The Final Fight

by JB Salsbury

  “You cramping up?”

  “No, actually, I feel really loose.”

  He stops walking and narrows his eyes on me. “You’re limping.”

  Shit. I am? I can’t not limp because the pain in my hip is bad, so I just stop walking. “No, I’m not.”

  “AJ.”

  I drop to my butt in the grass on a slight hill, legs bent trying to keep my head from falling between my knees. “I’m fine. I just need to—”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  I follow his piercing glare to my hip where my shorts have ridden up to expose an angry red scar. I shuffle back, tugging my shorts down in a frantic attempt to cover what little he saw. “Nothing.”

  He’s down in a squat at my side, and before I’m able to stop him, he wrenches the side of my shorts up. “Fuckin’ hell . . . what the fuck—?”

  I smack his hand off the fabric and push through a little discomfort as I stand back to my feet.

  His eyes follow me up, but he stays in a crouch, his jaw hard and his gaze glistening with a mix between worry and anger. “What happened to you?”

  It doesn’t sound like a question as much as a demand. I smooth my shorts with sweaty palms and carefully but quickly scoop my water bottle up from the grass. “It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal? AJ, that’s some Frankenstein-looking shit right there.”

  “If you don’t like it, then don’t look at it!” I swig from my water bottle, feeling the burn of tears on the backs of my eyes.

  With his elbows propped on his crouched thighs, he studies our surroundings as if he’s trying to regain his composure. “You didn’t quit Eros,” he says to the empty space in front of him.

  “I told you I didn’t quit.”

  Pushing to stand, he closes the space between us until my head is tipped back to see his eyes. “You got hurt.”

  I nod, but it’s quick and jerky.

  “Fuck.” He blows out a long breath and rubs the back of his thick, sweaty neck with his good hand. “I’m sorry I accused you. I was a dick.”

  “It’s in the past. And, uh . . .” I tug at the hems of my shorts. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not go back there.”

  “What happened?”

  “I fell. Broke some bones that needed surgery to repair.”

  He pulls his hat off, tucks it under his bad arm, and runs a hand over his sweaty hair, back and forth and back and forth until it’s standing straight up. “When?”

  “Months ago.” I’m purposefully vague. “I tried to go back to performing . . .” I shake my head rather than finish my thought. How can I talk about pain and suffering with a man who has been through so much of both?

  His green eyes are like laser beams on me. “You’re in pain now?”

  I shrug. “It’s not too bad.”

  He shakes his head, pops his hat back on, and seems to collapse with his ass to the ground. “But you loved performing; you were taking care of your parents.” He tilts his head back to look up at me. “How did you manage . . .?” He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. Moneybags.” He drops his chin to stare at the grass between his feet.

  After a few long and very silent seconds, I sit down next to him, biting back a groan as my hip protests the movement. “Ya know he’s not a bad guy.”

  I could never bring myself to say anything bad about Andre. I have no idea what would’ve happened to me, to my parents, if it weren’t for him. If only I could’ve convinced myself to fall in love with him. Life, this—whatever this is between Braeden and me—would all be so much easier if I could walk away.

  “Yeah.” He tilts his head to meet my eyes. “I think I’m starting to see that.”

  Whatever levity there was in Braeden all morning has disappeared, and although he doesn’t seem as angry as he usually is, he seems more detached.

  “So.” I lean back on my hands. “Tomorrow night. Do you want me to meet you at the chapel?”

  “Yeah, that’s probably best.” He picks a few blades of dried grass from his Nikes. “The wedding party has to be there early. You don’t need to hang around for all that—”

  “What time?”

  “Three o’clock. The ceremony isn’t until five.”

  I shrug and tilt my face up toward the sun. “I can come early. I’m sure Layla will need an extra set of hands, what with her daughter getting married and Jack running around.”

  “You’d do that?”

  I turn and consider his handsome face, scars and all. “You know I would.”

