by D. M. Davis
I turn, gripping the railing. “Why, Gabriel?”
He shakes his head. He clearly has something to say, but he’s holding back.
Realization dawns. My heart sinks. My will to fight flees. “Sex.” It’s only one word, but it’s the only word needing to be said. “You only want me here for sex.”
Of course he only wants me for sex. He said he wanted me from the first time he saw me over five years ago. Five fucking years, he’s wanted to fuck me. And here I am, living under his roof, in his bed, at his beck and call. He wanted to fuck me at the gym, in front of the guys, to show he could—that I was his, for the taking. Whenever. Wherever. However.
I’m a fool.
I believed we could be more.
I could be more.
It turns out, I’m nothing.
When a guy shows he’s an asshole—you should believe him.
Gabriel’s asshole flag is flying high.
“Congratulations, Gabriel. You’ve managed to join the ranks of my father and Austin.” I top the stairs and stop, not looking back, but I feel his eyes burning holes into my back. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”
Asshole in full force. Check.
I nearly swallow my tongue to keep from calling after her. What have I done? I made her feel like a piece of ass. I wanted to fuck her, true. But that’s not all I want from her. I want her here. Under my roof, in my bed, under my body as I pound into her all night long. So, sue me if I’m attracted to her. If I can’t get enough of her body, her face, her mouth.
But is that all I want?
I grab the whiskey off the counter on my way to the back deck. Maybe she had the right idea. Drown my sorrows and deal with it in the morning. She’s not listening to anything I have to say tonight.
But you didn’t say anything.
Fuck! I’m so out of my league here. What do I know about being a boyfriend, a husband, a father? Isn’t that want she wants? Isn’t that what she was asking me? Can I give her more than my body and a safe place to live?
My Angel is destined for heaven, and I’m destined for hell.
That’s what life would be like without her—hell. I’ve never been in a relationship. The only women in my life are my mom and sister. I won’t lie to her. I can’t promise what I don’t have to give. I’m fucked up. My dad saw to that. I always knew Frankie was too good for me, but I thought she could be happy with what I have to offer. She was happy, until she wasn’t. Her tears were bad enough. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her more. If I took and took without giving her what she deserves. A forever after, and I’m clean out.
I look for answers in the bottom of the whiskey bottle. By the time I finish it, I don’t even know what the question was.
The phone buzzing in my pocket pulls me from sleep. Laid out on the deck lounger, my mouth tastes like death. My head pounds like there’s a jack hammer trying to break through, and my stomach threatens to make me relive it all.
“Yeah.” I spew the sawdust from my mouth.
“What the fuck did you do?” Jonah’s bark has more bite than mine. Impressive—and unusual.
“Specify,” I groan and roll to my side, managing to sit up without puking.
“Cap says Frankie is red-eyed and not talking. But by the looks of it, she spent the night at the gym and was waiting outside for him at the ass-crack of dawn. That specific enough for you, Mr. No Mercy?”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, you managed to fuck up the best thing you’ve had going.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Her shit is packed into her office. She moved out on your ass. Fix it. Fix it now.” Though cell phones don’t click, I swear I can hear the anger of his hang-up ringing in my ear all damn day.
After brushing my hand across my face, I stumble inside and upstairs, confirming my Angel did, in fact, move all her shit out. There’s not a speck of her left in the guest room, my room, closet, or bathroom. It’s like she was never here. She never existed in my space. She never shared the same air I’m having trouble breathing now.
A snap of her fingers, and poof, she’s gone.
The tightening in my chest takes me to the bed. I’ve fucked up.
Asshole in full force. Check.
I’m not sure if my head’s pounding from all the crying or the beer and two shots of liquor I had last night, but either way, I’m paying for it today, dearly. Cap’s been nice enough to leave me be, only talking about business. He’s a man of few words. I greatly appreciate that trait today.
I had to ask him to pull over a few miles back. My stomach churned as much as it could before insisting on a mass exodus. Finding my head in a toilet, again, at the nearest rest stop, proves me and alcohol don’t mix. I’ve never been a huge fan. Another gift from my father.
