Xavier Cold (Hard Knocks #2)

I fold my arms over my chest. “Redecorating.”

“I can see that, but did it really require starting a fire in the middle of the street?”

I shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He shakes his head. “I have to call this in, so we can get it cleaned up. You should take off.”

I nod. “Thanks, man.”

“What are friends for?” he answers simply.

“I owe you one.”

He slaps the hat back on his head, and his face lights up with a half-smile. “If that’s the case, can I collect tomorrow?”

I suspiciously eye him. “Depends. What is it?”

“I’ve got this kid I’ve been working with, and I really think he has something special, X. He’s just rough around the edges. Reminds me a lot of you actually.”

“So, you want me to come down and check him out? Show him a couple of moves?”

Cole nods. “I know it would mean a lot to him. The kid’s had it rough and never caught a break. Hearing from you that he has some talent and can actually make it in professional wrestling might be the thing that will keep him off the streets and out of Bishop’s crew.”

I raise my eyebrow. “If he runs with Bishop, I don’t want any part of the kid.”

Cole frowns. “That’s the thing, X. He’s not with them, but they are trying their damnedest to recruit him. He’s built, and he has a lot of rage—the perfect weapon for Bishop.”

When Cole says that to me, he might as well have been describing me all those years ago when I found refuge with Bishop. If I can do some small thing to keep this kid out of living the same hell the Block put me through, it’ll be worth my time.

“I’m in,” I tell him. “Have him at Tough’s at noon.”

Cole smiles. “Will do. Thanks, X.”

I turn to walk into the house to grab the keys to my bike. There’s no way I can sleep inside this fucking house after all this. I stuff my cell, containing voice mails I have yet to listen to from Anna, into my pocket, and I set out for the one place that really feels like home—Nettie and Carl’s diner. Hopefully, I can figure out what the fuck is going on with my life.





Chapter 22


Xavier


The sound of boxes crashing to the floor jerks me out of a deep sleep. I gasp and sit up ramrod straight in the twin bed I found sanctuary in last night after letting myself into the diner with my key.

“Sorry, sugar,” Nettie says as she stacks the boxes back onto the stockroom shelf. “We needed more ketchup out front.”

I stretch and then rub the heels of my hands against my closed eyelids. “What time is it?”

“Close to noon,” Nettie informs me as she comes over to sit next to me on the bed. There’s concern in her eyes. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. Rough night in the house, is all. It’s hard being there, alone.”

She pats my shoulder. “Anna will be back before long.”

I sigh and then pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not sure she’ll be back.”

Her brow furrows. “Why would you say that? That girl loves you.”

“And that’s the problem. She shouldn’t love me.”

“You deserve love, Xavier. You have to learn to open up and let her in. She’ll stand by you, no matter what, if she really loves you.”

“What if she doesn’t?” That’s the thing that scares me the most. I fear the possibility that she might leave me.

Nettie frowns. “You’ll never know unless you open yourself up and find out.” She pats my leg. “Want me to have Carl make you some breakfast?”

“A quick sandwich to go would be great. I have to head over to the gym to work with a kid Cole thinks might have a real shot in professional wrestling.”

She pushes up from the bed. “That’s great. It’ll take your mind off things a bit.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I tell her. But I know getting Anna off my mind won’t be easy.

“I’ll get that sandwich going.” Nettie pauses at the door and turns to me. “Make sure you take a shower at Tough’s. I can still smell the Jack on you.” She winks at me before she disappears.

I down the sausage-and-egg sandwich in about four bites and head out the door to my bike. I ride down the street to the house on Sycamore and am surprised to see only scorched concrete where the couch burned last night.

I park my bike, take a deep breath, and then dash inside to change into workout gear. I do my best not to allow the house to get to me, but when I rush past the door upstairs to get to the bathroom, I eye the lock on Grandmother’s door.

God, that woman really hated me and did anything to keep me at a distance.

After brushing my teeth and slapping on some deodorant, I rush back out the door and head toward the gym.

I hate being late.

My bike roars as it comes to a halt in front of Tough’s Gym, and then I sprint up the stairs.

When I open the door, the sound of jump ropes slapping against the wooden floor is the first thing I hear. The gym is packed today, but after a quick glance around, I spot Cole talking to a man about my height. He has sandy-blond spiked hair, and he’s covered from the neck down in tattoos.