Chapter 19
The gym’s walls reverberated with the rhythmic thud of leather gloves striking heavy bags. On the days when we needed it, Rafe and I would meet here to work out our frustrations.
For him, it was usually about his father, and for me, my grandfather and cousin.
Today, though, my frustration came from a five-foot-four dark-haired woman who happened to be my wife.
She’d unlocked something inside me, and as desperately as I wanted to shove the key into her palm and demand she throw it away, I couldn’t.
I wanted more.
Wanted to get to know her. Emotionally, intimately.
I just didn’t know how to ask for it.
Last night in the kitchen, I was close. So bloody close I would have kissed her if the damn voice inside my head hadn’t made itself known.
Not a voice exactly but rather the cold timbre of my father’s laugh, wordlessly taunting me that I was just like him.
I hated it. Hated him.
Hated even more that the fear of becoming a monster overpowered every other emotion like a dark shadow slowly stealing the light until it consumed everything.
I was sick of it.
And I didn’t know how to get away from it.
With these thoughts still on my mind, I finished my stretch and joined Rafe in the ring.
“So about last night.” He threw a jab, testing my defenses.
I slipped it with ease, returning a quick right hook to his body. “What about it?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He grinned and came at me with a combination of punches that left me ducking and weaving. “How ’bout we address the fact you practically threw me and Tristan out?” Eyes burning with mirth, he bounced on his feet. “Has she moved into your bedroom yet?”
The thought of Snow in my bed turned the blood in my veins into a fucking inferno. It didn’t take much to picture her splayed out on my sheets while I found different ways to make her scream.
A jolt of pain snapped me back to reality. Rafe’s gloved hand connected with my ribs.
“Maybe I should quit PR and go into matchmaking.” He laughed. “I’ve got a knack for it.”
I shot my right arm out, glove tapping my friend’s chin more forcefully than I intended.
He shuffled back, touching the spot I’d knocked. But instead of glaring at me or even retaliating, the bastard smiled a wide toothy grin.
“This is going even better than I thought it would.”
I rushed forward, ready with another strike. “What?”
“Oh no.” Rafe dodged my punch and surprised me with another one against my ribs. “Watching you figure it all out is part of the fun.”
Tired of the conversation and his damn riddles, I doubled down. So did he. For the better part of an hour, we bobbed and weaved, throwing jabs and hooks until every breath we took sent a big rush of fire to our lungs.
Usually, this was enough to calm whatever demon had been eating at us. It wasn’t. Not for me and not for my friend either.
He had a pensive look on his face all the way back to our cars.
“Everything good with you?” I asked, giving him a sideways glance.
Rafe’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure. You ever wonder what’s the fucking point? Why we keep doing the shit we do, like hamsters running on a never-ending wheel without getting off?”
“All the time,” I answered honestly.
A deep swallow worked its way down his throat as he turned his attention to the busy street. “I’m tired of it.” His troubled gaze was back on me. “And you should be, too.”
“I—”
He shook his head. “I know we don’t talk about this shit. So I’ll say it once and never again. You’re not your father. Or your grandfather. The poison tainting their blood does not run through yours.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t let that fear in.” He breathed out. “Trust me, it’ll consume you.”
Too late. It’d been consuming me for years. I didn’t want to tell him that.
Didn’t need to either. Slapping a palm against my shoulder blade, he tapped me once then got into his car and drove off.
It occurred to me I probably should have asked him what was bugging him, but talking about feelings and shit wasn’t my strong suit.
I wanted to change that.
On the way home, the only thing I could think about was how all three of us knew exactly how fucked-up we were, yet we never talked about it. Maybe if we did, we’d actually work through some demons rather than keep them locked up in the dark where they could keep feeding on our fears.
Fears we allowed to rule our lives.
That’s how it was for me, at least.
The fear of being my father’s son kept me from acting on this undeniable pull I had to Snow.
But what if, by doing that, I kept myself from experiencing something wonderful?
Fuck, my head hurt.
And by the time I walked into my apartment, I was no closer to figuring this shit out. Confused as all hell, I stalked down the hallway straight to the kitchen.
I wasn’t too surprised to find Snow there, slicing up yet another apple.
