by Tracey Ward
I don’t know if he stayed with me the entire time. We didn’t speak. We barely made a sound as we moved together, writhing and gripping, kissing and licking, building slowly a burn that engulfed the night and burst brighter than the sun.
What I do know is that he held me afterward. That he stayed in my arms, resting his head against my breast as my heartbeat slowed, and he fell asleep with his hand in my hair and his body draped over mine.
I know I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life.
I know he felt the same.
***
The next morning was rough. Kellen was rough, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep, dark circles shadowing his eyes. He moved slowly, his body reluctant. He asked for caffeine before I reminded him he didn’t like to drink it before a bout. It made him jittery. It made the animal that much more anxious.
Barkley texted me when we were on our way to the gym for the fight. He said he was running late but he’d be there by the time the fight started. He asked how Kellen was doing and I carefully avoided the question because the honest answer was I didn’t know. Mentally or physically. No matter how you looked at him he didn’t seem ready for this fight.
When we got to the gym Kellen killed the engine and went to open his door but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
“Be real with me,” I told him. “Are you good?”
He sighed, leaning back against the seat. He gripped his keys hard in his right hand, the metal no doubt pushing into his skin. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s a bullshit answer.”
“It’s all I’ve got right now.”
“Is it because of your mom?”
He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Nah. It’s not even that.”
“Then what is it? What’s got you messed up in the head?”
“My dad. Barkley friggin’ Thorpe, that’s what.”
“What about him?”
“His name.”
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “Be serious.”
“I am,” he replied heartily. “That’s a super villain name if I’ve ever heard one and I had this idea of him built up in my head. This colossal asshole with no redeemable qualities but an exceptional mustache that he twirled as he stole candy from babies and looked up women’s skirts. I pictured him here in Vegas with a cheesy Hawaiian shirt on, greasy hair, and paying for whores off The Strip. And not the expensive kind. Not the escorts. The hookers.” He punched lightly at the steering column, keys still fisted in his hand. “Women like my grandma.”
I turned in my seat to face him, bringing my knee up and laying my leg on the seat. He looked over at me and immediately unclenched his hand to put his palm to my leg. His skin to mine.
“It’s a letdown,” he explained before I could say a word. “I came to see Lex Luthor and I found a tax attorney.”
I grinned. “I don’t know if he’s as mundane as that. I’m fairly certain I saw Rihanna give him her number. That’s pretty baller.”
“I’m worried my mom was a Laney.”
I blinked, stunned by the shift in topic and tone. “You think what?”
He glanced at me, probably to see if I was pissed, but I was pure confusion. “My mom. The decisions she made, they were emotional and petty. She gambled my life on a grudge. She kept me from my dad, a man who wanted to see me and to help me, all because she was pissed she didn’t get what she wanted.”
“I think that’s oversimplifying things a little.”
“I know,” he admitted tightly. “I know that, but there’s a lot of truth in there too. That’s the gist of it. My mom who I worshiped and adored doomed me over a broken heart. She wasn’t keeping me safe from some drug addict father who would risk my life every day. She kept me from a decent guy with good intentions and I hate that I can’t hate him anymore, because he was always the problem in my mind. He was the one who fucked up my life. Now I meet him and I don’t love him but I can’t hate him and what does that mean for my mom?”
I laid my hand on his gently. “You love her, Kellen. You love her because she did the best she could for you and yeah, she screwed up, but she had no idea that the horrible things you went through were going to happen. She wasn’t malicious. She wasn’t careless. She was young and hurt and dying, probably scared out of her mind. She probably didn’t want to admit to herself that she was leaving you.”
He took his hand back and rubbed his palms roughly over his face. “I don’t know anymore. I came here for answers and all I have is more questions and no one can answer them. I don’t know where I go from here.”
“I think you should call Ben. You haven’t been to see him in weeks. You need to check in with him. He’ll be thrilled you talked to your dad but you guys need to sit down together and unpack all this. I don’t know how, but he does and he wants to help, so let him.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Are you gonna be okay in this fight?”
“Ha,” he laughed shortly. “I don’t know. I’m tired. Maybe we should just keep driving. Go home. Take a nap.”
“If that’s what you want to do.”
“It’s not.”
“What do you want to do?”
He grinned at me sideways. “I want to win this fight, my last fight, and take you out to dinner.”
“Denny’s?” I smirked.
“It’s our place.”
I leaned over the seat and kissed him. “Sounds perfect.”
He grabbed the back of my head when I went to pull away and pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re perfect,” he breathed. “And don’t tell me I’m wrong or brush it off because I mean it. To me you’re perfect and I love you.”
I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. To keep myself from falling apart in the face of one of the rarities that was Kellen. He didn’t do emotional or tender, not very often, and lately I’d gotten a lot of it. So much that my heart was overworked, no longer beating frantically with excitement when he got this way but slowing to a steady rhythm that I could feel in the air around us. In sync, in harmony and accord.
Easy in a way we’d never known before.
