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“I’ll stay. She could get up and fall or something during the night. I don’t feel right leaving her,” Waylon said.
“I understand. I don’t think she’ll remember what she said when the morning comes,” Murphy added.
“Sure as shit will deny it entirely,” Ricky said then chuckled.
“She said no to them. She was thinking about us. It doesn’t matter if she’ll remember admitting that. She said it and that gives me hope,” Brody said then walked out of the house.
“I’ll come over first thing in the morning. We’ll make some breakfast,” Ricky said then exited the house next.
Murphy stared at Waylon.
“You sure that you don’t want me to stay? She may be pretty pissed off come morning.”
“I couldn’t sleep now if I tried. Come over in the morning.”
“Okay,” Murphy said then walked out.
Waylon locked the door then walked over toward her bedroom again.
He stared at her as she slept.
He felt the struggle within himself, the fight to not get involved with her or any woman and the need to feel. He was a coldhearted bastard. He knew that. He took his anger, his frustration, and emotions out in the ring. Right now, he wanted to hit something. It was how he dealt with the memories of his past. The way he blurred the images in his head of all the bodies, the loss, the danger of being Special Forces. That hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach never left him. Since the time he and Brody were orphaned and left to fend for themselves, there was that emptiness. He tried so hard to fill it with obsession of the job, being the best he could be in Special Forces, and even now in the ring.
Over the years he and Brody talked about that emptiness, and strived to fill it with all the wrong things. No woman, no bonds between comrades could fill it. It was always there. Always lingering as a reminder of his inadequacies. His parents hadn’t even wanted him and Brody. Thank God for the dads and Mom.
He shook his head, wondering why the hell all these thoughts were hitting him right now. He walked away from her and toward the large, long sofa. He would never fit on it. He would be sore by morning, but he wasn’t leaving her. He couldn’t get himself to shut her out. He didn’t know why, but he hoped that he could get to the bottom of this and find out why Amelia was so adamant about him and his brothers.
He had another week before his next fight in Dallas. He needed to train, starting Monday.
He pulled out his cell phone and looked over his calendar. A picture of him from one of the fights in Vegas appeared in an e-mail from his trainer.
He stared at the picture, and the fierce expression. He looked like a monster, a man of steel. In the ring he felt free. In the ring nothing else mattered and as he fought his opponent, that hollow feeling slightly filled. It wasn’t totally gone, but it mended temporarily as he fought to exhaustion.
Yeah, in the ring, I’m numb to everything.
Chapter 8
Amelia lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Considering that she was feeling pretty good last night, she didn’t have a huge headache. She wondered why she was naked in bed, then sort of remembered Murphy talking with her after Waylon carried her half naked from the lake.
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
She slowly got up and pulled on a pair of boy short panties and a camisole. She walked to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled her hair from the confines of some crazy updo. She remembered pulling her hair up to avoid getting wet when she jumped into the lake in her panties and bra.
She’d shown off her body to a bunch of strangers. She’d definitely had a few too many.
She decided that coffee would help clear her head before she took a shower. She walked through the hallway and into the kitchen, halting as she saw the large, shirtless man standing there.
She gasped and Waylon turned around to face her.
He looked her over and widened his eyes.
“Morning.”
“Uhm, what are you doing here?”
He turned on the pot of coffee then walked closer. The man had a gorgeous chest. It was lightly dusted with hair that led down to his jeans. He was so defined. She gulped in appreciation of his sculptured body. He was a boxer and had a rigorous workout routine. She knew enough about that from Mano.
The thought placed a heap of fear into her gut as she turned to look away.
