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“He wanted to be sure you were okay since you weren’t answering. He asked that you call him.”
“Mmm.” My eyes remain on the road, but I let him know I heard him. I’m not open to discussing Gabriel with Cap. The last thing he’d want to know is Gabriel only wants me for my holes. Cap may be a bit of a manwhore, but as far as he’s concerned, I don’t have sex.
As for Gabriel, it’ll be a big fat day in hell before I’ll be calling him. Let him stew in his sex juices, since that’s all he cares to share with me.
We’ve got a few more hours before we reach our first prospect. I pull out the folder Cap gave me yesterday and study the fighters we’ll be checking out over the next three days. Usually the guys come to us, but a few times a year, Cap will hit the road to woo the ones who haven’t made it to us yet. The ones who caught his eye, who haven’t made it big, and probably are underdogs. He tends to like the broken souls. He says they have more fire and more to lose once they get a taste for the life they could have—once they see the kind of family they could be a part of. Cap takes good care of his fighters, really anyone he deems worthy of his attention, his family.
I was lucky enough to get on his radar. He made sure I knew it wasn’t because of Austin. He gave me a chance because he saw the same fire in me. I think he saw a broken soul that needed a place to belong. He was right. He made me feel welcome and integral to the team’s success. Besides Austin, I’d never felt anyone cared if I lived or died, or if I even existed in the first place.
Because of Cap, I know I’ll be okay no matter how many Austins or Gabriels dump me for greener pastures. Cap would never let me dwell in this world alone, and whether I stay or move on, he’ll always welcome me back with open arms.
That’s Captain Jimmy Durant for you. I reach over and slip my hand in his. I may never find a man who will fall in love with me, but I know this man loves me as a daughter, and maybe that’ll be enough.
He’s quick to give it a squeeze. “It’ll be okay, Frankie. He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, it’s his fucking loss.” He squeezes and shakes my hand. “And it’ll still be fucking okay.Youwill be okay.”
I nod my assent. The hole in my chest feels the furthest it can be from okay, but I can’t dwell on it now. We’ve got work to do. Fighters to impress. And air to breathe that’s not tainted by the man who stole my heart and trampled on it like it was just another hole to be fucked.
I stand in Frankie’s office. The belongings she didn’t take with her on the scouting trip with Cap are stuffed in a corner behind her desk—in fucking trash bags. I rub at the ache in my chest. What the fuck has she done to me? The sight of her stuff sitting here like discarded trash has rage bubbling to the surface. I did that. I didn’t leave her better than I found her. I left her worse off.
We moved her and Austin out of their apartment a few weeks ago. I was shocked to see how little stuff she had, how few clothes she possessed. I always thought she and Austin were doing good. I believed they had enough to do more than just survive. I was wrong. I know Frankie makes a good living. Cap pays her well. But you’d never know it by the contents of their closet or the scarceness of their furniture. The living room looked normal with two couches and a kitchen table with four chairs. It was a one-bedroom apartment. There’s not much space. But it was the bedroom that only had a bed in it. I didn’t notice the day I went to collect her things a few days after Austin hurt her. The vision of its starkness is burned into my brain. No suitcases, only a single duffle bag I’d used that day to grab essentials she needed. Everything they had went in a handful of boxes. It turned out the place came furnished with the couches and dining table, and what was in the kitchen wasn’t theirs either. Not even a coffee cup belonged to them—to her.
Now, as I look at her trash bags of belongings, guilt eats at the lining of my stomach. I told her I was playing for keeps. I didn’t know what that meant. I still don’t. I’m not husband material. And fatherhood? Who the fuck would want me as a father? How I feel about my Angel can’t be labeled. It’s not tied to some pretty picture of a husband and wife with two point five children. I never saw much beyond today.
I saidfor keeps. I may not know what that is. But it sure as fuck doesn’t end with her crap stuffed in trash bags and discarded like yesterday’s garbage.
She may not be returning my calls, but her stuff is returning to my home. She’ll have to see me eventually. I’ll make her see reason then. Make her see we don’t need labels. We don’t need visions for the future that go beyond having her in my life, in my house, and in my bed.
It’s enough.
It has to be.
I’m not capable of more.
THE SUNSHINE IS PISSING ME OFF.We’ve been going nonstop, and my mood calls for dreary skies and thunderstorms, but all we’ve gotten are beautiful days, mild temps, and a coastline calling to me to run away with a carefree surfer and forget about these MMA boys.
“Darlin’, you’re far too pretty to be out here scowling at the sun.” Rowdy, a fighter on Cap’s list closes the door behind him, coming to stand by me as I hold up the wall, needing a break from the testosterone inside Max’s Gym. “What’d it do to you?”
“What’d what do to me?”
“The sun.”
“It dared to be bright when I’m feeling dark.” I shield my eyes from the sun as I look up at his tall, well-sculpted form. I’m regretting leaving my sunglasses in the car.
He chuckles, releasing his sandy-brown hair from the man bun he’s rocking quite successfully. “If it’s darkness you seek, I know the perfect place.” His dimpled grin has me smiling while he squints down at me. The sun is too bright for his light blue eyes too.
“Are you trouble, Rowdy?”
Pushing off the wall, he comes to stand before me, blocking the sun, one hand resting against the wall beside me. “No, ma’am. I’m far less trouble than the one who’s tainted your ability to enjoy a beautiful California day.”
“Ma’am?” I can’t be older than his Texas ass.
He tips his invisible hat. “It’s out of respect, Frankie. My momma would have my hide if I gave you less.”
I believe him. He’s not full of piss and vinegar like most of the fighters I’ve run across. But he’s got a dark streak I can spot a mile away. So does Cap, or he wouldn’t be on our list. I mean, his nickname is Rowdy… “Give it to me in feet. This dark place of yours. How far we talking?”
“Frankie.” He leans in. “I’d rather give it to you in inches.” His eyes bore into mine. “But I sense that’s not attention you’d welcome.” He steps back. “And since I’m tryin’ to make a good impression, I’ll give you this…” He rubs his chin, narrowing his eyes down the road. “I’d say about fifty feet, give or take a mile or two.”
He’s funny. I’ll give him that. He’s got good ole boy mixed with devilish charm down to a science. And though he’s virtually a stranger, he doesn’t feel like one. His touch should bother me, but it doesn’t. There’s something about him that seems familiar—safe. Right now, I could use all the familiar and safe I can find. “Lead the way, Darkboy. Show me what you got.”
