I shrug. “What?”
She turns to me slowly, her face soft… “That was perfect. I mean… thank you.”
“Not a big deal, Mouse. Just speaking the truth. She’s a smart girl. No use in candy-coating.” I lean against the wall. “Gotta say though, I’m barely restraining myself from going to the coffee shop and teaching those little shits a lesson. You fuck with my girls, you fuck with me. And that—oomph!”
She barrels into my chest, and I have to catch my breath.
Her arms wrap me up. “I…”
“You what, sweetheart?” There’s no way to know, but something about her trailing off sounded like she was about to say I love you.
“I… am in the mood for ice cream.”
I sag against the wall, my body heavy under her words. Is it possible that I want her to love me? Even if I can’t say the same? I do like her, a lot, to the point that being away from her for even the smallest fraction of time is physically painful.
But love? No. No way.
Love is something that grows over time. Not a fleeting feeling to be thrown around casually and tossed aside when it no longer suits.
A quick burst of adrenaline spikes in my blood. What have I done? I’ve been flying on the high of hot sex and mushy feelings. I haven’t stopped long enough to think this through. Now I’ve got a sixteen-year-old girl depending on me to shield her because I’m having more than simple feelings for her mom. The room gets small and closes in. What if things don’t work out? I mean, it’s bound to end sooner or later, unless we get married.
Me? Married?
That was never part of the plan. All my daddy issues combined with the fact that I’m a dick does not a husband make. Or a stepfather.
Yeah, it’s decided. She can’t love me. Love equals expectations. Expectations lead to disappointment. And disappointment is the death of marriage.
It’s good that she doesn’t love me.
Fucking splendid.
Why in the hell do I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach?
Twenty-four
Blake
It’s been one week since I tore shit up with Jonah and Rex, and I’m still crawling in my skin. Nothing’s helping. My music no longer makes a fucking dent in my hostility. I feel great when I’m with Layla, but one mention of her past and—fuck.
I’d been convinced that it’s genetic, but if that were the case, it would’ve started earlier than a few weeks ago. I wrote it off to my protective side kicking in, since having Layla in my life has brought out a possessiveness that I didn’t know I had. But that doesn’t explain the paranoia and the rage that constantly lurks just beneath the surface.
It’s time to get some help.
I drag ass to Doc Z’s office as my last resort. Opening up and exposing a weakness is a rule one no-no in my book. But I’m out of options and looking for answers.
Knocking twice, I crack the door. “Hey, Doc. You have a minute?”
“Oh, sure.” In a quick move, he shoves paperwork into the top drawer of his desk. “What’s up?”
I step inside the small room, and the smell of antiseptic and Ace bandages fills my nose. Closing the door behind me to avoid being overheard, I sit where Doc motions for me to take a seat. “Is it your back? Do you need another round of cortisone?”
“Nah, it’s all right. But I may need another dose before the fight.”
“That’s two weeks away. You might want to get a jumpstart on the pain so you don’t compromise your training.”
“Sure, uh… yeah.” Whatever. That’s not why I’m here. Spit it out, Daniels. “I wanted to talk to you about the supplements I’m on.”
He sits up taller and then leans onto his desk. “Okay, what is it—” His forearm hits a stapler, sending it crashing to the ground. He leans over to grab it, and then puts it back on his desk. Is his hand shaking?
I narrow my eyes at him. He seems off. Fidgety. “You okay?”
“Of course.” He flashes a weak smile. “Go on.”
My fingers drum against my thigh. “It’s my temper. I don’t know how to explain it, other than it’s been more intense than usual.”
Doc Z nods empathetically like a good little therapist.
“I was thinking about it the other day, and… it seems like it might be the supplements.” Layla’s advice about being leery of what I put into my body rings in my ears. “I guess what I’m asking is, do any of the herbal supplements I’m on have side effects? Um… that would affect my temper?”
Damn, I feel like a *.
“Of course. Absolutely.” Doc Z leans back in his chair.
My eyes dart to his. “Really?”
“Sure. Many of them will increase your natural testosterone, which will make you a bit moody.”
Understatement of the fucking year.
“Anything that’s intended to heal muscle rapidly may also affect your natural hormones. Just like a woman with PMS, a fighter on supplements may have some mood swings. It’s all normal.”