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But the second I got into that ring, her entire body went stiff, her jaw clenched hard enough for her teeth to hurt, her eyes guarded, but worried.
I didn't like seeing her looking that way.
For me, it was that easy.
She didn't like it, I didn't want to subject her to it.
I was over the fighting anyway. I preferred the gig as a guard. And Ross was always in need of one he could trust.
"She know you're quitting because of her?"
Ross wasn't exactly a small-talk kind of guy. But we had known each other long enough to occasionally indulge in it.
"Nope."
"She gonna be happy?"
"Pissed, probably."
Which was why I didn't tell her it was my intention to do it. I wanted to tell her after the fact.
See, while we were settling in, while she was comfortable enough to let her guard down around me, to talk to me more about the uglier parts of her childhood, the moments of helpless anger while caring for her mother, the lows she hit while using, she still didn't feel safe enough with me.
Safe enough to rock the boat.
She was constantly afraid that if she did, she might fall- or be tossed- overboard.
So she never fought. Even when I knew she wasn't happy about something, she bit her lip and went along with it. With some things, like the meetings, I was glad she wasn't making a big deal about it because I knew she needed them. But for other things, the just between the two of us, normal things? I wanted her to feel secure enough to fucking pitch a fit if she wanted to- to rant and rave and bitch at me until my goddamn balls shrank.
Because that was a sign that we were good, we were on solid ground- being able to fight without it bothering our foundations.
We were nowhere near that point because she steadfastly refused to fight.
But I had a feeling this was going to be the final straw- me doing something because of her and her feelings. Because she had some misguided notion that I would resent her for me making the choice.
Which was ridiculous.
I planned to tell her that much.
And hopefully it ended up with her screaming and pacing and throwing shit.
After that, it would end in rough, wild, ear-drum shatteringly good make-up sex.Bethany"I didn't ask you to do that!" It wasn't quite a shriek, but it was damn close.
We were in the kitchen at the clubhouse, one room away form Edison, Pagan, Reeve, and Cyrus. Why he was choosing to tell me this information in a public sort of place was completely beyond me.
He was giving up fighting? For me?
Um.
Hell no.
"You didn't have to ask, sweetheart. I know you don't like being there."
"That's not true, I..."
"You like every part but seeing me in that ring."
He wasn't wrong.
It didn't seem to matter how much I tried to psych myself up, how I tried to steel my stomach, how I tried to remind myself that it was a job, I never could feel okay watching him get hurt.
Maybe he was used to it.
But I knew I would never be.
That still was not a good enough reason for him to quit.
Someday, maybe not soon, maybe years down the road when he was too old to fight anyway, he was going to resent me for it. He was going to think I stole something unique from his life, that I had tried to change him.
I wasn't going to be spending the next decade waiting for this decision of his to blow up in my face.
"It's already done," he shrugged, walking toward the fridge and grabbing two ginger ales. I no longer needed them to settle my stomach, but it was more of a comfort thing now. It was the same for him, even after all the years.
"Then call Ward and undo it!" My voice was definitely getting above my normal speaking tone.
That had always been a careful line I walked.
I didn't like fighting almost as a rule.
And the idea of fighting with Lazarus made me, quite frankly, feel like I was going to throw up.
"No."
No?
No talking, no discussion, just no?
"I'm pretty sure we are supposed to discuss decisions like this." I said, my voice a pitch higher still.
"Nah."
He actually turned away from me and shrugged at that.
Like discussing it was a ridiculous idea.
I wasn't sure what possessed me to do it. But one second he was walking away from me toward the doorway. The next, my hand closed around an empty to-go coffee cup and hurled it at his head.
"I want to talk about this!"
That time, it totally was a shriek.
"We can talk about it all you want," he said, a strange smile tugging at his lips, completely inappropriate given the situation. "After you get your pretty ass in that bed and let me fuck this attitude out of you."
