And even if she had, he’d surely killed that love by walking out.
He was done with this conversation. Slapping his hands on his knees, he stood. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Don’t we need to train?”
“You going to stop being such a dickhead?” Tommy growled. “If you don’t want to go after your woman, that’s your deal, but the rest of us ain’t putting up with your bullshit. You need to get any aggression out, you do it inside the ropes. Don’t pick fights with your friends.”
“I hear you.” He worked his neck.
“Since you’re so berserked out, how about a sparring match with Maurice?”
Yeah, that sounded good. Maybe then he could go home and sleep. His damn annoying headache was probably more from lack of sleep and stress than Tommy’s actual punch. Not saying the guy didn’t have power behind his fist, but as a heavyweight, Mac had taken some herculean blows much stronger than Tommy’s.
Ten minutes later, he was circling Maurice in the boxing ring. The other fighter had his fists up, a calculating look letting Mac know he was searching for the best move, too. Maurice made a movement, and Mac went immediately for a straight jab. Maurice dodged and came around with a powerful left hook, landing it square on Mac’s jaw. His head whipped hard to the side.
And blackness engulfed him before he hit the canvas.
The strong gusts of wind continuously pushed against Gayle as she peered through the camera lens and took another photo of the breathtaking mothership supercell hovering above a golden field of wheat. The storm that came out of that one was going to be a humdinger.
She dropped the camera, letting it hang around her neck, and sighed. Unless something popped up between now and Monday, three days from now, this would most likely be her last chase of the season. The thought was depressing, but the TV news station she worked for was ready for her to claim the helm as chief meteorologist. With tornado season winding down, she really had no excuse not to.
Because “I need the distraction chasing gives me” wasn’t a practical reason—though it was the truth.
After the doctor had released her from the hospital, she’d spent one week at home recovering from the muscle soreness that had mocked all muscle soreness, and it had been hell. Being trapped in her house had done nothing but allow the damned man to consume her thoughts. As soon as she could move without wincing, she’d apologized to Lance for leaving him in a bind with Skylar, but she had to get away for a while. He hadn’t even blinked, just told her to do what she needed to do.
Over the last four weeks, she’d checked in with him. The last update hadn’t gone well. Lance had lost the fight he’d been training so hard for. He tried to sound like his usually energetic, positive self, but she’d heard the disappointment and worry behind his false cheer.
She understood that struggle. At least she didn’t need to pretend to be happy. She’d just thrown herself into every possible storm she could—even the ones she knew would be a bust. If she got nothing more than a few pictures or video, she didn’t care. She was distracted.
She missed Rick, could’ve really used the familiarity of their good-natured banter, but with his broken arm, driving was impossible. Another team had selflessly lent her one of their crew. Nick was a good kid in his early twenties, eager, with a passion for meteorology. His continuous barrage of questions had been a distraction in itself.
Not that she hadn’t thought of Mac anyway. At night she had, and she resented it, especially as the weeks passed, and he’d never made any attempt to contact her. She’d come close to calling him a few times, to make sure her accident hadn’t caused him to regress, but ended up not having the strength to dial. One of her biggest fears was that he was fine. The fear made her a loathsome person, but it was hard to forget he’d left her in the hospital and hadn’t looked back.
The motivation seemed obvious to her. Her prediction that night on her porch steps had come true. She was Mac’s wrecking ball. When he’d returned to Atlanta and the horror of her accident had worn off, he must have realized the feelings he’d had for her were simply gratitude. That was why he hadn’t reached out to her. Simple.
The possibility—probability—had driven her insane, had made bitterness churn in her gut, had made her wish she’d never met Mac…which made her feel even more of a horrible person. No matter how their relationship had ended, the man had needed her to come into his life and change it. After five weeks of soul-searching she was confident that, given the choice, she would help Mac heal all over again—but just do a much better job of protecting her heart.
Being heartbroken sucked.
She was pulled from her depressing thoughts as a wall cloud descended from the mothership. Time to roll.