Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

I took a single step back and to the side, trying to put space between us. “If you’ll excuse me, I was actually headed back to my friends.”

  He reached out, running the tip of his index finger down the side of my cheek. “You should ditch them and spend a little time with me.”

  Nausea turned my stomach. “I’m really not interested.”

  He inched forward. “No?”

  “No.” The word shot from my mouth.

  I was so absolutely not interested. But this guy didn’t seem to be able to take a hint.

  “I think you’re lying. I think you’re really interested and you just don’t want to look like a slut in front of your friends. Let’s get out of here. I won’t tell anyone.”

  What the fuck?

  This guy was ridiculous. I took it all back. Any appeal he had was obliterated by his foul, offensive character.

  I scoffed out a laugh. “And I think you’re a total prick who can’t seem to comprehend the fact I’d rather gouge my eye out with a fork than spend the night with you.”

  Anger flashed across his face, and he jolted forward, making me stumble back.

  So maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Inciting this jerk. It was a risk. Some guys needed someone to knock them over the head before they got it and there were some who never understood the meaning of no. Apparently, he was the latter.

  “Ah. Playing hard to get. I like it.”

  “I’m not playing, Tim.” This time, the words trembled with a tiny spurt of fear. “I mean it. Just . . . leave me alone.”

  He slipped forward another inch, backing me the rest of the way into the wall. “See? You even remembered my name. Stop playing coy.”

  “She said she wasn’t interested.” The voice that rumbled in the hallway was rough. Low and dangerous.

  My skin shivered for entirely different reasons.

  Tim swung around to look over his shoulder, still keeping his body angled so I was backed against the wall but allowing me to see farther down the hall.

  Rex was there. Fists clenched. Jaw rigid. Anger radiated from him in shocking waves. Those sage eyes glinted with hate as his lean, sinewy muscles twitched with restraint.

  I just didn’t know which of us he hated most.

  It didn’t matter.

  I sucked in a breath of relief, succumbing to a feeling of safety so staggering it weakened my knees.

  Tim clung to that sleazy cockiness. “Think you should turn around and mind your own fucking business.”

  “And I’d suggest you back the fuck away before you don’t have the chance to walk out of here.” It was nothing less than a growl.

  Aggression ricocheted between the two of them. Growing and spinning and spiking.

  Finally, Tim cracked a flippant, arrogant grin. Though, I could have sworn I saw his quake of fear. The realization that he didn’t have a fighting chance.

  Rex Gunner would beat him bloody.

  He stepped away from me. “Whatever, man. You want her, have her. She’s not worth the effort.”

  I sagged forward, dragging a bunch of cleansing breaths into my too-tight lungs.

  Rex glowered at him, never breaking his menacing stare when Tim angled his shoulders to the side to slip past him, his pace increasing the second he was on the other side of Rex’s raging hostility.

  He disappeared at the end of the hall, and I pushed my bangs back from my forehead, which was sweaty and slick with the adrenaline.

  “You okay?” Rex asked, voice still shaky and rough.

  I nodded. “Yeah . . . he was . . .” I trailed off, forcing myself to stand straight. “Rex. Thank you. I—”

  He cut me off with harsh, cold words. “You should go home before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

  Then he turned around and stalked away.

  I stood there, staring after him, wondering what in the hell had just happened. Finally, I shook myself out of it, feet prodding down the hall. At the end of it, I searched the crowded room until my gaze latched on to the back of the man as he wound through the throng toward the bar.

  For a beat, I contemplated, wondering if it was even worth it. Putting myself out there when he seemed to shut me down at every turn.

  It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion.

  I followed the same path, angling through the bodies that seemed to grow thicker with each moment that passed.

  I came to a stop behind him. He had gone straight for the bar, arms rested on top of it, gesturing with his chin to Ollie. Ollie only gestured back, as if they spoke some sort of secret language, a fresh beer gliding across the shiny dark mahogany and landing in Rex’s grip.

  He brought it to his lips and took a deep pull, that strong throat bobbing again. But there was a new kind of agitation that radiated from the movement.

  As if he were upset.

  I swallowed down my reservations and sidled up to him, wondering what had possessed me. What made it impossible to turn away from this man I barely even knew.

  That intrigue grew greater and greater with each glimpse that took me a little deeper.

  He exhaled heavily when he realized I was there, taking another sip without looking my way.

  “I said thank you,” I reiterated just loud enough to be heard over the din.

  He sighed, rubbed his fingertips over those plush lips, and barely cut an eye my direction.

  “You’re welcome.” It was gruff. Reluctant.

  “Am I?” I challenged.

  He coughed out a laugh with a quick shake of his head before he looked at me for a moment. Seriously. Genuinely. “Yeah, you are. Would have preferred to take the fucker out, honestly.”

  “Then why are you so pissed at me?”

  He sighed again, this time as he scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked straight ahead. “It’s just . . . let’s just say today’s not the best of days.”

  “What happened?”

  He flinched, and his trembling hand ran over his short beard. “Some things are better left unsaid, Rynna Dayne. Only thing dragging history out into the open does is remind you just how fucking bad it sucks that there’s not a damned thing in the world you can do to change it.”

