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“Eight.”
My eyes widened and I forgot about the sheet, crawling across the bed to kneel behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and place my head against his strong back.
He placed one hand over my forearm and gripped tightly. “By the time I was in seventh grade, I had enough anger in me to start fights in school. I was suspended all the time but couldn’t tell my dad, so I left the house in the morning, pretending to go to school. My gym teacher, God,” he sighed. “Mr. Jahn. He saved me. He recognized what others missed, that something was going on at home. At gym class, he made me do extra laps to burn off the angst. After school one day, he took me to a boxing gym.”
“He just took you?” I thought of Chris’ private school gym teacher just driving him to a boxing gym. He’d get fired and possibly arrested for the action.
“My dad didn’t give a shit where I was as long as when it came time for a happy family photo I was there. It was different back then anyway. I went with Mr. Jahn, grudgingly, but found an outlet in the structure of boxing. The rules, but the ability to use my hands, to beat the shit out of someone and not get in trouble.”
I kissed the warm skin of his back, urging him without words to continue, that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I started to box competitively, but that wasn’t enough. The gym added karate and Muay Thai classes and I took them all. It was better to hang out at the gym than at home. My grades improved, my fighting at school stopped. I owe it all, including graduating, to Mr. Jahn. The week after graduation, I went into the army. I couldn’t get any farther from my dad than where the army could send me. The Middle East was easy.”
I didn’t think that was the case, but based on what he was sharing, perhaps he was right. “If you were able to get away from him, why is he calling you now?”
“He’s followed my career. My tours overseas. Everything.” He released my arm and turned so he could face me. “Kept tabs on me. I’m the only person who can truly hurt him, his career. He can’t kill me like he did my mom, but he can fuck with me. Ruin any happiness I have.”
He turned his head so his eyes met mine. Lifting a hand, he stroked his fingers over my cheek. “He’s trying to get to me through you.”
I grasped his hand and held it in place. “Why? I don’t understand. You haven’t done anything to him, even joined the army to get away. Why doesn’t he just leave you alone?”
His eyes narrowed in frustration. “Heard the name Edward Green?”
I frowned, the name meaning nothing, then I remembered. “Holy crap, Gray. You mean Green Acres, the retirement homes?”
He nodded. “Nursing homes, retirement communities, memory care centers. He’s cornered the elderly care market on the East Coast. He’s big time, but not so big on his own. No one cares about a guy who’s made a fortune in taking care of old people. Those are his words, not mine.” He paused before he continued. “I think it pisses him off that I made it big, bigger than he’ll ever be.”
“He’s making you mad though, and that’s got to worry him. Retribution from an MMA fighter with your connections has got to be something he has to consider. That makes no sense. Leaving you alone, forgetting you exist is a better strategy.”
“In the past, he just called every once in a while to fuck with me, reminding me that he was around, watching, even from far away. That’s it.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. I was missing something, the missing piece that stirred up his past, that had his dad back in his life, pestering him, annoying him, making him angry and tense. It had to be something important to him and—
Of course. I froze, my eyes going wide, so wide at the realization. I could see in his eyes that I was right that there was more. Pulling back, I climbed off the bed, not caring I was naked. “It’s me. I’m the reason he’s calling. He knows about me.”
I talked as I paced back and forth on the far side of the bed while Gray sat motionless, only his eyes following.
“He’s using me to mess with you.” I pointed to myself, then at him. “This isn’t fair to you, what he’s doing.”
“I know,” he said, resigned. “It’s more than that. He texted you.”
I froze in place, a slice of panic cutting through my concern for Gray. “Texted me?”
He nodded, reaching for my cell on the bedside table. “Last night when you were in the shower. I heard it ring from your bag and pulled it out to make sure it wasn’t Chris. I recognized the number, Emory.”
I took my phone from him, slid my fingers over the screen until the text came up. Read it. My stomach plummeted. While my son was fully grown and legally an adult, that didn’t make him any less my baby. No one messed with my kid, and now Gray had the extra weight of this on his shoulders as w
ell. I glanced at Gray’s hard eyes. “Your dad knows about Chris.”
He nodded.
“I…I have to go. You shouldn’t have to deal with this or with him after what he did to you.” I moved quickly around the bed for the door.
“What? Wait!” He used his swiftness to jump to his feet and grab my arm, halting me in my tracks, spinning me to face him, confusion on his face. “Where are you going?”
My heart was racing and I was frantic. “Where am I going? He knows about Chris,” I repeated. “I can’t stay here, be with you like this with that…that crazy man. Jesus, Gray, you’ve been through so much. God, the horrors you had to deal with when you were just a child and now you’ve got the added weight of me. But messing with Chris is where I draw the line.”
“He won’t touch Chris. He’s just being a fucker and pushing your buttons, which pisses me off. That’s what he wants! He wants you to leave. He’s winning,” he said, his voice snapping, his hand gripping my arm.
