Fighting Blind

by C. M. Seabrook

  He touches my arm, close to where my mom’s nails cut through the skin.

  “Come up to my place. You need to clean these so they don’t get infected.”

  “Okay.” My voice is strangled and I can’t control the emotion that bubbles up, nearly choking me.

  I know it’s wrong, selfish, but as I follow Theo upstairs, all I want is to be wrapped in his arms, feel the strength of his body, and for just one night let someone else carry the weight of all my transgressions.

  Chapter 13

  Theo

  I’m still shaking with anger when I open the door to my apartment. I’ve seen the evil witch at work before, but it’s the first time she’s ever hit Mac in front of me. Now I wonder how many times it’s happened before.

  If Mac hadn’t pulled me away, I’m not sure what I would have done. I’ve never laid a hand on a woman before, but today I came pretty close.

  “Sit,” I order, pointing at the couch.

  When I come back from the bathroom with the first aid kit, she’s sitting with her legs curled under her, arms wrapped around her chest. She looks so fucking vulnerable.

  “She has no right talking to you like that.” I crouch in front of her, opening the kit.

  Mac shrugs, like she’s about to tell me it’s no big deal.

  I take her arm and press an antiseptic wipe on the small cuts. “I mean it. If she ever–”

  “I won’t be going back.” Her eyes are vacant, skin pale, except for the redness where the bitch slapped her.

  I reach out and touch her cheek. She flinches, then relaxes, pressing her face into my palm.

  “I don’t think she hit you hard enough for it to bruise, but you should put an icepack on it just in case.”

  She reaches for my hand when I start to rise. Not letting go, she looks at me, then averts her eyes. “Don’t go.”

  She doesn’t need to ask twice. I sit down beside her, pulling her onto my lap. Her arms go around my neck and she buries her face in my shoulder. I expect her to cry, almost want her to. Anything but the detached stoicism that looms over her like a gray cloud.

  “I won’t let her hurt you again.” I run my hand down her back, feeling her relax into me.

  Her fingers play with the hair at the back of my neck, absently.

  “You want to talk about what happened?” I brush her dark hair behind her ear.

  She shakes her head, her fingers trailing down my chest, across my stomach, then back up.

  I take a deep breath and catch her intoxicating scent. She smells so fucking good, and my body responds the way it always does when she’s close.

  “Theo,” she says my name, almost desperately, her lips crashing against mine.

  I cradle her face, taking her kiss.

  Her arms slide around my neck, fingers knotting in my hair. She moans and I nearly come undone. I’m so fucking hard it hurts. If I wasn’t sitting, her touch would have drove me to my knees.

  She tilts her head, and her tongue slides into my mouth. Her hands move frantically over my body, until she pulls at the hem of my shirt, urgently tugging it over my head.

  Her lips are soft, but there’s nothing gentle about the kiss. It’s frantic. Desperate. Pained.

  My heart is pounding hard, but this isn’t the way I want it. Not when she’s upset.

  “Wait.” I grip her hands when I feel a wetness on her cheeks. “Mac, stop.”

  She buries her face in my neck and I can feel the sob that she’s holding back.

  I rub my hands down her arms, warming the goosebumps that cover them. Then press a kiss on her temple, stroking her hair back.

  Her breathing is labored as if she’s fighting off a panic attack.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” I tuck my thumb under her chin, forcing her to look at me.

  Her eyes close and her tongue darts over her swollen lips. I run my thumb over her cheek, catching a giant tear.

  My stomach twists at the hopelessness I see in her eyes.

  “Talk to me. Please.”

  She shifts on my lap as if to move away, but I hold her hips, not letting her go.

  “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. Her lashes flutter open and she holds my gaze. Misery etched on her face. All of her brokenness exposed in that one look.

  I want to destroy the people that have done this to her. And I would if I didn’t think it would only hurt her more.

  “Please don’t hate me.” The words are so soft that I barely register them.

  “Hate you?” I rest my forehead against hers and shake my head. Was she serious? “Every day you were gone, it was like a piece of me was missing. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

  She sucks in an uneven breath, bringing her hand to my cheek. Her lips brush over mine, so faint I can barely feel the touch, then she pulls back.

  “Don’t,” she says, when I try to stop her from moving away. “I can’t be touching you when I tell you.”

  I frown, letting her go, feeling a new knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “Tell me what?”

  She shuffles to the other side of the couch, pulling her arms around her chest.

  “Tell me what, Mac?” I repeat, making her flinch. I suddenly feel like there’s an ocean separating us.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen.” She’s shaking.

  “Okay.” I try not to let my growing panic edge my voice. “Go on.”

  She breathes out heavily and closes her eyes, fingers clenched into fists.

  “When you kissed me. I knew you were drunk, but I didn’t know how much. I never would have…” She shakes her head biting on her bottom lip. “It was my fault.”

  My right eye twitches, and a cold sweat starts at the base of my spine. Pictures of a distorted memory start to sharpen.

  “What was your fault?” My back teeth clench so hard I’m surprised they don’t break.

  “We did more than kiss that night,” she mutters.

  “Fuck.” I stand quickly, feeling something inside of me break.

