***
My birthday didn’t feel like my birthday. The last two had been nice, shopping with Lizzy and going out to dinner with Reece. But this year’s? Not so much. It was a lot like being back with Mom and pasting a smile on my face for Lizzy’s sake. Making a cake and then getting sick after eating half of it because it was what you did.
I’d been back at work for three days now. The “intervention” had stuck. I hadn’t indulged in anymore crazy cleaning marathons. To be fair, the apartment couldn’t get any more hygienic if I tried. I hadn’t heard from Mal again and I didn’t expect I would. End of story.
My stripy jersey dress was definitely the go-to look for dinner with Reece. It made me happy. Heartbreak could be covered over by a million and one things including cake and happy stripy dresses.
Fucking rock stars with their fucking ridiculous marital demands and their fucking incredible smell, face, body, voice, sense of humor, mind, generous spirit, and all the rest (Not necessarily in that order.).
Fuck them all. But especially fuck Mal.
Reece was fifteen minutes late. I tapped my knee-high brown boots on the scuffed wooden floor, beating out a hectic rhythm. No need to mention whom I might have picked up the habit from. Maybe waiting outside was a better idea, out in the cold wind. I trudged down the stairs and out the door while firing off a text message to Reece making sure he hadn’t broken down or anything.
He hadn’t.
I knew this because he was rolling around on the small patch of front lawn with someone. Not in ecstasy so much as agony. Lots of agony, if the groans and grunts were any indication. A battered bouquet of roses lay tossed aside. What the hell?
“Reece?”
No response.
I blinked, double-checking my vision. Was that really … “Mal?”
Yes, Mal and Reece were fighting on the front lawn. Blood wept from a cut on Mal’s brow and on Reece’s lip. A dark mark covered Mal’s cheek and Reece’s shirt was ripped open. They wrestled on, throwing punches and making animalistic-sounding noises.
“Motherfucking little …” Mal’s drove his fist hard into Reece’s stomach.
Reece grunted and countered by attempting to kick him in the groin. He caught Mal’s thigh instead. Given the way Mal’s face twisted, it obviously stung.
“You’re the asswipe that left her,” sneered Reece.
They came clashing together again, fists and blood flying. Bile stung the back of my throat and I swallowed it back down. Shit, shit, shit. What to do? I fished out my cell phone, dialed Lauren’s number.
“Hi, Anne.”
“Are you guys here? I need Nate out front now, please. Hurry.”
“What’s going on?”
“Mal and Reece are trying to kill each other.”
There was swearing and muttering. “On our way back. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
I hung up. Five minutes. They could hurt each other worse in five minutes and do some real damage if they hadn’t already. I couldn’t wait five minutes. I needed to do something now.
I cupped my hands over my mouth, standing on the front step. “Hey! What the fuck do you two idiots think you’re doing?”
Reece looked my way and Mal clocked him on the chin. Beyond enraged, they fell on each other again.
Well, that didn’t work.
Then Reece swung hard, catching Mal in the face, knocking him back a step. Mal stood, stunned for a moment. And no damn way could I stand there and watch him get hurt any more. It just wasn’t in me. Reece pulled back his arm, his bloody lips drawn, baring his teeth.
“Reece, no!” I didn’t stop and think. Instead, I made like a fool and rushed in, hell-bent on defending my man.
Mal turned. “Anne.”
I ran straight for him. Reece’s fist hit me in the eye and I dropped. Pain filled my world, blanking my mind. Fuck, did it hurt.
“Are you okay?” asked Mal.
“Ah …” was about the best I could do.
“Anne, oh fucking hell, I’m so sorry,” Reece babbled.
“Easy,” said Mal. My head was carefully lifted and placed upon a firm jeans-clad thigh.
“Hey. Hi,” I said, somewhat dazed and confused. I covered my battered eye with both hands, breathing through the exquisite agony.
“Pumpkin, what the fuck were you thinking, running in like that?”
“I was saving you. Or something. You know …”
They had stopped fighting. It was sort of a success.
Excited whimpering came from the box beside me. A little head popped up, then disappeared. What the hell? To the whole scene basically, I couldn’t restrict the question to any one thing happening tonight on the front lawn. The grass was cool and damp beneath me. I lay on my back, staring up at the night sky. My brain pounded. Mal stared down at me, his eyes tight with concern, his face a bloody mess.
“How you feeling?” he asked.
“Ouch.”
“Anne, I’m so damn sorry,” said Reece, looking about as contrite and torn up about it as possible. “Are you alright?”
“I’ll live.” Mostly. “Advil and ice would probably be good.”
“Yep, let’s get you upstairs.” Mal carefully brushed the hair back from my face.
Panting this time came from the box, along with a high-pitched yelp.
“It’s alright, Killer. Mommy’s okay.” Mal put a hand in the box and lifted out a wriggly little body covered in black-and-white fur. A fancy, studded collar sat around his neck, topped off by a big red bow. The bow was bigger than the dog. “Mommy was trying to save Daddy from evil Uncle Reecey, wasn’t she? A nice thing to do, but Daddy is still going to spank Mommy for being so silly and jumping into a fight. Yes he is, because Daddy’s the best.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” mumbled Reece.
“Happy birthday; I got you a puppy.” Mal held the puppy near my face and a wet, pink tongue darted out, licking my chin. He had the darkest, sweetest little eyes. “I named him Killer.”
“Wow.” God, he was cute–the man and the dog both. “Mal, you can’t call something that small Killer.”
“He earned it. Killed one of my Chucks right after I picked him up this afternoon. Chewed a hole right through it.”
The puppy licked me again, nearly getting me on the lips this time.
“Gross, little dude.” I smiled. “I know what you do with that tongue.”
Mal smiled, then handed the puppy to Reece. “Here, carry him up. Don’t drop him.”
“I won’t drop him.”
“You better not.”