Love Hurts

by Mandi Beck

  “Make a gym time for tomorrow and line up some punks for me to beat up and toss around.”

  Brows raised, he watches me for a second before responding.

  “All right then. Done.” Taking a swig from his bottle, he looks at me over the rim a little pensively.

  “Spit it out, Jameson. I know you want to fucking say something.” Uncrossing my arms, I pull a platter out of the cabinet and wait for him to tell me what he’s thinking.

  He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue, and finally he says, “Do you want me to work around Frankie’s schedule? She’s there a lot more often now, but I can work it out, Deac. I mean, you can’t dodge her forever, but I need you focused, and with them teaching couples classes…” He trails off.

  Breathing deeply, I set the steaks down on the counter.

  “Are they together now?” I ask in a low voice.

  Mav is quick to jump in.

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that at all, Deacon. They’re just teaching a class to couples, mostly people wanting to learn a dance for their wedding.” Mav hops down from where he’s been sitting, grabbing the condiments I set out and brings them over to the table.

  Once we’re seated, my appetite all but gone, I eye the beer in Sonny’s hand. Before I can snatch one for myself, Sonny cuts in, “You can’t be drinking right now, Deac. We’ve let you slide with training here instead of at the gym, and that’s only because you have such a fantastic setup. This fight is too important to let you fuck around with your conditioning, my man. Sorry.”

  Flipping him off, I pile steak and veggies onto my plate and dig in. He’s right. This is it—I have to beat Billy “The Kid” Dair and I’ll get my chance at the strap. I have to channel all of this pent up anger I have, the hate and rage banging at my insides to get out, and take this fucker to task. Once I have that locked down, there’s nothing that can stop me from getting my girl. I just have to keep my fucking head a little while longer, do this shit in order. Stick and move, stick and motherfucking move.

  There’s nothing more important to me than Frankie, but what kind of man would I be, how formidable a fighter, if I gave it all up to chase after her like some kind of pussy? Do I want her? More than my next breath, but I also know I have to be worthy of her and being a quitter will not make me worthy of the Princess. I’m not saying that she couldn’t, wouldn’t love me if I lost. I could never love a bitch who operated on that level, but I know my girl and she’d lose respect for me if I threw it all away, and that’s unacceptable. It’s go time. She may be my biggest weakness, but in no way does that make me weak—quite the opposite. There is no room for pussies in the cage. It’s do or die, and I’m ready. I have a lot of work to do, a lot of fighting, and I know that the toughest fight won’t be for the belt but for Frankie.

  One of the things I love about dancing with Cristiano is that I don’t have to think. He leads and I follow, which is good because my mind is constantly on Deacon. I miss him so much it hurts. It isn’t just my lover, my boyfriend, that I miss, it’s my best friend. The person that I go to for everything has been snatched away from me and I feel bereft without him. I need him. My heart physically aches from the Deacon-sized hole dead center.

  I’m scared more often than I want to admit, and I don’t know who to turn to. I’m surrounded by these big, tough guys, all of whom care for me, but I only need one. I know that all I have to do is reach out. To tell him about the phone calls, the letters, and the pictures, and he would take care of it all, of me, but there is no way that I can right now. He has the fight coming up and he’s still hurt and angry. I know that’s why he hasn’t been here to train. He was barely able to restrain himself the last time I saw him here, and truth be told, Cristiano is lucky that he didn’t do worse. He deserved it and I don’t blame Deacon for reacting the way he did. I know what it must do to him to see Cristiano and me together, the same as it tore at my heart every time I saw Veronica hanging around. Worse because him and I are constantly touching one another, in each other’s arms. It’s pretty hard to dance without touching your partner. I’m just ready for all of this to be over. I want to not hurt any more, to not cry myself to sleep and pretend for everyone that I’m fine. I gambled on Deacon and I lost. Broken out of my thoughts by Cristiano dipping me nearly to the floor, I gasp, startled.