  “Did we…” I swallow hard. “Did we have sex?”

  She winces and nods.

  Fuck. Parts of the night come back to me like a bad movie. Her in my bed. Me on top of her. Shit, shit, shit. This is all wrong.

  Then it hits me like a hammer across my skull.

  Logan.

  I drag my fingers through my hair and look at her, heart beating erratically.

  “She’s mine? Is Logan mine?” The question lingers between us. When Mac doesn’t answer right away, I scream, “Tell me the fucking truth, Mac!”

  “Yes.” She pulls further into herself, unable to look at me.

  But right now I don’t care.

  Searing pain stabs at my chest. And Time stands still.

  I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I’m not even sure I can process what she’s just said.

  She couldn’t have shocked me more than if she’d put a knife in my heart.

  My entire body is numb. The only thing I feel is betrayal.

  “Theo, I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head, unable to form a complete sentence.

  She’s sorry?

  “Why?” Even though I can tell she’s on the verge of running, I can’t keep the rage from my voice. “How could you keep this…her… from me?”

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” I laugh bitterly. My throat has constricted, and I’m not sure how air is getting through. Clenching my fists I continue to pace, trying to grasp what the fuck is happening.

  “I’ll go,” Mac says, standing slowly.

  “That’s probably a good idea.” I need time to think.

  “I’ll have our stuff packed and be gone as soon as possible. If you could give me to the end of the week.”

  I move quickly, slamming the door closed when she opens it.

  “Don’t pull that bullshit on me. You think I’m going to kick you out?”

  “I just thought–”

  “The
problem is you didn’t think. You didn’t think about any of this.” Keeping my hand plastered on the door, I rake the other one across my face. “My God, Mac. How long were you going to keep this from me?”

  “I don’t know.” A flicker of something crosses her face, but I’m too angry to care what it is.

  I need space, but at the same time, I’m terrified to let her leave. Shit, what if she takes the kid and runs again?

  My brain is still on overload. I need to hit something. The only place I can do that is the gym.

  “Don’t even think about running.” I grip the door handle, knuckles whitening around it. “Understand?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbles.

  I don’t know if I believe her. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to believe anything she says again.

  I open the door, not able to look at her when she walks past.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says quietly.

  “You didn’t hurt me, Mac. You tore out my fucking heart.”

  Chapter 14

  Mackenzie

  I haven’t seen Theo in two days. I’ve heard him come in and out of the building, his heavy footsteps on the stairs, the pause in front of my door. But he hasn’t tried to see me or Logan since I told him about her.

  Not that I blame him. I know he’s angry, and he has every right to be.

  I lied to him. Shit. I’m still lying to him. There’s still so much he doesn’t know.

  My world has been slowly crashing down on me for the past three years, but it’s been on full throttle for the last two weeks, and I feel like I’m barely treading water here.

  I should tell him how I feel.

  Right. I shake my head. Because that will make everything better.

  Loving Theo Ryan used to be a minor complication in my messed up life. Now it’s a goddamn Greek tragedy.

  I sip my coffee and rub the back of my neck, trying to shake the impending doom that hovers over me like a dark cloud.

  The nursing application that Clair brought over sits on the kitchen counter, mocking me. A reminder of the dreams I once had. I run my fingers over the embossed print, and fight against the desire to believe in in a future that doesn’t involve running.

  I glance at the microwave clock while pouring a second cup of coffee. It’s already nine, and Logan is still sleeping. She never sleeps this late.

  Slowly I open her door and peek in. Despite the loud creek, she doesn’t move.

  The smell hits me instantly.

  “Logan?”

  A small whimper comes from the bundle of pink blankets. “Mama.”

  “I’m here, sweetheart.” I drop to me knees beside her bed.

  Vomit coats her hair, and when I touch her forehead, she’s burning up.

  I curse myself for not checking on her sooner.

  She’s limp when I pull her into my arms. Her eyes are half lidded, her cheeks bright red. She starts to cry, but it comes out more as a pathetic whimper.

  With her in my arms, I start a cool bath, and dial Clair, getting her voicemail.

  “Clair, please call me back when you get this. Logan is sick.”

  I hang up, shifting my daughter in my arms, and search frantically for the thermometer.

  She won’t keep it under her tongue, so I insert it under her tiny arm and wait until it beeps. One hundred and two. Shit.

  In the bathroom, I pull off her dirty clothes and rinse her down. My own sweatshirt is covered in God knows what, so I pull it off, stripping down to my bra.

  She cries when the cool water touches her skin.

  “Okay, baby girl, almost done.”

  Her eyes are glossy with fever and she can barely lift her arms when I pull her from the tub and wrap her in a towel.

  “Mac?” Theo’s voice echoes through the door followed by knocking. When I don’t answer right away, his fist pounds harder. “Mac. Open up. My mom just called, said Logan is sick.”

  Logan won’t let me put her down, so I call out, “Can you use your key?”

  I know he has one. And I’m right, because a few seconds later, the door handle rattles and he comes barreling down the hall and into Logan’s room, where I’m helping her into a clean pair of pajamas.

  “What’s wrong?” Theo’s eyes drift down to my practically bare chest, then to his credit, shifts quickly to Logan, his brows furrowed.

