Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel
Page 25
She spun around and stalked to the other end of the ring. Heath had a hand pressed to the eye she gouged but fixed the other eye on her with unadulterated hate.
“Get out. Now.” She almost hoped he argued with her so she could call the police.
Heath rose, his shoulders hunched, his face jutting forward. She recognized his attempt at intimidation. He dropped his hand. His eye was bloodshot and puffy. “I would have gotten a choke-out if you hadn’t poked me in the eye. And don’t even try to pretend that wasn’t on purpose.”
“Damn straight it was. You appeared to concede the fight right before you tackled him. That would get you disqualified in any professional match, which is why you’ll never make it. Not to mention, you aren’t good enough and never will be. This was a once and done. No rematch. And no winner.”
“This ain’t over.” He pointed his finger like a parody of a movie villain and affected a redneck tough-guy accent when she knew darn well he’d grown up in a squarely middle-class neighborhood on the Mississippi side of the river.
She was tired of feeling inferior to him when she wasn’t. Nash had given her that. “You know what? It finally is, Heath. If you text or call or come within twenty feet of my apartment or this gym, I’ll get a restraining order. Grab your stuff and get out. And good luck finding somewhere else to train.”
Jack herded the two men to the front door, and Tally threw the bolt as soon as they were out.
“That fella was your ex?” Jack side-eyed her.
“I broke up with him months ago but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Nash thinks if he can beat him up like a third-grader on the playground, he’ll leave me alone finally.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re just a piece of this puzzle. He knew that fella when he was a kid, right?”
Jack’s face was stern, his skin brown and rough, long grooves carving his cheeks. Years of being battered by the ocean air had taken their toll. Yet she could see traces of Jack in Nash—the nose and the set of his jaw, stubborn and determined.
“Nash was picked on. A lot. I guess nowadays you’d call it bullying,” she said softly.
“Sometimes a man has to put his own past to rest before he can move on.”
His words resonated in the briar-filled patch she’d nurtured inside of her own heart.
Nash shuffled toward them. Reed was behind him, holding his gloves. She unlaced Nash’s helmet, pulled it off, and finger combed his sweat-dampened hair back. Next she ran her hands down his torso. None of his ribs seemed to be cockeyed, and he didn’t wince at her touch. She trailed her hands back up his chest and touched him close to the cut above his eyebrow. “You might need a couple of stitches.”
He grabbed both her wrists and dipped his face, but she didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine. Nothing that a couple of days without getting punched won’t fix.”
“What if you have a concussion?”
“I don’t, but if it makes you feel better you can wake me up every hour tonight.” His crooked smile held a sexual tease she was in no mood to acknowledge, much less return. She tugged her hands free.
Now that she was assured he wasn’t seriously injured, she released the reins on her emotions and shoved his shoulder. “For someone so brilliant, you are an idiot.”
“Look, I—”
“How long have you two been training?” She pointed back and forth between him and Reed.
Reed had the good sense to step behind Nash to avoid her gaze.
“Not long.” A hesitant hitch in Nash’s voice signaled he realized he was stepping into a minefield. “How did you know?”
“You threw some kickboxing moves in there. When and where?”
“Now and again.”
“Here?”
“After hours or at Reed’s place on his time off while you were working.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“So you decided not telling me was the way to go?”
He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry.” Impatience turned the apology trite.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
Nash’s hand tightened around the strap of his duffle, and he leaned forward. “Do you get how miserable Heath Parsons made my life?”
“You and Reed went behind my back to train for a fight you knew I did not approve of. You lied to me.” Emotions vied for dominance—anger, fear, love. She didn’t want him to see any of it.
“I didn’t lie. Not exactly. You stopped asking.” It was a weak excuse and by his tone, he realized it too.
She took a step closer and jabbed a finger at his chest, her voice dropping. “You kept secrets from me, Nash. And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, a complicated range of emotions crossing his face. “I needed to do this. Can you understand that?”
She would try to understand it later. Maybe. “Since you opened the gym, you can lock it up, Reed. I’m outta here.”
“Tally—” Nash extended a hand.
She didn’t acknowledge him, but pushed through the door and strode down the sidewalk. He didn’t follow her.
She slowed as she approached her car. A lone figure stood on the riverbank, looking over at the Mississippi side of Cottonbloom. She continued on until she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Sawyer. Maybe he could help sort out this mess.
“Look.” He gestured toward a three-foot square track of green stems denuded of their blossoms. “Regan has gone too far this time. She knows why I planted these flowers. What they mean.”
The anger and hurt in his voice took Tally aback and took the focus off her problems. “What do they mean?”
“They’re for Mama,” he said so softly she almost didn’t hear. “While you were out playing with Nash, and Cade was in the garage with Daddy, I would help her with the flowers.”
Even though Sawyer reminded her forcibly of their father, he’d been a mama’s boy. Maybe for the same reasons their father and mother fit together so well. Tally and her mother had been too much alike, reticent and serious, to be confidants.
