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“I'm sorry, I didn't...” He looked up with remorse. “I didn't use anything.”
“Um, it's okay. I, uh, I went on birth control,” I whispered, my voice sticking in my throat.
He nodded once, before his gaze drifted down over my sheet-covered body, his face twisting in anguish.
“I, uh,” he started, “there was... blood.”
I felt my face heat as his eyes returned to mine. Shifting my gaze, I clutched the cover tighter, resisting the urge to look down at the evidence of my lost virginity. The evidence of my stupid failed attempt to heal him.
“I shouldn't have been so... I wasn't thinking—”
“It's okay,” I cut him off quickly, my voice almost frantic. We didn't need to address what had happened. I didn't want to hear it out loud. The last thing he needed was more regret. The last thing I wanted was an apology. “It's okay,” I said again, quieter this time.
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it again and dropped his head. Rising to his feet, he walked to the door.
With his back to me, he murmured, “Take as long as you need, Ri. Just let yourself out when you're done.”
The door clicked into place quietly behind him, but it felt like a bomb detonated inside my chest.
Twenty
Reno
I’d never felt guilt like it. I’d lost my brother and Dad on the same night. It had hollowed me out in a way I doubted I’d ever recover from. Not sure you’re supposed to. But the way I'd felt after waking up the morning after the funeral, Riley naked beside me and the bed sheets stained with her blood. That was like taking a round from an AK-47 straight to the chest. We couldn’t recover from that. She’d never recover from that.
The worst part was I couldn’t even remember it. Couldn’t remember what she felt like. I’d imagined fucking her in more ways than I could count for years. Imagined making love to her for the past few months. Held off because I wanted to do it right, to make it fucking special for her. Something she’d look back on, no matter where we were in the future, and remember fondly. And when it came down to it, I hadn’t even looked her in the goddamn eyes. That morning, I’d wanted to ask her if she’d wanted it, but I was too damn scared of her answer. So, I’d walked. Like a fucking coward. And just left her there.
Swiping a hand down my face to cover a groan of pure despair, I let my head hang back off the couch. How the fuck could I have done that to her? She’d called to check on me since, left a voice message asking if I was okay. I couldn’t bring myself to answer her call, but I’d listened to that voicemail a hundred times, needing to hear the sound of her voice. I didn’t deserve it, but it was all I had left. I’d been an asshole to her since they died.
It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her there. I did. Fuck, I did. But I’d been on the verge of falling apart every second, and that wasn’t something I wanted her to see. That wasn’t me. Not the guy she knew or thought she loved. I didn’t know who the fuck I was anymore. So, I’d pushed her away. And when she kept coming back, I’d treated her exactly like I swore I never would.
Even if she could forgive me—and because she’s pure heart, she probably would—I wouldn’t let her. I would never forgive myself. I was a fucking tragedy. A train wreck. I had nothing to offer her. Could never give her the things she deserved. And I’d already taken enough from her. I would never be the guy I was before. Not now.
“You ready, man?”
I straightened, bracing my forearms on the sides of the couch before looking up at Leon and Mack. Danny and Jase drew up behind them. All tall and brawny, they’d been on the team with me for as many years as I could remember. We'd had each other’s backs on and off the field, practically lived in each other’s houses and eaten at each other’s tables. These guys loved Brett and Owen like family. They wanted retribution almost as much as I did.
Big palms landed on my back as I stood. I hadn’t fought more than I’d needed to through school. If a score needed to be settled, I’d settle it. Usually with my fists. Word got around. Meant I didn’t need to use them much, not that I couldn’t. Brett’s cousin trained fighters. Until he’d moved to Florida a couple of years ago, he’d owned a gym. O and I used to spend hours there, sparring with the guys, hitting the bags. So yeah, if I needed to fight. I’d fight. And I was fucking good at it.
I’d had the guys looking into what happened with O. Brett, I couldn’t do anything about. His was an invisible killer. But Owen? Today, I’d put a name to the asshole who took his life for a bag of dope. Some strung out, druggie waster who’d raised a knife instead of his fists. Who’d robbed a twenty-year-old of his entire future. Yeah, Owen was no angel, far from it, but did he deserve to die on a street corner before he’d even had a chance to live? Fuck no. And I couldn’t sit back and let that shit go. That wasn’t me.
The guys shadowed me to the door and into Le’s car. It was less than a five-minute drive to the old warehouse on Bleaker Street. Less than five minutes until I could release some of the rage that consumed my head night and goddamn day. Five minutes too fucking long—my body thrummed with restless anticipation the entire drive.
We parked the car and jogged the rest of the way, rounding the side of the building. The shutters were fully raised along one side. A mass of screaming people circled two bloodied, bare-chested guys as they grappled with each other. Adrenaline buzzed in my veins, my heart pumping double time.
Just inside the door, some gold-toothed, gold chain wearing motherfucker tried to educate us on why we shouldn’t be here. Tried to tell me I wouldn’t be kicking the shit out of the guy who killed my brother.
“Got a score to settle with someone in there. Won’t be going fucking anywhere until I do.”
“Nah, bro, you can’t just show up and expect to fight. It don’t work like that.”
Teeth bared, I stepped forward until we stood nose to nose, forehead to forehead, and his sniggering face touched mine. He laughed, like this was all some big fucking game. I pulled my head back and slammed it forward, cracking his nose wide open. A smirk pulled at the sides of my lips as I watched him go down, folding like a deck of fucking cards and screaming like a bitch as his hands slapped to his face. Red liquid oozed through his fingers. Everyone rushed forward. My boys moved in to flank me. I wasn’t leaving tonight without getting what I came for.
The crowd in front of us, three rows deep, bayed like wild animals. They were only happy when they smelled blood. I knew about the bare-knuckle fight scene. I’d been a few times. It was exactly what I needed tonight. Hollers from behind drew my attention outside and I edged back.
My eyes narrowed when they landed on the murdering fucker I came here for, and a shot of pure energy burst through me. I was up, bouncing on the soles of my feet, hot blood coursing through my veins like molten lava readying to explode. I wanted to get my hands on him. Fucking destroy him. I drew a hand up and pointed right at his face as my smirk twisted into a manic smile.
This is for you, O.