  “Probably just a stomach bug.” My voice is calmer than I feel.

  “E-O” Logan pouts up at him.

  “Hey, princess.” He crouches down beside us and rubs a hand over her head, then glances at me. The concern I see in his eyes drives a stake in the already open wound in my chest. “What can I do?”

  “There’s children’s Tylenol in the kitchen cupboard.”

  When he’s gone, I blink back the tears that have formed and pick Logan up, carrying her to the living room where Theo meets me with the purple bottle.

  “Can you hold her?” Not waiting for his response, I shift her into his arms, and take the Tylenol from him. I nod at the couch and turn on the cartoon channel. “Sit and I’ll give her the medicine.”

  He looks slightly uncomfortable as he sits down, like he’s trying not to break her. Logan doesn’t seem to notice. Whether it’s the fever or the cartoon that she’s now tuned into, she relaxes against his chest, and takes the purple liquid that I spoon into her mouth without complaint.

  “I need to strip her bed and do a load of wash. Are you okay with her for a bit?”

  When his eyes fall to my chest, I realize I’m still standing there in just my bra.

  “Yeah,” he says in a choked voice.

  I throw on a fresh shirt before returning with a sippy cup.

  “Make sure she drinks something.”

  He gives a small nod, brown eyes unreadable.

  “Thanks for coming over,” I mumble, then turn quickly towards Logan’s room.

  Now that he knows about her, it seems that much harder to see them together. Clair’s right. Logan needs her father, and Theo deserves to be in her life. But with Stefano still after me, I don’t know how that will ever happen.

  I strip Logan’s bed and throw the soiled blankets in the washing machine, then begin the tedious task of scrubbing the carpet and bed.

  When I’m finished, I find Logan fast asleep in Theo’s arms, her dark hair damp with sweat, thumb half in her mouth.

  “Her fever seems to have dropped,” Theo says.

  I place the back of my hand on her forehead and nod. She does feel cooler.

  “Do you mind if I have a shower? You can put her in my bed if you want, but I–”

  “I’ll stay.” His jaw is set, brown eyes hard as if daring me to challenge him.

  I give a small smile. “Thanks.”

  It’s probably wrong of me, but I’m glad Theo’s here. It’s the first time he’s been with her since I told him she’s his, and while I don’t expect anything from him, it does something to my insides seeing him with her.

  Stripping out of my dirty clothes, I step under the warm spray and close my eyes.

  How much easier would it be to stay? Maybe I could register for college. Work part-time at Charlie’s to help pay for it. I know Clair would help with Logan and I’m sure I could get a subsidy.

  I press my palms and forehead against the cold tile.

  What’s the worst that could happen if I stay?

  Stefano could find me. Find us.

  I could go to the police. Tell them everything. But then what? It’s my fingerprints on the bag. The cab driver would recognize my face. I could end up being charged. Go to prison. Then what would happen to Logan?

  Theo would take care of her. I flinch as the thought rushes into my head.

  Despite the heat of the water, a shiver runs down my spine and tears prick at the edges of my eyes.

  I feel the fight go out of me. I can’t do this anymore. The running. The hiding. The lying.

  It’s time to tell him everything. Maybe he’ll hate me even
more than he already does. But at least I won’t be hiding anymore.

  There’s a sharp knock at the front door when I exit the bathroom.

  Expecting Clair, I freeze with the door half open. The man standing on the other side isn’t just big, he’s a freaking giant. I stand there like an idiot staring up at him, mouth open, eyes wide. I recognize him from the gym. One of Theo’s training partners. Muscles, tattoos, a cocky smile.

  Moody Brock.

  One dark eyebrow raises and he smirks, eyes lowering to wear I clutch my towel protectively around my chest.

  “Ca-can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Theo. He missed our morning training session. Is he here?”

  “Yeah.” I shake my head and open the door wider, placing my finger to my mouth, so he knows to be quiet.

  He frowns, then follows me down the hall to where Theo is spread out on the couch, eyes closed, a sleeping Logan in his arms.

  The giant clears his throat.

  Theo’s eyes open wide as if startled. He looks between us.

  “Shit, man. You playing house now?”

  Theo clenches his jaw, looking down at Logan. When he shifts to stand, I move quickly to take Logan from him. He hands her over with some hesitation.

  “What’re you doing here?” He bites out, glowering at Moody.

  “Saving your fucking ass. You missed training and there’s a media crew downstairs waiting for an interview.”

  “Shit.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair. He looks at Logan who’s starting to wake up, then up at me. “I can stay.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “We’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?” He stares at me, brown eyes locked on mine.

  “Yeah,” I say, forcing the word out of my mouth. I keep my expression light, trying to hide the anxiety stirring inside me.

  I’ve been alone for three years, I don’t know why it bothers me so much now.

  He gives a sharp nod, then starts toward the door, Moody shadowing after him, like a brooding bulldog.

  At the door, Moody turns to me and growls under his breath, “You better not be fucking with him.”

  Stunned by the unexpected anger I see in his face, I just blink up at him. I know the look he gives me, what he thinks of me, and I shrivel under his dark gaze.