An hour later we were inside the still new smelling gym, unchristened by the perpetual stink of feet and sweat that Tim’s Gym back in L.A. was so proud of. It made it feel sterile and I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach as Kellen approached the event coordinator. He disappeared into the back with his bag to change and get ready and I milled around aimlessly trying to unfurl the anxiety building in my stomach.
It didn’t help.
“Am I late?” Barkley asked, appearing out of nowhere.
I smiled gratefully when I saw him. It was nice not to be alone. “No, not even a little. He’s in the back getting ready.”
“Have you seen the competition?”
“No, not yet.”
“He’s a mountain.”
“You saw him?” I asked nervously.
Barkley nodded. “I came in behind him. Heard him talking to his coach. Is Kellen’s coach here?”
“No. Tim wasn’t feeling well. He doesn’t travel much. He’s an old guy.”
“Should I be nervous?”
I forced a smile, shaking my head. “No. He’ll be great.”
It was a lie I felt deep down into my toes.
The truth was Kellen’s head wasn’t right, not even close. Compounding the problem was the fact that he was tired. He had next to no sleep last night and he didn’t spend any time in this building. He wasn’t familiar with the noise level, the lighting, the feel of the ring. He liked to get to know a place before he fought there to get himself comfortable and he hadn’t done any of that here. Not to mention he had added the pressure of declaring this his last competition. If he lost, if he failed, and this was it for his entire career… I didn’t look forward to the next hour and if it didn’t go well I definitely wasn’t looking forward to the long drive home.
We probably wouldn’t be stopping for Denny’s.
&nb
sp; “There he is.” Barkley nudged me excitedly as Kellen and the other guy – not nearly as imposing a figure as I’d been picturing – stepped into the main area.
They were introduced, announced with overly aggressive backstories that were total lies as far as I could tell, and directed up into the ring.
Barkley took pictures with his phone, a proud grin on his face that made me smile faintly. It almost made me forget the gurgling in my stomach.
Almost.
They did the usual rundown – go over rules of conduct and sportsmanship, the ref got a chance to pontificate about the proud tradition of boxing and what a noble sport it was – before finally they guys bumped gloves in the center of the ring and moved to their corners. Barkley and I were waiting there in Kellen’s, sorry substitutes for Tim but we did what we could.
“Does he care if we talk to him?” Barkley whispered to me.
“Tell him to give him hell,” I muttered back.
“Give him hell, Kellen!”
He didn’t react but I assured Barkley he’d heard him. I didn’t say a word. I stood there with my hands on my hips the way Tim taught me, watching his opponent shrewdly. Looking for a weakness. Kellen would find it and exploit it before I’d ever see it but I looked just the same.
The bell dinged and both men jumped into action.
Barkley raised his cell phone next to me to record the match like a proud dad at a music recital. Part of me was glad he was doing it because even if he didn’t know it, this was the end of something significant. This was the curtain call, the lights being dimmed. This was a death in a dance in a ring.
Right out the gates Kellen faltered. Sometimes he did it draw his opponents out but if it was intentional, it backfired. He took a hit to the chin. Another to the ribs.
Boom! Boom! Just like that he was behind.
“Keep close to him!” Barkley cried. “Don’t get outside! Go back in!”
I glanced at him, surprised.
He felt my gaze, looking to me and back to the ring, doing a quick double take. “I live in Vegas, sweetheart. This is not my first boxing match.”
I grinned. “And here you were worried about him not having a coach.”
Kellen landed a monster hit to the guy’s right side, bringing in his left hook and taking advantage. He backed him against the ropes, made him cower down inside his arms to defend himself, and he pummeled at him hard with his left. He moved to take advantage, to bring in his right hand, and I jumped to the edge of the ring.
“Not yet! Save it! You got him! You fuckin’ got him, Kellen!”
He pulled the punch, feinting to the side and hitting with his left again and again. The guy finally danced out of his hold and tried to spin around him but Kellen was too fast. He was too sure footed, and he spun on his heel to meet the guy head on before he could get at him.
“Why is he saving his right hand?” Barkley asked quietly.
I put my hand in front of my mouth. “It’s busted,” I murmured. “Fractured in an accident. It’s a cannon but it hurts him. He needs to save it.”
“What kind of accident?”
“Car.” My eyes flickered to Barkley and back to Kellen. “He was in a coma. People thought he’d never wake up.”
He swore under his breath, his phone lowering. He paused it, turning to face me. “What did he mean before? About the abuse.”
“You have to ask him.”
“He’ll never tell me.”
“Then you’ll never know.”
It was a cold thing to say but it was the truth. It was Kellen’s truth. It was a trust and confidence I’d spent years earning and I wasn’t about to lose it now. Not when everything was finally going so well.
“Yes!” I screamed, my heart flying in my chest.
Kellen had the guy against the ropes again, back on defense, and he was landing blow after blow. He worked him with his right hand but he never went full force. It would hurt, I knew, but not like it could. Not like it would if he had to go all in with it.
He got the guy on the shoulder, the chest. He landed a left-handed blow to his stomach that doubled him over, nearly knocking the life out of him.
My phone vibrated angrily in my pocket.
