Fighting to Forget (Fighting, #3)

He motions for me to follow him. “Then come on.”


My stomach still in knots, I follow him back to his room, scanning the entire way looking for my backpack. There are a lot of closed doors in this place. Maybe one of the guys pulled it into his room?

Even back inside Hatch’s room, I pull open the drapes and click on the bathroom light, searching. It’s nowhere. Dammit!

“Here.” He holds a small square mirror up to my face.

“What is that?” I’m pretty sure I know, but he can’t possibly think offering me drugs is going to help my situation.

“Coke. It’ll kick that hangover. Help you think straight.” He pushes it closer.

“No thanks.” I scoot around him and continue my search.

“You’ve got a better option?” The sound of him sucking the powder into his nose fills the room.

Do I? The only way I’d ever touch that shit would be to put myself out of my misery, which I may need to do if I can’t find my backpack.

Terror pricks along my nerves. If it’s gone, stolen, I’m at the mercy of Hatch until . . . until when?

I watch him pour out another line and suck it back, the biker dick who hates Rex and hit me.

But saved me last night.

And he’s my only hope.





Twenty-two





Institutionalized for most of my life.

Not anymore.

They’re letting me out.

And after I make the person who threw me in here pay,

I’m going to find my brother.

--Mac, Age 20

Six months later . . .

Rex

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” I look over to find Emma squirming in the passenger seat, her hands knotted together.

Her bright eyes fix on me. “Yes. It’s fine. I’m just nervous. It’s a lot of pressure to meet all your fighting friends on our first date, ya know?”

Date. Right.

The last date I went on was with Gia back before my entire world was destroyed with the discovery of a damn stuffed animal. Coming back from that has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s taken months of intensive therapy three times a week to get to this point, and I still have so far to go. Fuck, it’s only been in the last few weeks that I’ve been able to stop referring to Gia as Mac.

I’m grateful for Emma. She’s been a good friend. I’ve had her inside my condo, even curled up with her on the couch to watch movies. She’s mellow, never demands more than I can give. I figured it was time I took her out on a real date. Thought it might help me move on. Forward.

So here I am. But I can’t help but feel blah.

I like Emma. She’s beautiful, sweet, and funny in her own way. I’m sure if I give it time I’ll grow to have the intense feelings I felt with Gia, before I found out she was Gia.

I blow out a long breath and try to relax.

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” Emma lifts one eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Jonah’s been staying home a lot, and I haven’t seen Raven and the baby since I visited them in the hospital.” After everything they went through when the baby was born, Jonah didn’t let anyone come near Raven or the baby for a long time. He was so close to losing them both; he’s added a new level of overprotection to his already nuclear-level possessiveness. “We don’t have to stay long. We’ll drop in, say hi, and then grab dinner.”

She nods and stares out the window, and I can’t help but think of Gia. Darren says I need to stop comparing the two girls and just appreciate Emma for the girl she is rather than who I wish she was.

I’m trying. But the truth is I miss Mac.

It didn’t happen overnight, but I realize now that her heart was in the right place. God, the things I accused her of: lying, stalking, and manipulating me to feel something for her so that she could destroy me.

Every night when I lie in bed, waiting for sleep to take me, I remember the feel of her soft body, the tropical smell of her skin that drove me fucking insane with lust, her hands tearing into my hair when we kissed, pulling against my lip ring with so much passion she could hardly control it. But she did. Her white-knuckled grip held her back to keep from touching me, biting down on those full lips to keep from talking—all because I asked her to—ignoring her own desires to accommodate mine.

I rub my cramping chest.

Where is she now?

I went to get my stuff from her place a few weeks after she left my condo. I knew she never showed up at The Blackout, but I’d hoped maybe she was still in town. Trix explained that she took off that night and left her phone behind with most of her things. There was a note for Trix saying she was sorry.

My bag was there, packed and waiting. It wasn’t until I got it home that I realized she left me and my memories behind too. The bear and my writings. I must’ve dug through every pocket in that bag a dozen times looking for a note. Parting words, something, anything. I found nothing.

Not that I blame her.

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