Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

He chuckles. “Get some sleep. We’ll figure out how to prove you’re innocent in the morning.”


I move through the parking lot to the stairs. Each step that brings me closer to my door creates a memory that attacks with vicious potency. Key in the lock, I squeeze my eyes closed and push past the vision of her there in her socks and shining smile. Hurrying inside, I hope to dash the echo of the past that threatens to drop me to my knees.

“Fuck, don’t be such a *.” I throw my shit on the floor in the foyer, and my gaze snags on the wall where I pressed her body before that first time we… made love. My throat swells, and for a minute, I can’t drag my eyes away.

Forcing myself to walk away, I head to the kitchen. I need to stay focused on my case. I’ve lost her, but I might be able to save my career. Pulling all the bottles and powders from the cupboards, I scan the labels. Memories of Layla in my kitchen doing the same thing push for dominance. I shove them back to the recesses of my thoughts and focus.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” There’s not a word on any of the labels that hints to a prescribing doctor.

What would be his motive for pumping me with steroids? Did Gibbs doubt my ability to win the fight and think juicing me would give me an advantage? I rub my face. That makes no sense. Gibbs benefits no matter who wins. Not to mention that the Gaming Commission tests all fighters before a fight, and I would have been caught then. That rules out Doc Z placing money on the fight, juicing me up so I’d win and he’d get a huge payout.

My head thumps with an oncoming headache. Jonah’s right. I haven’t slept. I need to think this through with a clear mind. I grab my phone charger from the kitchen drawer and head toward my spare bedroom. My eyes slam closed as I pass the music room, and my chest tightens with an unbearable cramp.

The guest room hasn’t been used in years. The stale smell of dust and abandonment fit perfectly with my mood. I plug in my phone and punch out a quick text to Brae telling him I’m out and headed for bed. I strip down naked, hit the lights, and crawl between the sheets. My head is foggy, exhaustion making it impossible to string together a coherent thought.

And even still, her memory floods my senses. The smell of her hair, the feel of it as it runs between my fingers. Her pleasured whimpers and moans when I’m inside her. The softness of her skin as my lips run along her cheek and down her neck.

Her neck.

My chest hollows out. Crippling emptiness crashes over me in waves. I close my eyes and beg for sleep. And pray that dreams won’t come.

Layla

It’s taken me three days. The decision didn’t come lightly, but after a lot of thought, I know it’s my only choice.

I finally had to let my phone die to keep from answering the calls from concerned friends. I knew if I took even one call, I’d be begging them to tell me about Blake. Just the thought of his name makes my eyes burn.

I need to get over that.

No more sitting in my apartment with Axelle, going over and over all of our options. In the end, we decided together that the best choice would also be the hardest.

But everything good comes with a price.

We don’t want to live in fear of what’s waiting around the corner. Or grow old and grow up with a list of regrets weighing us down. So we made our choice.

It’s time to see if he’ll take us back.

My hand trembles against the door handle as I push into the hospital room. Machines beep in sequence and seem to match the pace of my steps. Stewart’s head lolls toward me at the sound of my entrance.

“Hey.” I’m tentative, nervous about how he’ll react seeing me.

A lot was said the night he was brought here. There’s so much we need to talk about. I can only hope he’ll give me a chance to say what I need to say, and pray he doesn’t kick me out.

“What are you doing here?” His words are garbled through what looks like a few dozen stitches and a broken nose.

I make no move to get closer. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Said everything I had to say.” He turns his face away.

I swallow my nerves and move deeper into the room. “Then, do you mind if I talk?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I’m sorry about happened to you. I tried to get Blake to leave, but…” Sadness cuts through my words. Determination moves my feet toward his bed. “He’s in a lot of trouble. Steroids, his career is over, and he’ll be in jail for a while.”

Stewart’s head jerks back around. “As he should be.” His words are spit through swollen lips.

“Yes.” It’s all I can say with my heart in my throat.

“So you’re not in love with him?”

I’m pinned to the floor by the power of his glare.

“He seemed to think you two had something special.”

I shake my head. “I want to go home.” My stomach revolts, twisting in disappointment. “Back to Seattle with you and Elle.”

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