I growled a curse as I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was my mom. It looked I’d missed three calls from her already.
“Yeah, mom!” I shouted over the noise in the gym. “Not a good time. I’m at—“
“Lane—in the—al.”
I plugged my free ear and hunched over my phone. “What?!”
“Laney’s in the hospital!” she screamed.
“Oh my God. What happened?!”
“She fainted. She collap—“
The building exploded in cheers and boos. I shook my head, pushing past the crowd and out into the open air.
“Mom, what did you say? What happened?”
She growled angrily. “I said she collapsed! She fainted dead away in the driveway. She hit her head hard on the asphalt and I rushed her to the hospital and I don’t know what’s happening! No one has answered me about what’s going on with her!”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s on his way. He’s bringing Max from the office.”
“Okay. Okay. Sit tight. Wait for them.”
“You have to come home.”
“I know. I’m in Vegas but I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
“Hurry.”
“I will.”
Mom hung up the phone. I stared at mine, blind as I tried to catch up with what I needed to do.
“Are you alright?”
I spun around to find myself face to face with Barkley. “I—I don’t know. My sister, she’s pregnant and she collapsed in my parent’s driveway. She hit her head and no one knows what’s going on and I need to get home but Kellen has this fight and he drove us here and… shit. I don’t know. Do I try to stop the fight and pull him out? I can’t do that. I can’t do that to him.”
Barkley stepped onto the busy street, expertly hailing a cab as it passed. He put his hand on my back and gently pushed me toward it. “You go to the airport. You book the first flight home and you fly out immediately. I’ll stay with Kellen and explain what happened when the match is over. He’ll drive his truck back tonight.”
He opened the door and ushered me inside, closing the door behind me.
“McCarren,” he told the driver briskly.
The car started pulling away from the curb before I realized what was happening.
I hurriedly rolled down my window to shout, “Tell him I’m sorry!”
Barkley nodded once, just the way Kellen always did, and turned to disappear back inside.
I got lucky at the airport. I was able to get a seat on a flight leaving only twenty minutes after I got there but I paced the entire time. I texted my dad to get an update on Laney but it went unanswered by the time I was in the air.
When I landed an hour later I had three new messages. It freaked me out that none were from Laney.
One was from Kellen telling me he was sorry he wasn’t with me, one from my mom panicking in near gibberish and demanding I get there immediately, and finally one from my dad telling me Laney was awake, coherent, but that I needed to meet them at the hospital as soon as I landed. He said he’d be waiting for me.
I could have called to ask him to clarify, to let me know if the situation was good or bad, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I knew my dad.
I didn’t because I’d had a bad feeling all day, a feeling that had ominously lifted.
When I got to the hospital and found my family, three hours had passed since Laney first went down. My dad pulled me aside in the hallway before letting me see Laney,
I was ready for the worst. Or at least I thought I was.
“What happened?” I whispered.
Dad’s face was pained but calm. “Her blood pressure bottomed out. She fainted. Took a bad hit to the head. She has a concussion but it’ll be fine. Her head is fine.
”
“Why’d her blood pressure drop?”
“They don’t know. But when they checked her belly listening for the baby’s heart they couldn’t find it.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed, my hand covering my mouth. “Did they do an ultrasound? Did they find it?”
“They did an ultrasound. It didn’t help. The baby—“ His breath caught in his throat. He coughed roughly. “The baby is gone, Jenna. Your sister’s baby is gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kellen
Silence is tricky. It’s nothing. It is literally the absence of a thing. The loss of sound and all that it signifies. It could be a blessing and it could be a curse.
The silence that stalked the Monroe family in the weeks after Laney’s miscarriage was a damnable thing. It echoed through the house, buffeted down the halls by tears and shuddering breaths that sprang to life in every room, every corner. It was a haunted place.
Laney took the miscarriage hard. I didn’t know any other way a woman could take it. She blamed herself, blamed her body and her blood. I heard her wailing on the other end of the phone the first night Jenna stayed at their parent’s house with her and it sounded like a wounded animal howling in the woods. It punched a hole in my heart that I couldn’t begin to heal. I knew I’d never forget that sound and it made it all the more awful knowing who it came from.
The girl who I always thought was incapable of caring for anyone but herself was a woman nearly screaming with grief for a life never lived. Eyes never opened. Lungs never filled. Empty hands and unformed feet. It gutted her, took her down to the bedrock of her soul and threatened to break out, break down, break her in two until there was nothing left. For two weeks she wasn’t allowed to be alone. Jenna, Karen, Dan, and Max took turns staying with her, trying to coax her into eating and drinking. Asking her to get up and go outside, but they rarely succeeded.
They got her into therapy that third week. The doctor had to come to her because she wouldn’t leave the house. Jenna said it was helping. She mumbled updates tiredly to me as she fell asleep, wiped out from the shop and her shifts on watch. I pulled the blanket up high over her thin shoulders, leaving the room silently to go do dishes or laundry, to take her car to get gas; doing everything I could to take care of her. To make it easier for her, but I never felt like I did enough.