They longer they stared at the carnage, the more something niggled at her.
“I’m going to lay into her.” He puffed up with a big breath and took a step.
The something that was niggling snapped into place. She caught his wrist. “It wasn’t Regan. Lordy, I think it was Uncle Del.”
He swiveled his head toward her, even as the rest of his body strained toward the footbridge. “What?”
She gave Sawyer a brief rundown of her and Nash’s discoveries regarding their uncle’s love life and added, “He asked Nash whether wildflowers were still Ms. Leora’s favorite.”
“Wow.” He ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “I guess that lets Regan off the hook.” More than simple relief lightened his words. She studied her brother, but couldn’t discern how he felt about his ex-girlfriend. “What’re you doing out here? Working on the gym’s part in the festival?”
His question stoked her anger. “Heath and Nash went at it at my gym without telling me.”
“Was Nash hurt?”
“No, but Heath fought dirty, and he could’ve been.” Sudden tears clogged her throat.
“Heath is a d-bag. You don’t know how many times I wanted to take him in the swamps and dump his ass.”
“You never said you didn’t like him.”
“I was afraid if I voiced my disapproval, it would have only made you like him more. I’m glad you finally saw past his bad-boy act to the jerk underneath. You deserve a nice guy.”
She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? She rubbed the corner of her eye hoping Sawyer wouldn’t notice her unusual state of upheaval. Fat chance. He pulled her into a hug. Cade had been her rock growing up, but Sawyer had been her teddy bear. Always there with a shot of much-needed optimism and enthusiasm.
“Nash is a nice guy.” His chin moved to the top o
f her head.
“He knew I didn’t want him to fight, but he did it anyway. Behind my back.”
“All right, stupid about women, but he cares about you.” A smile was in his voice.
“I’m really mad at him right now.”
“Daddy used to go fishing when he and Mama had a fight. You remember?”
She pulled out of his hug. “They never fought.”
“They tried not to do it front of us kids, but they fought, all right.”
Her memories skewed. She didn’t doubt Sawyer. Of the three of them, he was the most intuitive about other people. “What did they fight about?”
“Money. Family. The usual. Daddy would disappear for a couple of hours in the boat. Mama would bake. By the time he came home with a cooler of fish, a pie or cake or cookies would be in the oven and they’d kiss and make up. It’s okay to be mad. Doesn’t mean you have to stay mad forever.”
“Why aren’t women beating down your door?” She was not asking rhetorically. Her brother was good-looking, considerate, and nice. Why weren’t the women of Cottonbloom staking a claim on him?
“Who says they’re not?” He squinted at the blue sky.
She hung out at his place enough to know they weren’t. Maybe he’d cycled through all the available women. Or had Regan Lovell ruined him so many years ago?
Before she had the chance to ask, he said, “I hope this incident isn’t going to affect the exhibition fight for the festival.”
She made no effort to disguise her eye roll. “Is the mudbug festival all you can think about?”
“I’d prefer you refer to it as the crayfish festival. Mudbug might turn off the city folk we’re trying to attract through our quaint slice of Americana here.”
“You’re going to make me wear overalls and go barefoot, aren’t you?”
“Would you?”
The hopeful tease in his voice drew a small smile to her face. “The exhibition is still on. Talk to Reed about it if you want.” She backed away.
“Where are you headed?” He was back to sounding worried.
It was as if their daddy was looking down on them. “To the river.”
Sawyer hesitated as if he wanted to say more, but nodded and let her go, pushing his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
She was mad at Nash, mad at herself, but mostly she was disappointed and hurt. It had taken a lot for her to trust Nash. And, she did—had. Did. She still trusted him and loved him, but knowing Nash had not been upfront with her was painful.
But could she really judge? She had hidden her dyslexia, the seriousness of Heath’s stalking, her loneliness from everyone. Shame had made her bury her secrets. Had Jack been right? Had the need to eradicate old shames driven Nash to fight Heath?
She parked at the end of the dead end street and took the path to the river. It had been a long time since she’d sought solace from the river. She dangled her feet over the side of the bank, but the water was too low to reach with her toes.
How could they leave the past behind them and focus on building a future when the past surrounded them?
The river flowed. The water, sparkling and new; but the banks, muddy and rife with exposed roots, were unchanging. Perhaps, that was the point. Not to leave the past behind, but to shore it up until it was strong enough to support the future.
“Hi there.”
Tally startled. Birdie popped out from behind a tree in shorts and a T-shirt with a rainbow-colored unicorn across the front.
“How do you do that? Do you have a network of underground tunnels?” Tally asked, only half-joking.
A perplexed expression came across the little girl’s face. “No, just walked up. You were thinking hard and didn’t hear me.” Birdie joined her on the bank. “Whatcha thinking about? A boy?”
“Maybe.” Amusement bubbled out of the stew of emotions upsetting her stomach, but she kept her response confined to a twitch of her lips.
“Is it Nash?” Birdie felt no such compulsion and gave her gap-toothed grin. The white jagged edges of new front teeth were pushing through her gums.