A frown drew my brows together. “Please tell me you eat more than a measly piece of fruit for breakfast.”
Her body jerked, and the knife she’d been using fell on the counter, hitting the marble with a clang. Out of all the things I found adorable about this woman, the fact she scared so easily had to be one of my favorites.
Without looking at me, Snow picked up her knife. “You need a freaking bell because you move like a damn cat.”
“Sorry.” I chuckled, venturing farther into the kitchen. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I grabbed a shake from the fridge before joining her at the counter. I’d wanted to stand as close as possible to her, but with all the weirdness inside my brain, I chose the spot opposite her.
Not my worst decision.
It allowed me to shamelessly take my fill.
I raked my gaze over her gorgeous face and studied every little detail. The slight frown on her forehead, her dark, thick lashes fanning her cheeks, the gentle slope of her nose, the tiny sparkling stud, and those damn delectable red lips.
Fuck, she was stunning.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, voice low, gaze trained on her plate.
“Why are you only eating an apple?”
Those big, green eyes finally met mine, and shit, my insides immediately erupted into chaos. Blood boiling, heart thundering, I tried my damnedest to ignore the feel of my skin tightening. To ignore the way the band around my chest squeezed and squeezed.
“I asked you first.” Snow’s voice filtered through my ears like an anchor, tethering me to the present—to this moment—here, with her.
My mouth parted; another smart-ass remark poised on my tongue. But I never set it free. Instead, I chose to go with the truth.
“I’m looking because you’re fucking beautiful.”
Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Then, just like the other day, a pinkish color stained her skin. It started on her chest and slowly crept up into her cheeks.
“You don’t have to say these things,” she whispered.
My brows dipped lower. “Why the hell not? It’s true.”
More head shaking. She didn’t believe me, and I couldn’t understand why.
“Look at me,” I begged.
She didn’t. Not immediately. Five excruciatingly slow seconds ticked by before her lids parted and those pretty green eyes landed on me.
Suddenly, there was too much space between us. Rounding the counter, I stopped right in front of her. Close enough for flowers and strawberries to tease my senses. Close enough to reach out and touch her.
I tucked my fingers under her chin and steadily stroked the pad of my thumb along the line of her jaw. Skin so incredibly soft, it felt like velvet beneath my touch. And when she sucked in a sharp, stuttering breath, it was like music to my ears.
“Liam,” she breathed out. But before anything else could follow, a loud, obnoxious melody filled the room.
Snow blinked twice, then took two abrupt steps away from me. Teeth digging into her lip, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and grimaced.
“I need to go,” she said quickly. “Interview.” Another step backward. “It’s across town. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”
My feet moved, too. For every step she took away from me, I took one closer to her. Until she was standing with her back against the wall.
“What are you doing after?”
“After?” she stuttered, eyes wide.
“Yeah, Snow. After your interview.” I was in front of her now. Dipping my head, I looked straight into her eyes. “Do you have plans?”
“No.”
She licked her lips, and like a starved animal, I followed the slow slide of her tongue. “Wait, yes. I’m meeting Natalie. She wants me to go baby shopping with her. Why?”
“Meet me, instead.” My heart jackhammered against my ribs. “Have lunch with me.”
She sucked in another one of those stuttering breaths. “Why?”
“I’d like to get to know you.” I shrugged. “Lunch seems like a good place to start.”
Her eyes widened a fraction before she averted her gaze and stared at a spot somewhere over my shoulder. She didn’t say a word. The longer silence stretched between us, the louder and faster my heart pounded.
“I guess,” she started, finally putting me out of my damn misery. “I can go shopping with Natalie another day.”
It was almost impossible to keep a sigh of relief from spilling over my lips.
“I don’t know how long my interview will go, but I should be done by midday.” A hint of a smile touched her lips. It wasn’t anything big, but still enough for my heart to dip. “Does that work for you?”
“It’s perfect.”
Her smile widened another fraction, wreaking more havoc on my insides. “You don’t need to check if you have an appointment at that time?”
“No.” If I had one, I’d move it.
She took a few steps to the side. This time, I didn’t follow.
“I’ll see you later, then.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes stayed on me for three more heartbeats then she spun around and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving me to stare at an empty space, wondering how long I had to wait to see her again.