When I exit the restroom, Cap hands me a new toothbrush and travel-sized toothpaste. “You okay?” He pulls me in for a hug. Cap’s a good man. He’s younger than my father, but he’s been more a father to me than any man’s bothered to be. He’s gruff and rough around the edges, but his green eyes hold the knowledge of the world, and they have a soft spot for me. Plus, not many men would pull a woman reeking of puke into their arms.
“Too much to drink.” I leave out the broken heart part I think is contributing to my current state more than last night’s alcohol. I think it was whiskey. It could have been Drano for all I know, but I’m sure it wasn’t. You can’t swallow Drano and survive, right?
“We’re ahead of schedule. I got to the gym early, thinking I’d work a couple of hours before you sauntered in around nine or so. Go brush your teeth. We’ll stop for some breakfast and let you rest a while.” He turns me toward the bathroom door, patting me on my way. “See you in the car.”
A few minutes later, I slip in the car, feeling a little better, and thank Cap for the toothbrush and toothpaste he bought from the vending machine. Who knew they had that kind of stuff in vending machines nowadays? It’s a smart idea. Wish I’d thought of it.
“Gabriel called,” he mentions casually as he pulls onto the highway. When I don’t respond, he continues, “He said your phone must be off as it’s going straight to voicemail.”
It is off.
“He wanted to be sure you were okay since you weren’t answering. He asked that you call him.”
“Mmm.” My eyes remain on the road, but I let him know I heard him. I’m not open to discussing Gabriel with Cap. The last thing he’d want to know is Gabriel only wants me for my holes. Cap may be a bit of a manwhore, but as far as he’s concerned, I don’t have sex.
As for Gabriel, it’ll be a big fat day in hell before I’ll be calling him. Let him stew in his sex juices, since that’s all he cares to share with me.
We’ve got a few more hours before we reach our first prospect. I pull out the folder Cap gave me yesterday and study the fighters we’ll be checking out over the next three days. Usually the guys come to us, but a few times a year, Cap will hit the road to woo the ones who haven’t made it to us yet. The ones who caught his eye, who haven’t made it big, and probably are underdogs. He tends to like the broken souls. He says they have more fire and more to lose once they get a taste for the life they could have—once they see the kind of family they could be a part of. Cap takes good care of his fighters, really anyone he deems worthy of his attention, his family.
I was lucky enough to get on his radar. He made sure I knew it wasn’t because of Austin. He gave me a chance because he saw the same fire in me. I think he saw a broken soul that needed a place to belong. He was right. He made me feel welcome and integral to the team’s success. Besides Austin, I’d never felt anyone cared if I lived or died, or if I even existed in the first place.
Because of Cap, I know I’ll be okay no matter how many Austins or Gabriels dump me for greener pastures. Cap would never let me dwell in this world alone, and whether I stay or move on, he’ll always welcome me back with open arms.
That’s Captain Jimmy Durant f
or you. I reach over and slip my hand in his. I may never find a man who will fall in love with me, but I know this man loves me as a daughter, and maybe that’ll be enough.
He’s quick to give it a squeeze. “It’ll be okay, Frankie. He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, it’s his fucking loss.” He squeezes and shakes my hand. “And it’ll still be fucking okay. You will be okay.”
I nod my assent. The hole in my chest feels the furthest it can be from okay, but I can’t dwell on it now. We’ve got work to do. Fighters to impress. And air to breathe that’s not tainted by the man who stole my heart and trampled on it like it was just another hole to be fucked.
I stand in Frankie’s office. The belongings she didn’t take with her on the scouting trip with Cap are stuffed in a corner behind her desk—in fucking trash bags. I rub at the ache in my chest. What the fuck has she done to me? The sight of her stuff sitting here like discarded trash has rage bubbling to the surface. I did that. I didn’t leave her better than I found her. I left her worse off.