  His lips tick up into a smile. “Would it be alright if I pick you up then?”

  “Layla’s car has better AC, so I’d be grateful if you could.”

  “Layla’s car . . .” he says almost absently as he gazes just past me at nothing. “I want to show you something.” He hops to his feet and offers me his good hand.

  I take hold, and he pulls me up like I weigh nothing. Our hands stay linked together for a second too long until he clears his throat and releases his grip.

  “Come on.”

  I trail along behind him toward the far side of the park. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  ~*~

  Braeden

  God, I feel sick to my stomach.

  First with the news that AJ had been injured.

  Second with the realization that I’d been a complete fuckface for accusing her of quitting.

  The final blow was realizing that, when she needed someone most, it was Richie Rich who saved her ass.

  Not me.

  He really is the hero, and I’m the sad fucking scarred-up prick who couldn’t do more than what one hand required to take care of her.

  I don’t have much to give her, but I can give her this. AJ deserves to know how much her stubborn obnoxious ass really did bring me back, even if only just a little.

  My gut flutters when my feet move from grass to pavement then to asphalt. I stop, spin on her, and watch as she looks from me to around the parking lot in confusion.

  “I don’t understand.” She scans our surroundings. Strands of her chestnut hair blow in the breeze, and I resist the urge to tuck them back behind her shoulder. I watch in fascination as she figures it out. Her jaw falls loose on its hinges; her eyes widen and slide to me. “Oh my God . . . you did it.” She takes a few steps toward the GTO that’s still at least five yards away. “You did it!”

  “Actually . . .” I shrug. “You did it.”

  Without warning, she rushes and, in two long strides, hurls herself into my chest. I wrap both my arms around her waist, and even though it hurts, I squeeze her tight. It feels so good to have her body pressed to mine, so familiar, and although it seems like it’s been forever since I’ve held her like this, it somehow feels like it was just yesterday.

  If I’m not imagining it, she’s holding onto me just as tight.

  “I knew you could do it, Braeden.” She presses her face into the scarred side of my neck as though it’s not a gory monstrosity but rather the safest hiding spot. “I never stopped believing in you.”

  Her breath on my skin, her sweet scent swirling my senses, and her warm body pressed in close short circuit my brain. I release her enough to slide her down my body but not enough to put any distance between us.

  Watery hazel eyes blink up at me, and the high of having her like this is better than any liquor buzz.

  Without thinking of the consequences or the possible fallout, I follow the unbreakable pull between us and lower my mouth to hers. Fuck me, it’s like coming home.

  I expect her to turn away, to slam her lips closed and deny my intrusion.

  But she shocks the shit out of me by tilting her head. She softens her lips so much so that they open, and her tongue tentatively brushes against mine.

  The trigger is instant.

  I fist her shirt, digging my fingers into the flesh of her lower back. She pushes up on her tiptoes, her hands crawling over my shoulders to lock behind my nec
k. Our tongues lash against each other in a desperate attempt to make up for all the months they went without. The salt of our combined sweat is a primal aphrodisiac, and a growl claws its way up my throat. I nip at her upper lip only to swallow her answering moan.

  We’re like animals who’ve been given fresh meat for the first time in months, ravenous, starving for what the other is offering.

  It’s only when I hear a car door slam nearby that rational thoughts slam back in.

  I break the kiss and put inches of space between us. My eyes closed, I focus on my breath, needing to calm the fuck down before I drag her back to my car and fuck her until she’s branded on the interior.

  “Damn . . . that was an accident.” My voice is rough and so heavy with lust and want it shocks even me. “I’m sorry.” I need to step away, but I can’t seem to force myself to let her go.

  She rests her forehead between my pecs, her shoulders rising and falling at the same pace as my own. “I don’t know what just happened there.”

  I hear the guilt weighing down her voice, and it’s enough that I’m able to release my hand to rub her back before stepping away to give her some room.

  Not only am I not her hero, I just made her a cheater.

