The door flies open. Jonah and Raven come rushing in. “What the hell’s going on in here? We came up to use the bathroom and heard you from the front door.” Jonah’s eyebrows are set low and concerned.
“Layla’s carrying my baby.” I pounce from the bed and onto my woman, smothering her with my arms and lips. Kissing her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, chin, and repeating until she dissolves into a fit of giggles. “I love you, I fucking love you so fucking much it makes me sick.”
“Sick? That’s not good.” She’s still giggling.
“I love you. You know that. I love you, all three of you. This is us now. We’re a family. I know we’re doing all this backwards, but fuck what anyone says. You and Axelle are my girls. And, I’d be so damn stoked if you’d let me make this shit official.” Even with our close friends as witnesses, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room, hell, in the world. “Mouse, baby. Marry me.”
Her brown eyes go wide, and her lips tremble. She’s not saying anything, but her head is shaking no. Not the answer I was hoping for. Her single sob slashes through the silence.
I look at Jonah for help, but he just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning.
“Layla? Sweetheart, if you—”
“Ugh!” She bolts off the bed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
This is unexpected.
She stomps her foot. “I’m sick of getting married because I’m pregnant.” Her shoulders bounce with the force of her cry. “Seriously, what is wrong with me?”
“Ha, get used to that shit, dude.” Jonah points toward Raven, who’s also a sobbing mess.
“Mouse, nothing’s wrong with you.” I hold her in my arms and kiss her head. “Take your time, but know this… sooner or later, you’re taking my last name.”
She sniffs into my shirt, and her breathing calms. Her head tilts up, and she meets my eyes with a raised brow and a sassy grin. “I thought I told you, Snake. I don’t take orders.”
“Yeah, you told me. But I thought I told you, I’m a man who’s used to getting what he wants. I won’t give up until I have you… all of you. Forever. I won’t settle for less.”
She relaxes into my arms. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
The End
Layla’s story is fiction, but marital rape is not.
Studies done by Pandora’s Project, a support group for survivors of rape and sexual abuse, conclude that one in seven women will be sexually assaulted by her husband or boyfriend.
Research shows that marital rape can be more emotionally and physically traumatic than rape by a stranger.
If you or someone you know needs help, call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-Hope. Or go online to RAINN.org.
Everyone needs someone fighting in their corner. You’re not alone.
A Note to my Readers
I hope you enjoyed Fighting to Forgive. Please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon.
The next book in the series will be Fighting to Forget.
Every fighter is drawn to the violence, the release that a perfect hit can bring.
But very few are drawn to the pain.
Rex Carter lives behind a wall of indifference. The demons from his childhood act as an anesthetic, keeping him distant from emotional connections. Only the ache from a knock to the jaw, sting of a tattoo needle, or heat from a piercing, can jolt him back from the numbness. The fiery pain is all he can feel, and nothing compares to the burn.
Or so he thought.
Working in a Las Vegas bar isn’t Georgia Maxwell’s dream. But she hopes it’ll be an end to the nightmare.
For over a decade, she’s watched him. Followed his career and kept tabs, all in preparation for this moment. To make amends, repair the wrong. But she didn’t count on the feelings that seeing him again would stir up. The vacant look in his stormy-blue eyes, his perfect body now mutilated by ink and metal.
And only she knows why. She’s lived his pain, every single day, since the day he left.
Changed by time, Rex doesn’t remember the girl from his past. If only she could do the same.
Will she get the absolution she’s spent her life seeking?
Or will he continue fighting to forget?
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I’d like to thank God, the giver of all things.
Thank you to my husband for his love and support. You’re my real life hero. I love you.
To my daughters, my biggest cheerleaders, who never fail to remind me how sweet life is. You girls are my heart.
To my family, for their belief in me. Always fighting in my corner and giving me the strength to never give up.
Thank you to my friend, Evelyn Johnson. You’ve stood by me from day one and have never let me down. I swear I’d lose my own head if it weren’t for you. You’re the best assistant a girl could ask for. I cherish you.
I’m forever grateful to Warren Anderson at Rehab Plus for answering all of my questions about athletic training and steroid abuse.
To Dave Hodgeson of the Simi Valley Police Department for helping me with my law enforcement questions.