weak and I damn the lump in my throat with a hard swallow. I haven’t heard from Audrey since the day of Brittany’s graduation. Despite all I lost that day, it still hasn’t stopped the worry that soon, one of St. Louis’s finest will find me to deliver the news she’s gone.
“I think you should talk to him,” she says, softly. It takes my mind a minute to shift gears, but my heart contracts, already knowing who him is. I shake my head. “You need closure,” she insists, her eyes dropping.
“I don’t think I can right now.” My eyes sting, unshed tears building at their corners and I quickly lose sight of her as she makes her way to my side.
“I never told you about Francis and I, but there was a time when he broke my heart, too,” she says, thoughtfully. “I won’t give you the long drawn out account of events, but I’ll tell you that I listened to him and he had his reasons. I didn’t like them, but I understood them and hearing them gave me the closure I needed to move on.”
“So you forgave him just like that?”
“Shit no!” she laughs softly and I smile. “It took years, we didn’t immediately get back together after that. I was in Paris and he was in England. It took another several years before our paths crossed again, but hearing why he did it allowed me to clearly process all the scenarios that were running through my head…like the ones you’ve been running through your mind for the past couple of weeks. It gave me the closure on all of it. There were no more ‘what ifs’, I knew and I began living again.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive him,” I mutter.