  “Where are you, mi amor?” he asks smoothly, as he kisses the corner of my mouth. His lips would have landed their target had I not turned my head. He’s becoming more and more bold with his advances. I would be lying if I said that I’m not flattered, maybe even tempted, because I am, but then I fight past all of that pain and confusion and let my heart remind me that it’s no longer mine to risk. Deacon is right -- I’m his girl whether I want to be or not.

  Swinging me gracefully back into his hold, he smiles sadly at me and places another kiss on my temple.

  “I’m having dinner with some of our friends, join me?”

  “Thank you, but no. I have a class that I want to prepare for and I’m more tired than usual this week. We’ve been really busy. Thank you again for all of your help, Cristiano.” Stepping out of his arms, I shoo him away. “Go, get out of here. I can handle the rest.”

  He bows with a flourish, then turns and saunters out whistling. I can’t help but smile at his dramatics.

  I look up from my sound system when I hear someone tapping on the glass that separates the studio from the gym. Smiling, I motion for Mav to come in. Norah Jones is singing “I’ve Got to See You Again” for about the tenth time when I hit mute, silencing the stereo. I’m concerned as soon as I see the edgy look on Mav’s usually carefree face

  “Hey, Princess. You left the blinds open,” he says in a flat tone, blinking slowly like that is supposed to mean something to me.

  Ummmm…okay.

  “I don’t usually close them, Mav,” I tell him with a little laugh like he’s being silly, which he kind of is.

  “You should if you want privacy; everyone in the gym saw you and Cristiano in here. He saw the two of you, Frankie.”

  Mav crosses his arms over his chest, widening his stance, and continues to stare at me as if I should know exactly what he is getting at, and I truthfully do not have a clue.

  “Privacy? We were working on a routine for one of my students and her partner, Mav. I don’t need privacy for that. And who is ‘he’?”

  I am completely baffled by this Maverick. Out of the three Loves, he is the most laidback, and for him to be confronting me about anything is out of character.

  “Deacon, Frankie. Deacon could see you. Was that kiss at the end choreographed as well or what?” he asks with a disapproving look.

  I don’t even bother to answer him. This is absurd.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but we just got him back in here training. Deac has been more reckless than I’ve seen him in a very long time and completely unmanageable, and I’m not blaming you, but it’s kind of your fault, you feel me?” With raised eyebrows he goes on, “It’s impossible for him to train like this, and you kissing Cristiano for everyone to see after dry humping each other all over the dance floor for the last hour is enough to put him over the edge.” There’s a muscle pulsing in his jaw as I stare at him in utter disbelief.

  “Dry humping? Really, Mav? It’s called the tango, you asshole, and trust me, Deacon doesn’t care as much about what I do with Cristiano as you may think,” I snap, although I know that to be a bald-faced lie. He cares very much. I’m just trying to diffuse the situation. Before I can get another word out though, he interrupts me.

  “That’s bullshit, Frankie. You didn’t see him when you were hurt—he was a wreck. Hell, we all were, but Deac—I’m just thankful that it was me that found you and not him, because as painful as it was for me, it would’ve killed my brother.” Maverick shakes his head, remembering a time we all just want to forget. “The man never left your side the whole time you were out. We had to make him go and take showers, and even that
was a battle. He was shattered by what happened to you. He’s just as wrecked now—it’s just a different kind of hurt he’s battling. So trust me, I know he gives a shit about what’s going on with Cristiano.”

  Now it’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. I try not to let what he said affect me. I can’t imagine what it did to Deacon; the very thought has tears pricking the backs of my eyes. Looking away from him, I tell him, “I’m not with Cristiano so there’s nothing to hide from him. I love Deacon, Mav. Whether he and I are together or not, I love him.”

  I turn my eyes to the glass wall of the studio, sighing. “It was one of the reasons that I was leaving Andrew that night. I was so confused about my feelings, I knew that there was no way that I could go through with the wedding plans when I felt so torn. I thought that Deacon and I might actually have a shot.”

  “So what the fuck happened, Frankie. I don’t get it!” he huffs, completely exasperated.