“Maybe.” Tally flashed the girl a smile before her amusement faded back into uncertainty. “We had a fight.”
“’Bout what?”
“About a fight, actually. A different sort of fight.”
“I heard Mr. Nash was planning to beat up some man at your gym. That what you’re talking about?”
Tally cocked a leg up on the bank to face Birdie. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Heard Daddy say. Apparently everyone is talking about it.” Birdie sounded so adultlike that Tally suppressed another smile. “Daddy hoped Nash won. Did he?”
“Neither one of them won, but Nash played by the rules, the man he fought didn’t.”
Tally had accepted that Heath Parsons was the kind of man she deserved. That her dyslexia was some penance she had to pay instead of a hurdle to overcome.
No longer. She deserved more. Better. Not just in her love life, but her life in general.
She’d worked hard and turned her gym into a thriving business. She had two brothers who loved her and friends who cared about her. And Nash. No matter how childish she considered the grudge he held against Heath, she understood it on some level, because wasn’t she being just as childish about her dyslexia?
“You’re a cool kid, Birdie. Do you know that?”
“Yeah.” Birdie nodded. “I know.”
Tally laughed so loud a pair of birds flew out of the trees across the river and the plop of frogs escaping to the water sounded below their feet. “You could be president, you know. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t. President Margaret Thatcher sounds good.”
“I like it too.” Birdie grinned. A whistle cut through the trees. “There’s Daddy. We’re going to town to get Mama a birthday present.”
Birdie took off like a wild animal through the trees before Tally had a chance to even wave. She hoped the little girl never lost her attitude that anything was possible. Somewhere between her parents’ deaths and her struggles in school, Tally had lost sight of the endless possibilities. Nash had helped open her eyes, but it was up to her to explore them.
A plan took shape as she stared into the flowing river. A plan she needed to implement on her own.
Chapter Seventeen
The week passed in fits and starts. She stayed busy, but Nash was never too far from her thoughts. The gym had been her only focus for years. Besides Ms. Effie and Monroe, she hadn’t developed relationships outside of her business. Or hobbies, for that matter. The gym had been her safe, comfortable place.
Her first order of business was to hire someone trustworthy to help her and Reed cover the early openings and late closings, so they could both have more time off. If her expansion plans had to be pushed out, then so be it. Or maybe she’d take Cade at his word and accept a loan.
Jack Hawthorne pushed through the doors with a smile. They shook hands before Tally gestured him around to the working side of the front desk.
“Can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. It’s slim pickings out there for a man my age.” He smoothed a hand over a crisp blue button-down to equally crisp khakis, his jitters obvious.
“Believe me, you’re doing us a solid.” She booted up the software that managed the memberships and payments. While the program loaded, she glanced over at Jack. “How’s Nash feeling?”
“His head is fine, but his heart ain’t doing so good. He’s tearing himself up about you. Not sure what to do.”
“He knows where to find me.”
A troubled look flashed over his face. “That’s what I told him.”
If Nash didn’t man up by the end of the week, she’d seek him out. But for now she had other things to focus on. “Now then, how are you with computers?”
The next hour passed with Tally teaching him the ins and outs of the system. While he told people Nash got his brains from his mama, the intensity he focused on each task reminded her of Nash.
With the last of the evening crowd gone, Reed and Jack were completing the closing checklist. The bells over the door jangled. Tally looked up from the reading center’s brochure.
Ms. Leora stood in the doorway, wearing a dress and low heels, her pocketbook held in front of her like a shield.
Shock held Tally in place a few beats longer than was polite. “Ms. Leora, good evening.” She came around the desk and gestured the lady farther into the gym, but Ms. Leora remained planted, her gaze scanning the floor. “Nash isn’t here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”
Ms. Leora took a couple of shuffling steps forward, stumbling on the edge of a rubberized mat. Tally caught her arm, steadying her.
“Is Jack here?” She sounded flustered.
“He’s in the back. Let me—”
“Wait.” She clamped Tally’s upper arm, her hand cool and soft. “I’m sorry for everything, Tallulah.”
Ms. Leora’s eyes were the same soft, encompassing brown as Nash’s. Tally had never noticed. Years of regrets and resentments seemed to melt like cotton candy left in the sun.
“It’s all right.” She patted the hand still wrapped around her arm.
Forgiveness was easy to find. Maybe it was because she was no longer playing a victim to her own life. Maybe it grew from the love she’d discovered through and in Nash. Maybe it was true that time healed all wounds. All she knew for sure was that sides had shifted. The river no longer separated her from Ms. Leora. Their love for Nash and Delmar united them.
Ms. Leora grabbed for her hand and squeezed. “I’m worried about Nash.”
The warm fuzzies turned frigid. “What’s happened?”
“I overheard Nash on the phone. He and that man might be fighting again tonight. I thought he might be here.”
“Why is he doing this?” she muttered between clamped teeth. Louder, she called, “Jack. Reed.”