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“Yeah,” I say, and straighten up fully so she doesn’t see that my ass is feeling like roadkill right now.
Bree giggles quietly before she steps to the side. “Okay, but you sounded like you were about to die.”
“Little fighter is getting heavy is all,” I say, and try not to let my wobbly arms wake Casey.
I pushed it too far in the gym today. I know better than to do that, but I couldn’t help it. Fucking Jamey Silva knew what he was doing when he made those videos.
He knew it and did it to get under my skin.
I’ll fucking beat him when I get my chance to put my hands around his neck, I know it. If I don’t kill him that is. That’s a fucking temptation that’s way too appealing right now. I know it shouldn’t be, but I really do want to cause the fucking asshole some pain and suffering.
Just thinking of him has the muscles in my arms twitching in anticipation of the war we’re going to have.
Dropping Casey into his bed as gently as my shaky arms can manage, I turn toward Bree’s presence. I’m half-fucking surprised she isn’t gone already. I know I’ve made a lot of promises to her, but she hasn’t yet reciprocated the promise of staying with me.
I need her to be here with me, I know it.
I know it as deep down as I know that Casey is a permanent part of my life now.
Casey needs me and I need him. I need the reminder that there’s a life outside of all the pain and misery I’ve been living in.
I need Bree too.
I need that light that’s in her eyes right now, and the soft smile that appears when she watches me put Casey to bed.
And I can’t wait for that look to be in her eyes every day. I know she’s got some shit going on outside of us, but whatever the fuck it is we’ll fix it together.
That or I’ll figure out how to hide the body of the douche who knocked her down. The desert is a big place and it has lots of forgotten holes.
Moving quietly through the room, I reach out to take Bree’s hand, and lead us out. “Dude’s been falling asleep pretty damn easily lately.”
“I noticed. He seems pretty happy and content right now. Like he’s finally feeling safe,” she says, and a fleeting emotion flashes across her face.
It’s a mixture of sadness and something else. Hope, perhaps?
“You okay?” I ask and pull her toward my bedroom.
She doesn’t even put up a token resistance. “Yeah, just tired.”
“Long day?” I ask.
Moving up until she’s beside me, she pokes me in the arm. “Yes, but nothing like yours. Did you try to kill yourself out there?”
“Maybe,” I say, “but I have to be ready for whatever war I’m getting ready to step in. Fighting Jamey is going to be a war, no peace talks. He went way too far.”
She nods her head. “I could tell, though I have to tell you the truth, I’ve never followed MMA before I met Chase, and even then, I haven’t given it more than a few glances. I know Chase was the world champ when he retired, and from what my mom says, he was one of the best and scariest fighters out there.”
Despite our differences over his sister, I still have a shit ton of respect for Chase. “Yeah. He was called the Reaper for a reason. When Chase fought, he buried guys in the mat. He put ‘em down and made sure they stayed there. He has some fights that they still talk about.”
Bree smiles at me. “What do they call you?”
“Waste,” I say with a laugh. “Or at least that’s the latest one.”
“What?” she asks, confused.
“I haven’t exactly been on the straight and narrow as of late,” I say with a shrug.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I toss it at the dirty clothes hamper.
