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I look at the clock and realize Mindi will be back soon. Knowing she’ll be tired, I rummage around her small kitchen and find a can of soup. I figure she’ll appreciate having something hot to eat that she doesn’t have to fix herself.
I hear the door open and shut, then I hear her footsteps as she comes closer to the tiny kitchen area. I switch the burner down to simmer and turn to face her. There are things that need to be said.
“I’m sorry.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “For not putting the pieces together with Tyler being your ex. It really is a small world. If I’d known, Mindi, I would have done things a little different.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You should have done things a lot different, Fist. How can you say you care when Tyler is out there walking around and working for you?”
I know damn well she can’t be insinuating what I think she is. “Tell me what you mean,” I demand. “Straight talk, damn it.”
Mindi sighs and rubs her eyes. “Fine. Fine. Tyler started changing right in front of my very eyes, Fist. One day . . .” She pauses to take a deep breath. “One day, we were at a state park with a couple of his friends. He got aggressive with me because he said I was looking at his friends in a sexual, suggestive manner. He shoved his forearm against my collar bone and threw me up against a brick wall and told me that if he ever caught me staring at his friends like that again, he’d cut my eyes out.”
I don’t say anything as I watch Mindi struggle against the tears in her eyes. The tears win, and my fingers curl into fists as I watch them slide unchecked down her face. My stomach is churning at the vulgarity this mother fucker subjected her to.
“Then,” Mindi continues in a voice shaking with emotion, “before I left Tyler, he had another violent episode. Extremely violent. He hit me in the face, he pushed me, and my arm was cut pretty badly on a dresser. That’s when I knew I had to leave.”
I make a silent promise to myself then and there that I will make sure Tyler will never have the opportunity to terrorize another woman. Stepping forward, I gather Mindi close and rock her where we stand.
“Shh, shh,” I croon into her hair as I rub her back. She just presses her face into my shoulder and cries harder.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffles pitifully. “I’m so sorry. I hate getting emotional like this.”
“It’s all right, sweetness. But know this, a real man would never hurt a woman that way. Real men don’t use their fists on a woman. Tyler is just a boy, just an idiotic boy who doesn’t realize the treasure he had in you.”
I push her back a step so I can get a good look at her face. It’s splotchy and wet and absolutely gorgeous. “Come on,” I tell her gently. “I made you some soup. You’ll feel better after you eat.”
Mindi makes a noise that sounds something like a wet snuffle. “Thank you, Fist. That was sweet of you.”
I cup her face with my hands and look into her eyes. “I hope you can forgive me for everything that’s happened.”
After a few moments of humming silence, Mindi covers my hands with hers. “It’s water under the bridge,” she murmurs. “I thought you must have known who Tyler was.”
I step back to the tiny stove and ladle the chicken and rice soup into bowls. “Most of the time, I don’t handle the dealers directly. It’s someone else in the club.”
Mindi nods. “Then I’m sorry for making assumptions when I didn’t know the facts.”
I flash her a smile. “Hey, it’s water under the bridge, right? Since my bike won’t be fixed for a week or so, would you mind if I stay with you?”
“I’d love for you to stay with me,” she responds. “Let’s eat in front of the TV.”
We fix two small trays with bowls of soup and bottles of water, then settle on the little couch. Mindi flips through the channels and stops when she finds a channel playingFull House.
I let out a heartfelt groan. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Mindi giggles and the sound sends a warm spark through me. “Full Houseis one of my favorite shows,” she confesses.
“Fine. We’ll watchFull House,” I tell her and spoon up some soup.
“How’s your dad?” Mindi asks during a commercial break.
“He’s good. Busy with shit, but good. Pissed at me for fucking things up with you,” I tell her.
A flush works its way up her neck. “It wasn’t all your fault,” she mutters. “I’ll be sure to tell him that if I ever see him again. What about Bear and the others?”
I relate little tidbits of information to her as we eat, funny stories I know my brothers wouldn’t mind sharing, and Mindi laughs. She tells me that her waitress friend, Darla, thinks I’m hot, and I naturally agree.
