She just lifts her chin and says, “He doesn’t scare me.”
If I could move, I’d fucking beat her ass. The second I can walk, she better be able to out run me.
With one last howl, Damian lunges for her and in a fatal mistake, doesn’t take heed of my injured leg stretched out in front of him. He trips and goes down, Sofie either doesn’t have time or makes the conscious decision not to move. Either way, he lands, stomach first, on the blade, gravity driving it deep into his stomach with a sickening spray of blood.
Sofie releases her hold on the knife as momentum takes Damian down. He does one twisted spin in the air, then lands, probably already halfway dead, in the center of the ring. She’s by my side before he even hits the ground.
She lifts my head, gingerly, and places it in her lap. Smoothing away my hair, she digs in my pants pockets to find my cell phone. As she speaks with the operator, she strips off her shirt and holds it against the blood still seeping from my wound.
“Just fucking get here,” she snaps, before tossing the phone on the ground.
“Got something…tell you,” I say.
“Shhh,” she says. “Just rest. They’re on their way.”
“Gonna sell…gym. Too dan-rous. Joinin’ ‘Rines.”
Her brows furrow. “You think reenlisting in the Marines is safer than owning a gym?”
“Never got stabbed in…’Rines.”
She shakes her head. “Shut up. We’ll talk about this when you aren’t bleeding all over me.”
“Love you,” I say.
“Stupid man,” she says, then kisses my forehead. “I love you, too.”
Six Weeks Later
I DIDN’T NEED the extra work, the promotion I’d gotten after a mere month at my new job more than covered our expenses, plus the benefits were generous, but I took it anyway to keep my hands and mind busy. Anything to quiet my mind and ease my fears.
Besides, I like the work, but most of all, I like that it allows me to work at home. I still go in to the office from time to time to talk to Anita and turn in reports, but aside from that I spend the time while Donnie and Rafe are in school in the spare room I converted to a home office.
It’s funny that I never considered myself the mothering type, but one of my favorite parts of the day now is being home when they get home from school or practice. We’ve gotten into the habit of sitting at the kitchen island with a snack and a soda, talking about their day.
I soak up each minute, listening to their stories and doling out advice. Even more surprising than my interest, is their willingness to listen. Each day isn’t perfect, but I enjoy the bad ones just as much as the good. They won’t always be here to have these moments—it’s only a few short years before they graduate and move out to go to college after all. I try to make the most out of our time together when I can, to make up for all I’ve missed.
So when I come downstairs around four o’clock and find the ground floor empty and the kitchen devoid of two rambunctious teens, I frown. I glance at the clock over the table again to confirm the time and then my phone to see if there are any texts waiting from them. Finding my phone depressingly empty and silent, I tap out a text to Rafe to check in and then go to the kitchen to make a plate of their favorite microwaveable junk food. My mother would frown at the frozen pizza snacks, but I think she’d appreciate the sentiment nevertheless.
When the door opens and footsteps follow, my shoulders dip in relief. I look up and promptly drop the pizza snacks in a pile on the baking sheet.
“Oh, my favorite,” Jack says as he strides into the kitchen. “Save me some before the brats come in, okay?”
He pauses on his way through to kiss my cheek and I turn it up obediently, then he clips a leash to Rosie’s collar to walk her in the backyard. I watch them through the back window as I rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher for a load later.
Even though I know his doctor and recruiting officer gave their stamp of approval on the completion of his physical therapy, I still dissect his gait for any sign of a limp. They’ve told me time and again he’s healed. I know there isn’t one, but I still think I see it sometimes if I’m looking out of the corner of my eye or if I’m watching him from far away. A figment of my fears realized, I’m sure, but it spawns the guilt souring my stomach just the same.
I turn away from his smiling face in the window to pull the food from the oven and place it on the counter to cool. Rosie announces their entrance with a series of high pitched yips and then careens through the kitchen and into the hallway. Jack follows close behind, hanging the leash on the hook by the backdoor. He snags a still hot pizza snack and tosses it in his mouth, hissing when the food burns his tongue.
“I don’t care what anyone says, this is the best food on Earth.” He chases the first with a swig of water and then downs a second.
“Have you seen the boys?” I ask as I wipe down the counters.
“Mmhmm,” he mumbles around another bite.