  I studied him, trying to make sense of what he said, realizing it was a locked door I had no chance of getting through. Instead, I hiked myself up onto the stool.

  Ollie’s eyes went wide when he approached, his attention flicking between the two of us as if he were shocked Rex might actually be talking to me.

  “What can I get you?” Ollie asked.

  “A margarita would be nice.”

  Rex and I sat in silence for a few moments, saying nothing while Ollie mixed my drink and placed it in front of me. “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip before I chanced a peek at Rex.

  At his profile.

  At his nose and his lips and his jaw.

  Shivers rolled and those butterflies swarmed.

  “Your daughter is adorable.”

  A smile flickered on his lush mouth. “Yeah . . . she’s a handful.”

  His words were pure adoration, and for the first time, Rex dropped his shield.

  As if just the mention of her had the power to send it tumbling down.

  So maybe I melted a little.

  “I’d venture that kind of handful is the best kind.”

  His chuckle was slow. “Sometimes I wonder how I handle that little hurricane. Barely can keep up most days.” Even though it came out playful, there was an undercurrent of sadness. A suggestion of fear.

  I nodded before we both turned away, facing forward and sipping from our drinks. It was as if we both needed a breather, a moment to sort through whatever was happening between us.

  It felt like maybe in the silence, we were calling a truce.

  The band playing at the small stage behind us at the other end of the bar moved into another song. I’d barely been paying attention to them all night, the songs only a backdrop to the vibe, the band members just as trendy as the bar itself.

>   But this . . .

  This was a song I knew so well.

  They were singing a haunting cover of “Awake My Soul” by Mumford & Sons.

  Slower and quieter than the original.

  The lyrics were full of longing and heartache.

  Mournful and somehow hopeful.

  I sipped my drink, getting lost in the feel. In the comfort of the soft, scratchy voice of the singer, in the startling warmth that radiated from Rex.

  My grandmother’s face flitted through my eyes, her belief a whisper in my ear.

  My teeth caught on my bottom lip when I turned to find him watching me.

  Intently.

  Something fervent rose between us. Alive and potent. It sent my nerves spiraling free.

  He took a slow pull of his beer, his words measured. Careful. “I’m really sorry about your grandmother, Rynna. She was a really good woman.” Sadness flashed through his expression. “Don’t know of anything worse than losing someone you love.”

  Emotion thickened my throat, stunned by his sudden care and swimming in the stark loss. “I feel like I lost her a long time ago.”

  The admission was strangled, ripped from my chest as if I couldn’t keep it in for a second longer.

  That stunning gaze searched my face through the shadows. “Had it been a long time since you saw her?”

  There was no accusation behind it. Just honest curiosity.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d you stay away so long?”

  I choked out an uncertain laugh. “Because I wasn’t brave enough.”

  He frowned. “You seem awful brave to me.”

  My head shook. “No. I’m not brave. Or maybe I just wasn’t brave soon enough.”

  The lyrics lifted in the atmosphere, words about life and death and the impermanency of our bodies. I swore I saw Rex’s spine go rigid.

  I touched his arm, unable to stop myself. My skin lit up at the contact. He stared at it before he jerked away and pushed from the bar.

  Shocked, I spun around.

  His chest heaved and he looked . . . panicked.

  “Rex—”

  He roughed a hand over his face, cutting off whatever connection we’d shared. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Then he turned, stalked through the crowd, shoved open the door, and disappeared into the night.

  Leaving me sitting there staring at the vacancy he’d left behind, wondering exactly what I’d done wrong.

  8

  Rex

  I was agitated.

  Pissed and confused.

  A disorder trembling me to the bone.

  As hard as I tried, there was no corralling it. No shaking the bristling anger that had followed me through all of last night and into this morning.

  It was a blinding fury that had taken to my veins when I’d found her backed into a corner by that piece of shit.

  Hell. It’d been ignited the second I’d looked up from the table and saw him talking to her.

  I didn’t even know her, and she sure as hell wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of her leaving with him. Of her going back to his place or maybe him going to hers.

  The vision of him following her up her stairs had made me want to claw my eyes out. Two of them falling into her bed.

  It was no surprise he turned out to be a pussy-bitch pretty boy who had the misconception he had the right to reach out and take whatever he wanted whether someone wanted to give it or not.

  Would have relished in teaching him the lesson.

  Enlightening the fucker on what it meant to show a little respect.

  But that was the problem when someone affected you. The problem when someone got under your skin. When someone made you start entertaining all kinds of foolish ideas. Ideas of stepping up and getting involved in matters that were none of your concern.

  Treading a line you had no business walking.

  That fact had never been as striking as when she’d reached out and touched me at the bar. She was making me want things I couldn’t want.

  Things I had no fucking right to take.

  But it didn’t matter.

  They’d been there, and I knew I had to get the fuck away before I did something I couldn’t take back.

  Before I crossed a line I couldn’t cross.

  I had one priority.

  One focus.

  A single reason to keep on the straight and narrow.

