AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He stiffens, the lazy circles he’s been fingering on my hip still. He chews on his response so long I start to doze off. “It was a necessary evil. I’ll tell you all about it, someday. But know this, I’ve always had your back. And I always will.”
The lazy circles resume.
He’s right. I am afraid to trust him. Mr. Asshole made an appearance tonight, crushing my vulnerable sprit that was starting to heal.He’s always had my back?I don’t understand how making me feel like shit washaving my back.
As confused as ever, I drift off to sleep.
I’VE LEFT HER ALONE FOR Aweek. I’m irritable as hell. Everyone’s keeping me at a distance, even her. I haven’t slept in her bed since the night I went to their apartment and found out what really happened. Austin took her hard, dislocated her arm and left her bleeding on the floor. Naked.
And that asshole’s been cheating on her.
He broke her heart, broke her body, and I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of that out of my head—or stop wanting to kill him.
I don’t know what the fuck happened to Austin. The guy I met five years ago would move heaven and earth for his girl. He would never physically hurt her, and he sure as shit wouldn’t cheat, except for the random blowjob he regretted for years. This new Austin surpasses even my level of assholiness. I’ve never physically hurt a woman, and I’ve never been in a relationship requiring faithfulness, but I know I would be faithful.
If I were with Frankie, she would never doubt my commitment to her. Ever.
But I’m not with Frankie. She’s still broken and healing from the effects of another man’s hands on her body. I am guaranteed to fuck this up, and I can’t have any part of making this harder on her. The strength it’s taking to stay away from her is nearly killing me.
King Asshole is back. Not because I’m being a dick toher, but because the distance she needs is ripping a hole in my chest I can’t seem to breathe around. I want to protect her. Keep her safe. But every time I look at her, I see Austin hurting her. I see the effects of his dismissal of her pain. I see a broken angel I want to scoop up in my arms and heal with my words, my body, and promises that I’ll never hurt her like he did. But the truth is, the promises of forever after she wants, deserves, I can’t give. I don’t want a wife and kids. My father made sure of that. So, I’m giving her space, which is making me act like a temperamental ass to everyone else around me. It’s necessary to keep her at arm’s length while she heals, and I focus on winning my next fight.
If I ever do win her heart, I want it to be because it’s me she wants, and not because I’m the rebound guy, the one looking after her, a convenience.
I don’t want to want her. But I do. And everyone around me is paying for my terrible mood.
The guys haven’t found Austin. I’ve been too preoccupied with training and keeping her safe to go looking myself. I’m Army-trained special ops, but I’m a medic—a first responder—not a spy or a tracker. I fix those injured while on the hunt, not doing the hunting myself. If I could heal Frankie’s heart with my med-kit, I would. But time is the healer she needs. Not an overprotective asshole who wants her in his bed for the foreseeable future.
So, I train. I cook. I watch after Frankie as much as she’ll let me. I sneak into her room at night to be sure she’s safe. I don’t climb under the covers and hold her like I want—like her restless sleep calls to me to do. I sit in the chair, or if I’m bold, at the foot of the bed. I don’t stay long, only long enough to ease the knot in my gut and soothe the beast who never believes she’s safe unless she’s in my arms or in my sights. Sometimes, when she wakes from a bad dream, she holds my hand or urges me to rub her back until she falls back to sleep. It’s not nearly enough, but it’s what she needs. And I’ll move mountains to give her that.
That makes for long-ass days, and even longer nights. It’s not conducive to training, to my focus, or my commitment to the team. They depend on me. Captain depends on me to set an example, to forge the path the others can follow. I will win every fight this year, even if it means I do it without my Angel by my side. I’ve had my blinders on for the past five years. It should be a piece of cake, but I’ve seen the promised land. I’ve held it in my arms. I’ve cared for those fields. I’ve stood as sentry, protecting it. Now I want to dwell in it. I want to take up residence and never leave.
Every day is a test of my willpower. And today, it’s starting early.
Frankie had a follow up with the doctor this morning. She’s hoping the doctor will give the okay for her to begin physical therapy. She and I both know it’s too early for that. I doubt the doctor will even let her out of the sling.
Liliana is taking her. I offered, but Frankie shut me down. I didn’t fight her on it. I have a sparring match I didn’t want to miss or have to reschedule. Alex Young is only in town for few days. He’s a former heavyweight champ and here as a favor to Coach, who’s friends with Alex’s father. If I don’t take the opportunity, Sloan or Walker will, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give them a leg up on me. We’re all heavyweights. I’m set to get the matches, the big invites this year. It’s my time. My title to take. And as much as Sloan and Walker are brothers in arms, they are nipping at my heels. We’re on the same team, but MMA fighting is a solo sport. When I step in the octagon, ring, or cage, it’s me against the other guy. My team is there to support me leading up to and after the fight—during, it’s all on me.
The air is thick in the Black Ops MMA Gym this morning. I can hear the planes taking off and landing at the old Copper Airfield where we’ve taken up residence in an old hangar. It’s ideal, really. We don’t get walk-ins or curious spectators, which is the point of Captain setting up shop here. It’s not for casuals. I’m not sure if this an experiment to keep our focus on training and not fighting off ring-chasers and the multitudes of distractions in Vegas, or if Cap is thinking of making this a permanent move. The Vegas gym is still in full swing, but the big contenders—like me—made the move here with strong prodding from Captain Jimmy.
I’m warming up, getting ready to step in the practice ring, when a commotion at the door gets my attention.
Frankie.
My Angel.
My demon from my own personal hell.
Liliana dropped me off at my apartment to get my car. She thought she was coming with me to the doctor, but I had other plans. I don’t need an escort or anyone telling me what I can’t or shouldn’t do. That’s why I didn’t take Gabriel up on his half-hearted offer to take me. He never would have agreed to let me get my car, much less drive it to the doctor alone. Though, he didn’t put up a fight when I turned him down.
Ever since Gabriel found out what happened with Austin, he’s been distant and angry. I don’t believe he’s only upset with Austin. If that was the case, he wouldn’t be giving me the cold shoulder too. I’m tainted, and he can barely stand the sight of me. Except at night. I’ve woken up more than a few times to find him watching over me. He makes me feel safe, but my gut twists at the idea of wanting more from him. I’m not sure I can trust another fighter, another man—especially one who runs through ring-chasers like it’s a sport.
I don’t have time for men who don’t see my potential. I know I’m a diamond in the rough, my edges worn down by the last year of living in Austin’s shadow. Perhaps even longer than that.
Captain never would have given me a chance as a physical therapist for his MMA Team if it weren’t for Austin. I’m thankful, but it’s my hard work and dedication that keep me in Cap’s good graces. He hired me while I was still in school, paying me while I interned for his sports medicine doctor and physical therapist. While they covered other facilities, I was dedicated to Black Ops MMA Gym, and I’ve never regretted my decision.
I got into physical therapy as a way to stay relevant in Austin’s life. I didn’t want to be the outsider when it came to the world of professional MMA fighting as so many girlfriends are. I wanted to be right there in the middle of it, as close as possible, in a key role other than arm candy. I succeeded. But my success is not because of favors, but because of hard work and a true love of what I do. The human form is a spectacular thing—especially highly trained athletes at the peak of their game—a beautiful sight to behold. And when hurt, I want to be the one to help them get back to top form.
My profession is no longer due to a desire to stay close to Austin, but to pursue a job I love in a field that excites and challenges me. Never short of testosterone, it’s a daily test to prove myself to the guys, ensure I’m needed and respected by guys strong enough to snap me like a twig.