  “You know damn well what happened. Veronica showed up.” I laugh grimly. “She showed up and ran her mouth about how he was waiting on her and I believed her, because that’s the Deacon I’ve always known. The manwhore with girls lined up waiting to get a piece of ‘The Hitman,’ but this time I was one of them and it hurt.”

  “Oh, come on, you knew he wasn’t waiting for her. Veronica is a liar and he has been done with her for a long time. She started getting clingy and he stopped taking her calls. You—”

  “It doesn’t matter that he wasn’t waiting for her! You and I both know what happened when she got there,” I interject, pain lacing my words.

  Of course he knows. The Love brothers are close and they don’t keep anything from each other. It’s one of the many things I love about them.

  “So what, this thing with Cristiano is to punish him or something?” he snarls.

  “He messed around with her because he was pissed at me, Mav. She told him that she saw me leave with Cristiano, and instead of calling me to ask about it, he let Veronica blow him.” My hands curl into themselves, my fingernails cutting into my palm. “Had he called me, he would have known that I was in bed, alone, thinking about what the fuck those two were doing and trying to keep another panic attack from kicking my ass. However, he didn’t. He did what Deac does, and I’m okay with that now.” Yet another bald-faced lie. “I have since come to the realization that I cannot bear to lose Deacon in my life completely, and if we continue with our relationship, I will, I have! He’s too much for me, Mav, and I’ll never be enough for him.”

  Lips trembling, I swallow back the lump in my throat and smile sadly at him.

  “I need him, Maverick. He is my person, but we can’t be more than friends. I cannot be one of Deac’s girls, and with Deacon, that’s all I would end up being. Maybe not at first, because it’s me, but eventually that’s what would happen.”

  Blowing out a breath, I straighten my spine, managing to fight back any tears that were threatening still and hold his probing gaze.

  Eyes saddened by what I just shared, he nods his head in acceptance, but his words contradict the action.

  “I get it, Frankie. I get that you’re scared and why, but you could never be just one of Deac’s girls. You may not see it, but you are Deacon’s only girl, always have been.” With that, he spins and strides out the way he came.

  Well, fuck. He doesn’t get it. He says he does, but he can’t, and I don’t dare let myself believe what he said. It would be way too easy to just forgive Deacon for the thing with Veronica, but I cannot set myself up for that. Especially now. If anything happened to him, I would never forgive myself. If he gets hurt during one of his fights or drops out now because of me, again…I wouldn’t be able to deal with that. He’s worked too hard to get to where he is. I’ve worked too hard to help him reach this point and he’s too close to fuck it up. This hurts now, but losing him completely would be unbearable. I have to keep my heart safe from any further hurt, and I have to keep him out of harm’s way at the same time. I’m protecting us both. Even if he doesn’t see it that way. I know that although he isn’t in my face that he is fighting for us. Keeping his head down and biding his time and I know that no matter what I say he won’t stop fighting until he’s ready. He will eventually get over the pain of losing me. My recovery though is questionable at best.

  Fuck them if they think I’m going back to the gym when those two are there. Watching that fucker put his hands all over my girl is one thing, seeing him kiss her another thing entirely. They thought my ass was volatile before. Just wait! I have only ever felt this kind of all-consuming, simmering right below the surface, ready to spew out of every pore and annihilate everything and everyone around me rage one other time, and that was when Frankie was attacked. They can find another gym or we can keep on training at my place—I don’t care. All I know is that I am not going back there. I want so badly to say fuck it all and break Cristiano for even thinking that he can have my girl, but I have to play my shit straight. I won’t even allow myself to think about it being too late. I can’t. That just isn’t an option.