We moved her and Austin out of their apartment a few weeks ago. I was shocked to see how little stuff she had, how few clothes she possessed. I always thought she and Austin were doing good. I believed they had enough to do more than just survive. I was wrong. I know Frankie makes a good living. Cap pays her well. But you’d never know it by the contents of their closet or the scarceness of their furniture. The living room looked normal with two couches and a kitchen table with four chairs. It was a one-bedroom apartment. There’s not much space. But it was the bedroom that only had a bed in it. I didn’t notice the day I went to collect her things a few days after Austin hurt her. The vision of its starkness is burned into my brain. No suitcases, only a single duffle bag I’d used that day to grab essentials she needed. Everything they had went in a handful of boxes. It turned out the place came furnished with the couches and dining table, and what was in the kitchen wasn’t theirs either. Not even a coffee cup belonged to them—to her.
Now, as I look at her trash bags of belongings, guilt eats at the lining of my stomach. I told her I was playing for keeps. I didn’t know what that meant. I still don’t. I’m not husband material. And fatherhood? Who the fuck would want me as a father? How I feel about my Angel can’t be labeled. It’s not tied to some pretty picture of a husband and wife with two point five children. I never saw much beyond today.
I said for keeps. I may not know what that is. But it sure as fuck doesn’t end with her crap stuffed in trash bags and discarded like yesterday’s garbage.
She may not be returning my calls, but her stuff is returning to my home. She’ll have to see me eventually. I’ll make her see reason then. Make her see we don’t need labels. We don’t need visions for the future that go beyond having her in my life, in my house, and in my bed.
It’s enough.
It has to be.
I’m not capable of more.
The sunshine is pissing me off. We’ve been going nonstop, and my mood calls for dreary skies and thunderstorms, but all we’ve gotten are beautiful days, mild temps, and a coastline calling to me to run away with a carefree surfer and forget about these MMA boys.
“Darlin’, you’re far too pretty to be out here scowling at the sun.” Rowdy, a fighter on Cap’s list closes the door behind him, coming to stand by me as I hold up the wall, needing a break from the testosterone inside Max’s Gym. “What’d it do to you?”
“What’d what do to me?”
“The sun.”
“It dared to be bright when I’m feeling dark.” I shield my eyes from the sun as I look up at his tall, well-sculpted form. I’m regretting leaving my sunglasses in the car.
He chuckles, releasing his sandy-brown hair from the man bun he’s rocking quite successfully. “If it’s darkness you seek, I know the perfect place.” His dimpled grin has me smiling while he squints down at me. The sun is too bright for his light blue eyes too.
“Are you trouble, Rowdy?”
Pushing off the wall, he comes to stand before me, blocking the sun, one hand resting against the wall beside me. “No, ma’am. I’m far less trouble than the one who’s tainted your ability to enjoy a beautiful California day.”
“Ma’am?” I can’t be older than his Texas ass.
He tips his invisible hat. “It’s out of respect, Frankie. My momma would have my hide if I gave you less.”
I believe him. He’s not full of piss and vinegar like most of the fighters I’ve run across. But he’s got a dark streak I can spot a mile away. So does Cap, or he wouldn’t be on our list. I mean, his nickname is Rowdy… “Give it to me in feet. This dark place of yours. How far we talking?”
“Frankie.” He leans in. “I’d rather give it to you in inches.” His eyes bore into mine. “But I sense that’s not attention you’d welcome.” He steps back. “And since I’m tryin’ to make a good impression, I’ll give you this…" He rubs his chin, narrowing his eyes down the road. “I’d say about fifty feet, give or take a mile or two.”
He’s funny. I’ll give him that. He’s got good ole boy mixed with devilish charm down to a science. And though he’s virtually a stranger, he doesn’t feel like one. His touch should bother me, but it doesn’t. There something about him that seems familiar—safe. Right now, I could use all the familiar and safe I can find. “Lead the way, Darkboy. Show me what you got.”