  “Don’t feel bad, AJ. That was my fault.”

  “I saw the car and I . . .” She sniffs and swipes at her eye. “I’m sorry.”

  I release her completely and take two steps back. “Hey, just forget about it, okay? Pretend it never happened.”

  Hurt flashes across her expression, and I imagine she’s thinking about how she’s going to tell what’s his face and how he’ll respond.

  I don’t want to mess things up for her.

  “It was just a kiss. Easily forgotten.” My chest cramps as the words continue to come from my mouth. “Friends do it, maybe not like that, but—don’t make it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

  The pain in her eyes intensifies. Shit. I’m so bad at this.

  “How ’bout a ride?” I motion to the GTO. “Let me show off all your hard work.”

  She sniffs again, nods, but doesn’t smile. “Okay, sure.”

  I walk to the car and make myself go to the driver’s side rather than the passenger to open her door. After all, friends don’t open car doors for friends.

  And that’s all we’ll ever be.

  I’ll make sure of it.

  Thirty-two

  Braeden

  I’m staring at a condo building in a decent part of town, wondering where the hell I am. I check the address AJ gave me and match it to the one on the classy concrete and stone structure.

  It all lines up. Matches. And yet I still don’t know where I am.

  I understand why she wouldn’t want me picking her up at the Kairos. Not only have I been banned from the property, but us jumping in my car together dressed like we’re headed to a black-tie event would only incite rumors.

  The only explanation for my being here that makes sense is that she chose to have me pick her up from a friend’s house.

  I fold out of the GTO, and I’m grateful for the shaded pathway that leads me to the door. I was able to get myself mostly dressed, the only things I’ll need help with being the tie and those fucking cufflinks. Although the jacket to my tux is hanging in the back of my car, the long sleeves and black slacks aren’t making the ninety degrees easy.

  As I get closer to the door, I notice a resort-style pool just beyond the two-story condo complete with padded loungers and a decorative waterfall.

  “Nice,” I whisper to myself and wonder briefly if they have any vacancies. I’ll eventually be needing a place to live that isn’t owned and paid for by my brother. This wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

  I approach the door and knock. Preparing for an unfamiliar face, I turn my scarred side away to avoid scaring the shit out of whomever answers. When the lock clicks and the door swings open, I’m hit with a cool blast of air conditioning and the gentle smell of cinnamon and apples.

  “Hi.”

  I turn to face AJ as she stands in the doorway, and it takes a few seconds to find my voice as I admire her. The dress she’s wearing is totally strapless, showcasing her smooth, tan shoulders and upper arms. The color of it is hard to describe, almost pink but also tan . . . like a rose that’s covered in dust. It’s form-fitting, hugging her curves in a lacey-type shit that makes me think of expensive lingerie. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s wearing a simple necklace and earrings, just enough that it doesn’t take away from her pretty face—

  “Braeden?”

  “Huh?” I snap out of it and clear my throat of the thick desire that will surely coat my voice. “You . . . look. I mean . . .” Fuck, spit it out, asshole. “Really pretty.” I pull at my collar, and even with the top buttons open, I feel like I’m suffocating.

  She tilts her head and smiles, those hazel eyes lighting with humor. “You look really pretty too.” I laugh, and she steps back to let me inside. “I just have to grab my purse. Make yourself at home.”

  I watch her hips swing as she retreats to the staircase, and I’m unable to look away until she’s up the stairs and out of sight. I study the living space, and it seems new: fresh carpet, decent-sized kitchen with modern appliances, very little in the way of decoration. There’s nothing on the walls, and in the spot where a television should go, there’s only cable wires sticking out of the drywall.

  It’s when I head deeper into the condo that something familiar catches my eye: AJ’s couch.

  I’d recognize that thing anywhere.

  I step up to it and run my hand along the armrest as porno-worthy memories flash behind my eyes, from the first night we tumbled to the floor at the foot of this piece of furniture to the morning she straddled me on it wearing nothing but my T-shirt. All the blood in my head rushes to one place and strains the cotton of my boxer-briefs.

