Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  He stood and gathered my hand, leading me back the way we’d come. Out through the riot of voices that shouted where they played and drank, down the stairs, and through the murky haze.

  Confidently, he guided me through the crowds, which again broke for him, by the band that continued to play, the singer’s sultry voice a soft encouragement against my ear.

  Someday.

  Someday I’ll find what was meant for me.

  That day you’ll find me, too.

  Just don’t let it be too far away.

  “Someday.” I let the silent promise move across my lips as I snuggled into Kale’s side.

  He led me out onto the same sidewalk where I’d parted from him a week before. When I’d thought I’d never see him again.

  My chest wanted to cave with that idea now.

  With the cruelty of that distinct possibility.

  But I had to protect what was important, and standing out there with him was a recklessness in itself.

  He lifted his hand in the air, hailing a cab approaching from down the street.

  It pulled to the curb. Kale opened the door for me.

  Cavalier in his perfect, arrogant way.

  “Thank you,” I told him, my heart in my throat and tears suddenly burning behind my eyes.

  Damn it.

  This was the kind of complication I didn’t need. The new kind of trouble this boy had ignited in me.

  I climbed in.

  Grinning, he slid in beside me.

  “What are you doing?” The words were panicked.

  “Getting you home. You really think I’m going to send you off by yourself in the middle of the night?” Mischief danced across his face, his brow arching high. “What kind of knight would I be then?”

  I fiddled with the hem of my dress. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “It is,” he said. This time his tone left no room for argument.

  Resigned, I gave the driver my address, and Kale held my hand while the car drove through the city. Night pressed down through the bottled silence, broken by the streetlamps that flashed through the windows and the loud thrum of my heart.

  This was so stupid.

  Giving in this way.

  Because my gut had warned me that one night would never be enough.

  And if Dane was waiting for me again?

  Anger and a shot of fear churned in my gut because I was so tired of playing by his rules.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Not at all.

  The cab made the last left into the quiet, sleeping neighborhood. Big, dense trees stood guard over the small homes, their windows cast in darkness and wrapped in the comfort of the night.

  The driver cut across the road, pulling up alongside the curb in front of my house.

  I looked over at Kale, and I knew I shouldn’t, that I was only prolonging the inevitable. Making it hurt a little worse.

  It didn’t matter.

  I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his full lips.

  So gentle beneath mine. As if they might be able to promise all the things I wanted most.

  A second later, I pulled back. “Thank you,” I murmured, my fingers regretfully fiddling with the top button of his shirt.

  When I started to slide toward the door, he snatched me by the wrist. “Let me come in.”

  I sent him a small, sad smile, ran my thumb along the defined curve of his cheek. “I had an amazing time tonight. The best time. Thank you for rescuing me for a little while. I won’t ever forget it.”

  For a moment, he stared across at me before he gave a tight nod of reluctant acceptance, his smile slight, his voice wistful regret. “Good night, Shortcake.”

  I would have giggled if everything didn’t suddenly hurt so much.

  Clicking the door open, I let myself into the vacant loneliness of the waiting night.

  10

  Kale

  “Fess up, asshole.” Ollie flicked the bottle cap he twisted from a beer at me where I was sitting out on the balcony of my loft.

  I dodged it, not surprised to see him waltzing into my place like he owned it after I’d ignored the two calls he’d made this afternoon and the ten texts that’d come in after.

  Dude was worse than a stage-five clinger.

  “Fuck off, man.”

  His eyes widened in mock horror. “Such a foul mouth for a kiddie doctor. Shame. And here I thought you’d be classier than that. You sound like some kind of lowlife loser.”

  I rolled my eyes and took a sip of the beer I’d been nursing for the last two hours. “Gonna blame that one on the fact I hang out with you. They say you are the company you keep.”

  He dropped down into the lounger beside me, kicking out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He let out a satisfied sigh.

  My brow lifted. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

  He smirked. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “Ruining my life?”

  “Oh, come on, dude. You know you were just begging me to make a surprise visit when you ignored my calls, especially considering you showed up at my bar last night after you’d had dinner with the same chick who’d shot you down the week before. Far as I’m concerned, you were shooting SOS flares in the air. Man down. I came running.”

  He sat up on the side of the lounger, elbows resting on his knees with his beer dangling between them. “So let’s hear it, because I’m pretty sure either my best friend has caught some kind of horrible disease or that heart of his is finally thawing out. Which is it?”

  I exhaled heavily, eyes trained on the view that was basically exactly the same as the one from Olive’s balcony. Lights stretched out across the city, the river winding behind the buildings just on the other side of the street, carefree voices lifting from the sidewalk below.

  My place was just a half block down from Ollie’s bar. It was located in another reclaimed warehouse that Rex’s company, RG Construction, had been hired to bring back to life. I’d been looking for a permanent place to call home at the time, and he’d told me he was working on a project that might interest me.