Rubbing his hands together, he motions to the left with his head. “A woman who lives on the edge. I like that.” He swings his arm around my shoulder, I don’t stop him as I text Cap to let him know I’ll meet him later for dinner.
I’m on a mission to forget Gabriel, at least for the next fifty feet, give or take a mile… Or two.
“She fucking what?!” I couldn’t have heard him right.
“She’s out with one of the prospective fighters. He seems nice enough. I’m sure she’s fine,” Cap rambles, entirely too laidback.
“I know what you’re doing, old man. Even if she is out with a guy—which I doubt—you wouldn’t let her step two feet away from you without believing she’s one hundred percent safe.”
“I’ll let her know you called. Though, I’m sure you’ve left her a message or two.”
Try twenty. She’s a stubborn one.
I end the call with Cap and storm into the training room. “I need to get fucked up. Who’s in?”
My girl’s out having fun. I might not be having fun, but I’m sure as fuck not going home to an empty house. A stark reminder of what the rest of my life will be like if I can’t convince my girl I’m enough. Just me. Nothing more. Nothing else.
Rowdy is full of surprises. I thought he might be taking me to a dive bar or worse. Thankfully I was wrong. He brought me to an aquarium. It’s small and locally run. There are no whales or dolphins here. But there’s a wall in the back. It’s dark, secluded, and glows from the light coming from the wall-to-wall jellyfish tank. I can’t take my eyes off the hundreds, maybe thousands of jellyfish as they swim, bob, and glow, tentacles gliding behind them in a smoke-like trails. They sway in a silent dance to the current and rotate like colored lights in their very own personal disco.
“It’s amazing,” I murmur, moving in to study one particularly weird-shaped one.
“He’s wrong-side-out,” Darkboy offers.
“What?” I glance at Rowdy before looking back to inspect it closer.
He points to the one in question. “He was born wrong-side-out. But somehow, he survived.”
I reach out as if I can touch it. “I can relate. I’ve always felt a little wrong-side-out myself,” I say to the jellyfish, not him.
“You look perfectly right-side-out to me.”
I look over and find him already watching me. “You always so charming?”
He shrugs. “I try to be, but no. Not always.”
“Good. We’ll get along better if you’re not always roses and sunshine.”
“You want to get along with me?” He seems genuinely surprised.
I turn,
giving him my full attention. “I think I do.”
That earns me a dimpled grin.
I shake my head and hold up my hand. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t need your inches. I’ve had enough of men and their inches.” I turn back to the tank. “But I could use a friend.”
“You need a man who knows how to give it to you slow and easy-like.” The husk in his voice tells me he’s serious. It’s not a line to get in my pants.
I slant an eye toward him. “I had one of those. He did. Often. The problem is, I fell for more than his inches. But that’s all he was willing to offer.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“No arguments there.” I swivel and motion forward. “What else you got for me?”
Tucking my hand in the crook of his arm, he leads me down a row of smaller tanks full of brightly colored frogs. “We can feed the manta rays.”
My smile nearly breaks my face. “We’re gonna get along fine, Darkboy.” He’s a kindred spirit, comfortable dwelling in the darkness, but not afraid of the light. Plus, he brought me to an aquarium. I mean, that’s the bomb. My father, Austin, Gabriel never did anything like this. It seems simple, small, but it’s exactly what I needed to avoid the light all around me when all I feel is dark. This place is a reminder—the world is bigger than me and my troubles—and amazing, if only you open your eyes to see. Even in the darkness there is beauty.
I throw back the rest of my whiskey and revel in the burn.
“You’re up.” Jonah passes over the cue.
We’re playing Jess and Walker, who suck at pool. I don’t know why they insist on teaming up. They might learn a thing or two or have a shot at winning if they’d pick other partners.
“Cap and Frankie coming back tomorrow?” Sloan tosses out right as I take my shot.
I give it a little too much power, causing me to miss. Jess and Walker woot, patting Sloan on the back with a, “Thanks, man.”
Sloan shrugs. “Sorry, Gabriel.”