  And that reason was currently hurtling down the walkway.

  Brown hair flying and spirit soaring. Grin wide. As bright as the sun that blazed as it climbed the sky behind her.

  The second I’d pulled my truck to the curb, she’d bolted out my mom’s front door, arms lifted over her head and that sweet voice riding the wind.

  “Daddy!”

  I hopped out of my truck and went straight for her, scooped her up, and tossed her into the air.

  Let her laughter rain down around me. A drenching reminder of what I was living for. I caught her, hugging her close while she tightened her chubby arms around my neck in a death grip. “Daddy! Guess what?”

  I pulled back a fraction so I could see her face. “What?”

  “Grammy gots me paints, and I painted a tree and a mountain and a squirrel, and now I’m gonna be an artist and take paintin’ lessons and be the best dancer in the whole world and Wonder Woman when I goes to the gym with you.”

  It was then that I spotted the thick smear of white paint across her cheek and the rainbow of splatters on her shirt.

  I glanced at my mother, who was grinning like the Cheshire where she leaned against the doorjamb with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Now you’re going to be an artist, too, huh?”

  “Uh-huh. Grammy said my picture was so, so pretty. You think I could sell it and get so much money and then I can buy a dog? Oh, Daddy, please, I wants a puppy so bad.”

  I chuckled under my breath because it was the only thing I could do.

  “I don’t think a puppy is a good idea right now, Frankie Leigh.”

  “Oh, but, Daddy!” She stuck out her bottom lip before she grinned. “You wants to see my picture?”

  I laughed. “Nothing I’d like better than to see that picture.”

  Wasn’t lying last night. The child was a handful. A whirlwind that spun from one idea to the next without giving me time to process the first.

  Sweet to the brim.

  Most likely because all those dreams and ideas were gushing out from the inside.

  I arched a brow at my mom as we approached. “So, we’re painting again?”

  Taking the single step up to the door, I dropped a kiss to Mom’s cheek.

  Her smile grew. “Oh, yes. We are definitely painting again. We had a blast, didn’t we, Frankie Leigh?”

  “So, so, SO much fun. Can I spend the night here every night?”

  I feigned offense. “And you’re going to leave your daddy all by his lonesome every night.”

  Frankie’s horror was real. “Oh, no, Daddy. You can spends the night here, too. Right, Grammy?”

  “Oh, Sweet Pea Frankie Leigh, I think your daddy might be too old for sleepovers. Unless he finally decides to start participating in the right kind. You know, of the adult variety.”

  The last she mumbled under her breath, and the woman had the nerve to shoot me a wink.

  Mom had just turned fifty-two and was about as pretty as they came. The years had been good to her, and her spirit was as free as Frankie’s.

  “Sly, Ma. Real sly.”

  She laughed. “Oh, everyone needs a little push in the right direction every now and again. Speaking of, how was last night?”

  I shrugged. “Uneventful.”

  That felt like a bold-faced lie.

  But the last thing I needed to do was mention Rynna moving in across the street. Mom would hop on that so fast that I’d never hear the end of it.

  I set Frankie back on her feet, scooting her in the direction of her room. “Go get
your stuff, Sweet Pea.”

  She took off down the hall, and I straightened and looked at my mom. Obviously, she was dying for any juicy details she could get.

  “Met Ollie and Kale for a couple of drinks then called it a night,” I told her.

  A long, restless night.

  A pucker formed on Mom’s lips. “You’re no fun. Here I am, nice enough to have your daughter over for the entire night, and you don’t even do me the service of having a wild night on the town. You know I’ll be having one tonight.”

  Amusement shook my head. “You really are a terrible influence. I think I’m going to have to rethink these sleepovers.”

  She pressed a hand over her heart. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Don’t test me.” It was purely a tease.

  Everything about her softened. “How are my boys?”

  A smile ticked up at the corner of my mouth. “Good. Kale has the weekend off, so I’m sure he’s off making up for any fun I’m not having. Ollie is . . . it was twelve years yesterday.”

  A soft puff of air blew from her mouth. “Oh . . . I didn’t even realize. How is he doing?”

  “As well as can be expected, I guess.”

  Or maybe worse than could be expected. I didn’t fucking know.

  God knew that it still ate me alive.

  A beat of silence hovered in the atmosphere, that same sadness that was always there, lurking in the background, before Frankie broke it. She came bursting back into the living room with her backpack bouncing on her shoulders, a poster board in one hand and her doll clutched to her chest with the other.

  “Look it, Daddy.”

  Proudly, Frankie lifted her painting that was nothing but thick swashes of color.

  “That’s beautiful, Sweet Pea.”

  “What are we gonna do today?” she dove right in. “You wants to go swimming?”

  I swung her into my arms. “Is that what you want to do? Go to the lake?”

  She grinned that grin. The one that knocked all the foolishness free and the sense back into me. My heart heavy and full.

  Devoted.

  “Yes!”

  I ruffled a hand through her rebellious hair. “Then, it sounds like we’re going to the lake.”

  * * *

  My headlights cut through the emerging night.