  Coming to a stop on the slushy mess of a jogging trail, I plant my hands on the top of my head and breathe deeply, the crisp air making my lungs burn. I have a month before the next fight, and once I win that I have four months to get ready for the championship. I’m on my way to Mav’s to meet with my brothers and Reggie. I know that they want to bang out a game plan after that shit fest that went down the other day. I’d ended up knocking out two sparring partners and dislocating another’s shoulder. Pop’s pissed and both Mav and Sonny are nervous. Fuck, even I’m a little nervous about how hot I’m running. I take off at a faster pace the last half mile to my brother’s brownstone, hoping to shake all of the negative shit swirling around in my head by abusing my body. Once on his stoop, I take the stairs two at a time, knocking quickly before I turn the knob.

  “Yo! Where you assholes at?”

  I hear Reggie boom from the landing that they’re in the media room. On my way past the kitchen, I snatch two coconut waters out of the fridge and go to see what the guys are getting into. Striding into the sitting area with its comfy, worn, black leather theater seats and recliners, I drop into the one nearest to me. As I sit, I raise my chin in greeting at the three men watching my every movement. Slowly, watching them watch me, I take my beanie from my head, finger comb the strands back into a rubber band, and crack open one of my bottles.

  “So what’s up? We staging my intervention or what?” I ask before I chug down the water.

  Laughing, Mav shakes his head.

  “You’re way past that shit, brother.” Shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, he smirks over at me.

  “No, Deac, we’re hammering out your training schedule and Reggie is here to go over a few things about who needs to be where and when,” Sonny says from his perch on the arm of a recliner.

  My gaze swinging in Reggie’s direction, I ask sharply, “Who’s with the Princess now if you’re here?”

  He just looks down his crooked nose at me, like I’ve just insulted him. “Calm down, my man. Trent and Bo are both with her. I’m not going to leave her alone, especially right now.”

  I sit up straighter, narrowing my eyes at him. “What do you mean especially now? Is there something going on? Has she heard from Drew?”

  I’m just about to get to my feet when Sonny pushes me back down, holding me in place. I hadn’t even realized that he’d made his way over to where I’m sitting.

  “He means with all of the extra media and attention the fight is stirring up. She’s fine, Deac. None of us is going to let anything happen to her.” Sonny gives my shoulder a squeeze. I relax back into my chair not nearly as appeased as they think they have me. Reggie doesn’t say shit just to say it, and that’s the second time now that he’s made a comment that makes me think there’s something more going on. My brother walks over to the island-sized footrest separating my section from Mav and Reggie’s. He sits, hunching forward, his elbows on his knees.


  “Speaking of Frankie, I have your training schedule all worked out and your gym times don’t overlap with any of the classes she doesn’t teach alone.”

  Smart man. He’s avoiding any mention of Flashdance because he doesn’t want to test my temper today. He’s learning. Probably doesn’t want to get hit again.

  “We’ll be doing the majority of your hours on the ground level. Pops has them setting up the temporary cage again right now. We’ll be all set for tomorrow’s session.” Pausing he looks at me sternly, wearing his coach mask now. “It’s the best I can do, Deacon. You’re just going to have to man up.”

  Glaring at him, I grit, “I know what the fuck I have to do. You just need to make sure he stays away from me. I’m all done holding back, you feel me?”

  Eyes focused intently on mine, trying to read me, he nods his head in agreement.

  “Fair enough, Deac. I’ll try my damnedest, but you gotta work with me, brother. We have to work that mad out of you somehow, some way.”

  Snorting, I just smirk at his attempt to compromise.

  “Yeah, well, I fuck and I fight so…” I shrug looking away and then bring my eyes back to his dark and assessing gaze.

  “One isn’t happening at the moment because my girl is off dancing with some fucking prick, so fighting it is. Just keep lining up the sparring partners, Sonny, and don’t get pissed when I lay their asses out.” I break the seal on the second water and take a swig, smirking at his resolute expression.

  Letting out a string of curses, Mav stands.

  “You, little brother, are the biggest fucking pain in the ass. Your acting out bullshit is a little more serious than simply being all ass hurt. You could injure someone, Deac—badly.”

  I say nothing, looking him right in the eyes. I don’t have to. He knows that right now, I don’t give a fuck.

  “All right then, I’ll have Carter print up extra release forms for the guys stupid enough to spar with you to sign.”