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“Well, huh. Why weren’t you in class then?”
“Something came up,” Noah said, rubbing his free hand hard against his thigh.
“Wanna know what I think? I’ll tell you, just in case you don’t ask,” Mo said. “I think that’s some bullshit. I can hear in your voice that something’s wrong. So, should we start this conversation over from the beginning?”
“Fuck,” Noah said, nearly groaning.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Tell me where you live, Noah. I fucking hate talking on the phone.”
“Mo—”
“I didn’t ask, son. Tell me where you live.”
“What are you, a drill sergeant?” Noah grumbled.
A quick, deep chuckle. “Nope. But I always thought I would’ve made a good one.” Noah liked Mo and didn’t have the energy to fight, so he gave him the address. “See you in fifteen.” They hung up, the clock on his cell reading 4:15. Apparently, his body had decided to check out whether his mind wanted to or not.
Noah had just enough time to take a shower and change clothes when a knock sounded against the door. Sure enough, it was Mo.
“I like how you’ve decorated the place,” Mo said, looking around at the completely blank walls. “Homey.”
Noah actually managed something close to a laugh. “I just fucking moved in.”
Mo chuckled as he took a seat on the couch. “Suuure you did.”
Shaking his head, Noah sat down, too. “Why are you here, Mo?”
“I had this friend in the Rangers. His name was Sebastian Kalinsky, and everyone called him Bash.” Mo leaned back, eased his legs up, and crossed them at the ankle, the heel of one mammoth boot resting on the coffee table. “Bash was a funny motherfucker. Always pulling pranks, had a nickname for everyone, just a super quick, dry wit. Bash was good at his job, too. If he had your six you always knew you were covered. Know what I mean?” Noah nodded. “Year before I got out of the Army, Bash stepped on a landmine. He lost most of his right leg, but he lived, and he was a lucky SOB to have survived, too. Everyone said so. When I got out, one of the first things I did was go visit Bash. He wasn’t doing great adjusting to the amputation and civilian life, but he said he was hanging in, and I believed him. Three months later, he stuck a Glock in his mouth and pulled the trigger.” Mo nailed Noah with a stare. “You remind me of Bash. A lot.”
The words hung there for a long time.
Noah heaved a deep breath. “I’m sorry about your friend.” He braced his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands over his face. For a long time, all Noah could do was look down at the floor. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to end up like him.”
Mo put his feet down one big boot at a time. “I kn
ow you don’t. But sometimes, you need help to make sure that doesn’t happen. Consider me your help.”
Unsure what to say, Noah managed a nod. Emotion clogged his throat anyway, so he wasn’t sure he could’ve talked if he wanted to.
“Now, you and me are gonna go grab some dinner, and then we’re gonna go to Full Contact.” Mo rose from the couch, then turned to Noah and raised an eyebrow.
Noah got up, threw some gym clothes in a bag, and followed Mo out the door.
Almost two hours later, they arrived at the gym, stuffed full of steak and eggs they’d gotten at Mo’s favorite diner. Mo’s company and no-nonsense directness had pulled Noah back from the edge of something almost too scary to contemplate.
Even though Noah had finally gotten some food in him, fight club turned out to be a disaster. His equilibrium was fucked all to hell, the vision in his good eye kept going wavy, and he was so exhausted that he actually asked Mack if he could sit out from sparring.
After class, Mack asked him to stay after again. Mo stayed, too.
“Talk to me, Noah,” Mack said. The three of them sat on the benches at the side of the gym. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but WFC is family. My family. And you’re part of that now.”
Problem was, Noah didn’t know what to say. He was just so…lost. “I don’t know what to do. I just know I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can decide you want to get back up again. Are you there?” Mack asked.
“God, if this isn’t the bottom, I don’t want to know what is,” Noah said, looking from one man to the other.
“No, you don’t,” Mo said. “And I don’t want you to find out, either.”
