Fighting History (Fighting For Love Book 4)

by James, Marysol

  “Nick?” Her soft voice broke in to his hateful inner monologue.

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I know.” He had to tell her what was happening with him, no matter how much he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. “Now?”

  “No.” Mia shook her head. “Not before the wake. After. OK?”

  “Yes.”

  “You promise me?” she asked. “You’ll come to my place and we’ll talk? No excuses? No disappearing act? No early-morning lessons with new students?”

  It hurt him to hear her say this – it showed him that she’d lost trust and faith in him, and yet again, he berated himself for having put it off for so long. He’d been crazy to think that she wouldn’t know something was seriously wrong. The woman had his heart in her hands. She knew him as well as she knew herself.

  “I promise, Mia. We’ll talk. Today.”

  She nodded. “OK.”

  **

  Maggie looked around Chorus, trying to take in the scene fully. Joe’s restaurant was packed with people – family, friends, even Carrie had shown up – and Maggie was talking to everyone.

  The problem was that as soon as they hugged her and walked away, she had literally no memory of what the hell they had just talked about. She was sure it had been Rita, she was certain the person had offered their condolences, she vaguely recalled an invitation to come and stay with family for a while, if she wanted (who extended the invitation? I don’t remember). She was trapped in a bubble again, removed and separate. Like being underwater, she just heard the shapes of sounds around her: they were indistinct and far away from her.

  Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she shut her eyes, leaned back in to the solidity of Joe’s chest. Gently, he kissed the side of her neck, and suddenly, she was fully back in her body. She smelled the food being served by the circulating waiters; she heard the clink of glasses and the low murmur of voices.

  “Maggie? You doing OK?”

  She nodded, her eyes still closed.

  “Do you want to be alone tonight? Or do you want me to stay with you?”

  “Can I stay at your place?” she said.

  “You know you can.” He turned her to face him now, forced her to open her eyes and look up at his worried face. “Any time.”

  “Thanks. And not just for letting me stay… I mean, thanks for everything. I don’t know how I’d be getting through all this without you.”

  Joe stroked her hair. “You’d manage, sweetness. God knows, you’re tough enough, and your friends love you. But I’m happy to help… whatever you need, you know that.”

  She nodded again. “I just – I want this part to be over. I want to be at your place, in my pj’s and drinking a glass of wine and watching bad reality TV and crying at Hallmark commercials.”

  He grinned. “Soon, Maggie. Just hang in there, OK? I’ll binge-watch some Housewives nightmare and sappy ads with you, as long as you want.”

  “In your pj’s?”

  “Damn right.” He kissed her again, this time on the forehead. “Just stay on your feet for another few hours, baby. You can do it. I know you can.”

  And somehow, she did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nick stared at Mia, his face gray. He’d known it was going to be bad, but he hadn’t expected this.

  “When?” he asked, his voice guttural.

  “I’d leave in a month.” Mia’s beautiful gold eyes gazed at him calmly. “Grant sent me the plane ticket this morning, so it’s mine for the taking. If I choose to go.”

  Fighting down the insane urge to locate the ticket somewhere in her apartment and rip it to shreds, Nick got to his feet. He limped around her warm and welcoming living room, running his fingers through his dark hair.

  “I can’t believe you did all this without talking to me about it!” he burst out. “I mean… four months in Thailand? And not a hint that you were thinking about leaving me?” Even as he said the words, he knew how hypocritical they were, in light of what he’d been keeping from her.

  Her eyes flashed now. “Are you fucking for real? You’re actually accusing me of not trying to talk to you?”

  That stopped him. Mia almost never swore.

  “For weeks, Nick – weeks – you’ve been showing up here late, if you show up at all. You’re AWOL during the day when I call the gym. You’ve been limping badly for over a month – you won’t say one word how it happened, so for all I know, you’re in those underground fights that Mitch just got himself out of. You blow me off at the last minute, you refuse to talk about our relationship.” She bit her lip. “You won’t make love with me… won’t spend the night. You’ve stopped talking to me about everything.”

  “Well, yeah.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I just – I had the feeling you wanted to talk about something really serious, and I didn’t – I wasn’t ready to face any of it.”

  She glared at him, and he was taken aback at the force of her anger. “Well, then. You can’t complain now that I didn’t tell you anything! I was trying, Nick, and you knew I was trying. That’s why you were avoiding me, you asshole!” She got to her feet too. “You made damn sure that we didn’t have this conversation, so don’t you throw this back on me!”

  He held up his hands. “OK, OK, I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “Damn right I am.” She was still furious. “So what’s been going on with you lately, Nick? You going to tell me before I get on the plane, or do I get to leave the country still wondering what the fuck?”

  “Mia…”

  “What?”

  “I – I’ve been going to doctors. Specialists.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “Why?” Then she had a wave of intuition. “Your leg?”

  “Yeah.” Nick sat again and she sank down beside him. “It’s bad, angel.”

  “Tell me, right now,” she said. “No bullshit.”

