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"Nothing...more?"
I tighten my lips and shake my head. "Nah, man. Nothing more. She's still healing. Besides, I'm not sure i'm what she needs."
He stares at me, eyes wide for a minute. "The fuck you aren't," he signs fiercely. "She's been through some shit, so she'll need a careful hand. Of course that could be you. If you're not interested, fine, but she would be damned lucky to have you. You're one of the best men I know, and if you can get over your fucking misplaced guilt you could be there for her like no one else ever could."
Misplaced guilt? Jesus, did everyone see it but me? Apparently, yeah, they did. "I didn't think it was misplaced," I mutter.
"Dumbass," Micah returns with a curl of his lip. That's pretty damn definitive. "Kids take the world on their shoulders, and they're screwed up by adult decisions. They have no control over their own lives at that age, so why the fuck could they be the cause of any tragedy?" He shakes his head and mutters, "Dumb."
"Right. Yeah that's logical. I just...couldn't see it, you know?"
"What changed?"
"Bree. She pointed out that I was being an idiot, and wouldn't ever lay that kind of blame on a kid. We get lost in our own shit sometimes," I say, raising my eyebrows at him. "I've admitted my shit. Now, you're the one being a dumbass." He gives me a flat look, and I gentle my voice. "We're men. We're designed to want to protect. But some things are out of our control. It makes us hold tighter to the pieces we can control. I've seen it too many times at work. A garage owner's personal life goes down the drain, and they tighten their grip on their business. They end up a nightmare to work with, controlling, overbearing, and before they know it, they've driven away all of their good employees. In the end, they're left with an empty garage and an emptier bank account." Micah's face is twisted into a grimace. He's getting it.
"Holly's...everything. Can't l—“ he stops and draws in a big breath, exhaling slowly, then pins me with a look of absolute certainty. It's the same look he wore when he decided to bring Holly to live with him after the fire. He was immovable then, so I'm relieved to see it now. The panicky look he's been wearing the last few months was freaking me out.
"Won't lose her," he says firmly, nodding more to himself. He gives me a nod, and focuses on the gym bag at his feet. I move to the other bench and busy myself getting ready for class. I need this. Time to get out of my head and into my body. Time to put aside all my internal drama and just be with my brothers. Spend some real quality time...choking each other out. Sounds like heaven.
Only when I get to the other room Becca's self defense class is exiting, and of course, Bree's right there. I was so focused on getting a glimpse of Holly when I was peeking through the window, I didn't even try to catalog the other students. But of course she's here. She spends a lot of time in Becca's classes. I think they do a bunch of one on one's too.
Our eyes lock from across the room and for a minute, I'm a statue. She's too beautiful. Her skin a rosy pink, flushed from the workout, eyes shining with life.
At least her eyes were shining, until Becca leans over and whispers something in her ear. Her face drains of color, and she shakes her head, vehemently disagreeing with whatever Becca is saying.
But that's the thing about Becca. She's overbearing, and nosy, and most of the time, at least in here, she's right. And if she's right, she won't let up.
Ever.
I busy myself with warming up, but I don't let Bree out of my sight. Becca's hands are on her shoulders now, gripping tightly as she stands toe to toe with her. In many ways, the women are a matched set, both tall, both muscle covered with softness. But the eyes? That's where the similarities end. Becca's eyes are always alert, clear, or filled with mischief. She travels through the world knowing that she can handle anything that comes her way. She proved that against a knife wielding madman in one of our own garages.
Bree's eyes tell a different story. The story of a woman who's been through hell and hasn't managed to find her way back yet.
She will though. She has to.
Finally, Bree's head drops, and she says something that makes Becca squeeze her shoulder, then turn and search the large room. The Dojo is mainly one large open space filled with mats, with two smaller glass enclosed classrooms. So there's nowhere to hide. Not that I'm trying to hide. Her eyes dance over several of the other men, my brothers, and other people in the grappling class. When they come to me, they lock on.
A shiver runs down my back, and for a second, I consider running. I have no idea what she wants, but the last time she looked at me like that, I got kneed in the jewels by a dozen women. Not doing it again, no way. Not for anything.
She must read the panic on my face, because a smirk covers hers.
That's even more terrifying.
I honestly thought things couldn't get scarier until she strides over to me, crouching down in front of me on the mats.
"Bree's joining the class. I'm partnering her with you."
28
BREE
I'm going to hyperventilate. Then I'll pass out and fall on my face in front of all these men. Still, that might be preferable to Becca's plan. Because I don't think I'm ready for this. I can't do it.
I won't.
Except, apparently, Becca doesn't hear any of those words. She just holds your shoulders and talks to you until you stupidly believe you can handle anything.
Then she walks away and I'm left with all my fear and my doubts...and my malfunctioning lungs.