  Even though it’d been nothing but bare bones and rotted wood when I’d viewed it, I’d bought it on the spot.

  Pretty much for the view alone since the unit was located on the fifth floor.

  Though, I had to admit that my pad turned out to be better than I could have imagined. A cohesive flow of rustic and modern, antique and industrial.

  Rex and his crew were skilled, that was for sure.

  Too bad the only thing missing from the view tonight was a redhead propped on a table. Like one of those hypnotizing sirens playing you for help when you were the one who was gonna end up dead.

  I roughed a hand over my face, trying to clear the vision, to purge her from my mind.

  “So,” he prodded.

  “So, what?”

  “So, why are you moping around like some kind of pathetic pussy when you had that gorgeous girl hanging on your arm last night? Even you have to admit, she’s way out of your league.”

  I drove my fingers through my hair. “Guess maybe she is.”

  “She send you packing?”

  “Something like that.”

  I knew I’d pushed her too far and too fast last night. Touching her, thinking it was the only chance I was going to get. But it’d felt impossible not to after what she’d confessed. It hadn’t even been all that much, but I could see the betrayal and hurt written all over her.

  The fear.

  Without a doubt, the piece of shit was the reason she didn’t think she had anything to offer.

  All I’d wanted was to make her feel more.

  Treat her like the queen she deserved to be.

  Ollie sobered, rocking back when he finally caught the magnitude of my mood. “Whoa . . . you actually really like this girl.”

  I sighed out some of the frustration that’d been nagging me all day. “I don’t fucking know. There’s just . . . something about her I can’t shake.
She owns this little coffee shop and bakery right down the street from the new office. Stumbled in there last Monday morning, and I couldn’t stay away. And you know I sure as hell don’t have the time or space for a girl, but I was asking her out before I could stop myself.”

  “So, last night was, like, a for real date?” He said it like the idea was a mystery dangling somewhere in the universe.

  I rubbed my forehead before raking my hand to the back of my head. “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to see her again?”

  “Nah, man.”

  One night.

  It was the only thing either of us could afford.

  “And why not? Because your mopey ass does not seem to be happy about it. Which doesn’t fit you, by the way.”

  “You know why.” I angled my face away from him a fraction when I said it.

  Normally, I was the guy who looked to the bright side. The one who found the good buried in the rubble. But there would always be this one part of me where the sun had gone missing.

  That place that had gone dark and dim.

  That place I didn’t have the capacity to revisit.

  I could feel the weight of his frown. “That was ten years ago, Kale, and you know it doesn’t have a thing to do with that girl. You’ve got to quit blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. Quit thinking you can’t move on.”

  My laughter was hard. “Not my fault?”

  It didn’t matter that everyone around me had told me it wasn’t my fault. That I’d done everything I could. My heart had convicted me on the spot that I was the only one who should shoulder the blame.

  “You made a mistake, man.”

  A mistake?

  “And someone died,” I spat.

  The girl I loved fucking died because of that mistake.

  Because I’d missed it.

  Because I’d been too wrapped up.

  Busy.

  My guts clenched in pain. In the kind of regret that would never fade.

  It was right at the second Ollie flinched with my statement. A lightning bolt that ravaged his body.

  “Shit,” I muttered in apology, knowing where his mind had gone with the callus way I’d thrown it out there. Our situations were different, but in the end, we both were culpable for the same damned thing.

  He’d sent his sixteen-year-old sister home from the lake in the middle of the night. Telling her she didn’t belong.

  She hadn’t made it home that night.

  That was the kind of guilt that could eat a man alive. Make him hard and callus and coarse.

  Ollie lifted his head to the night sky. “We are a fucking pair, aren’t we?”

  A low chuckle filtered free. “Yeah. Guess we are.”

  He dropped his head back down to look at me, eyeing me seriously. “Don’t let the past keep you from today, man. I know you loved her, and I know a piece of you died with her. But what about the rest of you that’s still living? You’re the coolest fucking guy I know. You love with all you have. You give every part of yourself to your career and still manage to give more to the rest of us after there shouldn’t be anything left. You deserve to live, Kale. Really live.”

  That was the problem. It was those dead, dark places that didn’t know how to move on. If I even wanted to.

  Hope’s face flashed behind my eyes, and I wasn’t quite sure where the fresh bolt of regret was coming from.

  The lump that rose in my throat was nothing but cragged, pitted rocks. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. Hope’s got her own shit.”

  Standing, he drained his beer and then pointed at me with the same hand wrapped around the empty bottle. “Then pull her out of it.” He smirked. “And why don’t you pull yourself out of yours while you’re at it.”

  * * *

  It was Monday morning, and I sat at the red light, drumming my thumbs on my steering wheel as if it might keep me busy enough not to notice where I was.

  Like I could drive right by and pretend the little coffee shop wasn’t tucked under the quaint, three-story building or keep the colorful umbrellas that were shading the small tables out front from singing out in welcome, begging me to stop in.