  “I had a really serious leg injury years ago, when I still did karate competitively. A bad break in my left tibia, really ugly, lots of nerve damage. I was young and strong and recovered well… but the nerve damage never gets better. It ended my career years early.”

  “OK.”

  “And now I have a neuroma near the break site, in the front part of my lower leg.”

  Mia looked blank.

  “It’s basically a massive growth of nerve cells that have become disorganized and clumped together. It’s – it’s really painful.”

  “And what do we do about it?” she said.

  He looked away. “In most cases, injections help with the pain, so I’ve been getting some.” He rolled up his dress pants and she gasped at the purple and black marks all along his shin. “This is why I haven’t taken my clothes off with you, Mia. I didn’t want you to know about any of it. Not yet.”

  She stared at the bruises.

  He rolled his pants back down. “So, that’s where I’ve been during the day, at least sometimes.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “Consulting specialists about what surgery is needed to remove the neuroma.”

  “OK,” Mia said. “So when are they removing this mass?”

  Nick was silent.

  “What? Nick, what?”

  “In my case, with its size and the number of nerves, and where it’s located, it – it can’t be removed. Not in a local capacity, at any rate. Not with a simple procedure of entering and cutting it out.”

  “I don’t get what you’re saying. You just have to live with it? With the pain?”

  “No, I can’t do that either.”

  “So…”

  Nick looked up at her now, and she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “They have to take the lower part of my left leg.”

  There wasn’t enough air in the room suddenly.
<
br />   “You – you mean… what do you mean, they have to ‘take it’?” Mia felt sick. “You mean – remove it?”

  “I mean amputation.” He swallowed. “Just below my knee.”

  “Nick. Oh, my God.”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry. But I just – I couldn’t say it out loud. Not even to myself.”

  Mia was horrified when she saw the tears in his eyes, and she reached for him. “Come here, babe.”

  To her relief, he did. He almost fell in to her arms, holding her so tightly, it hurt. But she didn’t say one word about it; she let him clutch her and bury his face in her throat and sob, and she took his shaking in to her own body. She felt the anger and fear just rushing out of him, and she suddenly knew every single thing that Nick had been thinking for the past few weeks.

  He pulled back because he didn’t want you to see him as weak, or needing any help. He didn’t want to scare you, or worry you, or any of us. Maybe he even hoped you’d get angry enough to dump him; that way, you wouldn’t have to deal with any of it now. And he stopped talking about a future together because he was sure you wouldn’t want one with him – not anymore, not like this.

  He cried for a long time, and when he stopped, she stood up. He gazed at her blearily – wrecked and so young-looking – and she held out her hand. When he took it, she led him to her bedroom and undressed both of them slowly.

  Once they were both in their underwear, she lay down and pulled him in to bed with her. Mia curled up at his side, holding him, feeling him tremble. Minutes passed, and they breathed together, and she waited for Nick to come back to her. She was sure he would, this time.

  Chapter Twenty

  A little over two weeks later, Joe and his father Amos stopped by Maggie’s studio to check on the second apsara. She welcomed them in, smiled at Amos. He and Joe’s mother Claudia had been at Rita’s funeral, and she knew she’d spoken to them briefly at the wake afterwards. But she’d been so fuzzy and shocked, she barely remembered their conversation now.

  Amos gave her a hug. “How you doing, girl?”

  “Good. Better.”

  His blue eyes – eyes so much like his son’s – took her in. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Joe kissed her now, just a quick one on the cheek, but his lips burned her, scorched her with their heat. God, she wanted to make love to him; it was becoming an almost irrational need at this point. She dreamt about it at night, she daydreamed about it on the bus. Her desire for Joe was becoming all-consuming, and their resolve to take it slow was starting to make her crazy.

  “You OK, baby?” he murmured in her ear. That husky whisper had her wet and aching between her legs, and the bastard knew it. His grin was naughty and teasing, and all she wanted was to kiss it off his lips.

  “Uh-huh,” she managed. “You want to see her?”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I do.”

  Maggie blushed, somehow feeling like a dirty double-entendre had just taken place. “OK. Come on over.”

  The men followed her in to the main work area and stood, amazed and delighted. The bottom half of the second apsara was completely finished, and this one was even more graceful than the first one: less earthy, more a creature of air and cloud.

  Maggie was aiming for a dancing goddess who barely seemed to touch the ground, who seemed to float and fly. This apsara represented pure joy, and she was light and without a single earthly care. She had never known grief or pain, she'd never been hurt. She was free of all of that.

  “Well?” Maggie asked, nervous. “Is she OK?”

  “Maggie,” Amos breathed. “She’s glorious.”

  She looked at Joe. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Joe could barely take his eyes off the apsara’s joyful dance. “You’ve done it again.”

  “Thank God.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I was worried that everything would catch up to me a bit.”

  “It hasn’t,” Joe said gently. “You’re doing great.”

  “OK, then. I figure she’ll be done in about two weeks. Maybe a bit more.”

  “Perfect,” Amos said. “Let me know closer to the time, and I’ll arrange shipping to the restaurant for both sculptures.”