  “I’m all set.”

  With my hand still on the couch, I turn to see AJ looking the same as she did when she opened the door, but now with a small purse tucked under her arm and what looks like a fresh coat of lip gloss on her kissable lips. “You live here.”

  I watch as she swallows hard as if my question makes her nervous. But why? “Yes.”

  I swing my gaze around the room, to the stairs, and back to her. “With him?”

  She rolls her lips together the way women do when they put on lipstick. Then she stares at the floor for a couple of seconds before looking back at me and shaking her head.

  Something big and hot detonates behind my ribs and seeps into my arms and legs, making them tingle. Is it . . . hope? “You’re gonna have to use your words, AJ,” I growl as my skin practically vibrates with a mix of excitement and dread.

  Her answer could break me in ways that I can’t even begin to count.

  “No, Andre doesn’t live here with me.”

  That single statement is like a shove backwards, and to cover my surprise, I simply sit on the couch. My elbows resting on my thighs, I tilt my head to look at her. “I thought you lived with him.”

  Now she crosses to me, not close enough to touch, but so close I can smell the delicate scent of her perfume. She never once takes her eyes off mine. “I did. Now, I don’t.”

  “So . . .” Piece it together, man. Put two and two together. “You broke up?”

  She dips her chin.

  “Words, AJ. Please.”

  “Yes, Andre and I are no longer together.”

  “Since when?” To think I’ve been beating myself up, feeling guilty as shit for the kiss we shared yesterday, and they’re not even together.

  “Braeden, we should get going. You don’t want to be late—”

  “Since when, Adeline?”

  She blows out a big breath and pulls back her shoulders. “Since the charity event. But I officially moved out a few days ago.”

  “Fuck.” I put my head in my hands, wanting to pull my hair out, but feeling the stiffness of hair shit—thanks to Layla—I’m unable to. “Thi
s whole time I thought . . .” I was trying so hard, holding myself back, holding my feelings back, for the sake of not making things hard on her. “You should’ve told me.”

  “Why?”

  I glare, not at all appreciating her snarky tone. “Why?” I push to stand and cross to her, locking my arms to my sides to keep from taking her to the floor and covering her entire body in punishing kisses. “Because, AJ, I’m fucking in love with you.”

  Her hand flies to her chest and eyes wildly search mine.

  “I see this is news to you, which makes me think I did a fine job hiding it, but dammit, you should’ve known.”

  “I . . .” Her eyes glisten with tears. “You never said anything.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t realize it until it was too late and—you know what? Fuck this.”

  I shove my hand into her hair and crush my mouth to hers.

  I’m not gentle, and there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. Her sticky lip gloss smears both our faces as I devour her mouth.

  Her hands fist into the sides of my shirt, nails biting against the damaged skin at my side. I hiss at the contact as it sends heat roaring through my veins. The kiss turns impossibly hungrier, and I bite her bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh between my teeth. She moans low and long and—fuck me—I need her naked. Now.

  I palm her breast possessively over her dress and squeeze. “I want you.”

  Her fingers fumble with the front of my pants, and I walk her back to the wall. Using my good arm, I wrench her dress up to her waist so hard I hear the pop of stitches.

  Without preamble, I dive my hand into the front of her panties and groan to find her hot and wet. “You want this.”

  Her breath hitches as I slide two fingers inside. “I do.”

  With my face in her neck and my bad hand on her waist to steady her, I reacquaint myself with AJ’s body. I’m back where I belong after all these months of dreaming about it.

  She must realize I’m a little clumsy with my left hand, and she helps by rocking her hips against me.

  She tilts her head back and, with a quick maneuver, pops her breast from the bodice of her dress, offering it in invitation. I kiss a path down her throat and suck it deep into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the pebbled tip. “You’re so fucking hot.”