  Hell, the little A-frame chalkboard sign literally read: It’s a beautiful day. We’re about to make it better. Come on in.

  Motherfucking sunshine.

  I accelerated through the intersection, a war going on inside me, knowing she was fighting one of her own. I tried to convince myself to let it go. To just man the fuck up and get to the office because God knew I had plenty to do.

  Leave all this nonsense behind.

  Because all Hope had given me was one night.

  I kept my attention facing forward as I passed, the logo calling out to me where it was printed on the large plate glass window.

  A Drop of Hope.

  “Fuck it.” I whipped my car into an available spot and jumped out into the warm Alabama morning, probably a little quicker than necessary.

  Like I said, pathetic.

  My insides were nothing but a jumble of nerves, but I pasted on a smile and roughed an easy hand through my hair as I jerked open the door, figuring what the hell.

  Some things were just worth a second try.

  The bell jingled overhead, and movement rustled in the back. The door swung open, and Jenna rushed out while drying her hands on a dishtowel.

  A little too eagerly, my gaze jumped around the small space, across the tables littered with people enjoying their morning coffee and a muffin rather than taking it on the go.

  “You lookin’ for someone?” The question was delivered with an undercurrent of laughter.

  I jerked my attention back to Jenna, who stood there grinning.

  Like she didn’t know exactly why I was there. It was written all over me. “Just wanted to grab a cup of coffee before work.”

  It wasn’t like I was going to admit it, either.

  “Is that so?”

  “It is the best coffee in town. It says so right there.” I pointed at the little plaque proudly affixed to the wall.

  She grinned. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” She turned away and grabbed a large paper cup, talking as she did. “If I remember right, since you seem to just keep stumbling in for our award-winning brew, you prefer a regular ol’ cup of Joe. Nothing fancy.” She shot me a look from over her shoulder. “I mean, unlike your clothes and your car and that face.”

  My chuckle was two-parts unease and one-part amusement. “Hey, I was born with this face.”

  She turned back around, head angled in scrutiny as she slid the coffee across the counter in my direction. “Really. Here I was thinking it might have been cosmetically enhanced.”

  “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Well, probably depends on who you’re talking to.”

  I laughed again, this time lighter. “Which would you be?”

  She leaned against the counter. “Depends.”

  I pulled a ten from my wallet and passed it to her. “On what?”

  “On what you’re really doing here.”

  I pushed out a breath, eyes darting around, searching for that fall of red. “Is she around?” I asked. Clearly, Jenna already had my intentions pegged.

  “No, she has an appointment this morning.”

  Disappointment.

  It was there in the way the anxious tension in my shoulders slumped in some kind of defeat.

  That should have been warning enough.

  “I love her like a sister, you know? So you probably should be aware I’ll happily cut your dick off if you hurt her.”

  Apparently, I really was fluent in silent conversations. I’d gotten that one spot on.

  “She’s the one who said she could only give me one night.”

  “Did she?” Jenna handed me the change, looking at me like I was dense. “Or was that her asking you to be careful with her because she’s terrified of getting herself mixed up in another situation t
hat isn’t healthy? But you need to know that when she tells you her life is complicated, she isn’t exaggerating or feeling sorry for herself. It’s because her life is really that damned complicated.”

  I pushed out a sigh. “Last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

  A puff of air shot from her nose. “That’s what they all say in the beginning, isn’t it? It’d be nice for a guy to actually prove it for once.” She headed for the back, sending a flippant wave over her shoulder. “See ya around, Sir Bryant.”

  Laughter burst from my chest, and I pressed my fist over my mouth, shaking my head as I tried to keep it contained.

  But with the thought of Hope talking about me to her friend?

  It made hope come bubbling up inside.

  Because maybe Ollie was right.

  Maybe it was time for me to move on. And maybe Hope needed help moving on, too.

  * * *

  White lights glared from above. Blinding. The emergency room stark and barren and cold.

  Arms aching.

  Compression after compression after compression.

  Desperation bursting in my blood.

  Sweat ran down my brow and soaked the back of my shirt.

  And I tried and I tried and I tried.

  A flat line . . .

  I sucked in a breath against the phantom hum of the machine.

  That fucking flat line.

  I gave a harsh shake of my head to clear the pictures from my mind and forced myself to focus on the chart I was studying on my laptop.

  Telling myself not to freak the fuck out. This wasn’t the past trying to test me.

  Taunt me and tease me.

  This was shit that just happened.

  Uncontrolled.

  While doctors did their best to control it.

  I’d come to accept it was cases like this that got me most, but that didn’t mean it didn’t shake me to my bones.

  My eyes moved over the screen.

  An eight-year-old boy who’d been born with a genetic defect that had required a heart transplant when he was an infant. That genetic defect had also affected other organs and caused complete deafness.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t constantly dealt with life-threatening issues in the ER.