  “You’ll have a safe place to keep them?” she asked. “Away from the construction dust?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.” She smiled at both men. “So… I guess I’ll get back to work.”

  “No way,” Joe said. “That’s enough for tonight.” His eyes were serious, steady. “Have you eaten today?”

  Immediately, she looked away from his stare and he sighed.

  “So you haven’t.”

  “I’ve had… coffee. And a croissant!”

  “Right. And it’s five o’clock in the evening.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t care. Come on. We’re going to my place. I have food ready in the fridge. I’ll feed you.”

  “Joe,” she protested. “It’s fine. I’ll go home and…”

  “Nuh-uh. My place. Now. Let’s go.”

  She looked at Amos, pleading, but the older man shook his head. “No help from me, Maggie. You look pale and exhausted and I know you need a good meal. Go on to Joe’s, and I mean this instant. I’ll go back to the restaurant and sort out some paperwork, then I’ll head home myself.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Sure.” Amos waved his hands. “See you kids soon.”

  Maggie grinned at Joe. At thirty-three and thirty-five, they were hardly ‘kids’… but then again, Amos’ habit of calling her ‘kid’ and ‘girl’ was strangely endearing.

  “Goodnight, Amos,” she said. “See you.”

  “You bet. Claudia wants you to come over for brunch one Sunday. Maybe this weekend?”

  “Really?” Maggie asked.

  “Yep. You free?”

  She glanced over at Joe and he nodded. “Yeah, come on over to the house. Mom wants us to all have a meal together. She’s worried about you, wants to lay eyes on you herself.”

  “OK, then,” Maggie said, touched at being so cared for by his family. “Brunch it is.”

  “We’ll be there by eleven,” Joe told his father. “We’ll come over together.”

  Amos rolled his eyes. “Well, I assumed so, Joe. Seeing as you two are together.”

  They both blushed and averted their eyes.

  Amos sighed and muttered audibly under his breath. “Stupid kids. Wasting all this damn time.”

  **

  Maggie sighed in happiness as she entered Joe’s house. It was warm and familiar, and it always smelled delicious – like he’d just finished cooking an amazing meal there. Which, if she thought about it, he usually had done. He heard her soft exhalation, saw the tension start to move out of her shoulders, and he pulled her in to his arms for a hug.

  “You OK?” he asked softly. “Like, really OK?”

  “I am.” She leaned in to his body, feeling both aroused and relaxed. “I miss her so much, but I’m – happy. With you.”

  “Good to hear.” He kissed her forehead, her freckled nose. “Now, go get cleaned up. You’re a mess.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She glanced down at her clothes and hands. “What I do is so messy, huh?”

  “But you’re gorgeous, sweetness. Just fucking breathtaking.”

  Their eyes met, and the air between them almost crackled.

  “OK, so.” Maggie forced herself to look away. “How long ‘til dinner’s ready?”

  “I’ll stick it in the oven to heat now.” Joe glanced at the kitchen clock. “Forty minutes?”

  “Perfect.”

  Maggie wandered down the hall to Joe’s room, rummaged through her clothes. She’d brought over several things th
e week before – clothes, toiletries, some sketch pads for when inspiration struck – and he’d given her a key, told her to come and go as she pleased. She’d spent several nights here, Joe had stayed at her place many times, they’d spent some nights apart. Slowly, surely, they were figuring it out.

  Now if we can just figure out when we’re going to make love, ‘cause damn. I’m burning up for him.

  She stripped off her jeans and oversized t-shirt and stepped in to Joe’s shower. She loved it, and every single time she used it, she felt like a Hollywood celebrity or something. It was a walk-in shower cabinet, roomy and bright, with sky-blue tiles, a small marble shelf for the shampoo and body wash, and a door with a brilliant blue stained glass star in its centre. She stood under the hot spray for a few minutes, eyes closed, just breathing.

  I love you, Mom. I miss you. I hope wherever you are, you and Daddy are together and happy. And at peace.

  Maggie heard the soft click of the shower door and she opened her eyes. Joe was standing right in front of her, huge, hard and naked. She stared at him through the steam, and the lust and want on his face as he looked her up and down pushed all the air out of her body. Suddenly dizzy with longing, she braced herself against the wall.

  He stepped in to the shower cabinet now, swinging the door closed behind him. She held her breath as he moved closer, and then he stopped.

  “Is this OK?’ he asked.

  Wordless, she reached for Joe and he caught her to him. His hands tangled in her long hair, and she fell instantly in to the moment – this moment. She forgot that anyplace existed outside of this glass cabinet, that there was anything besides Joe. She forgot her own grief, her fear for Nick, her worry for Mia. Maggie just grabbed hold of this place, this time.

  This man.

  He held her as close as he could, still disbelieving that she’d actually given him this second chance. His whole damn life had become about this woman: being there for her, pulling her through. Loving her.

  Joe leaned over a bit and reached for the shampoo bottle. He squeezed some of the fragrant liquid in to his palm. “Come here,” he said. “I’ve missed doing this.”