Chapter 12 #2
I watch her, not letting a moment pass by. Not letting an emotion pass her face unrecognized or uncategorized.
Roxie nods slowly, as if each moment she takes to actually look at me, makes her feel more secure here. With me.
“I see it now,” she echoes my words and the rope of fear around my heart loosens slightly.
She might stay.
“Please, let me help you.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Asher standing like a creeper in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest like he’s pissed off he wasn’t included in the conversation, but he’ll get over it.
I shrug aggressively and gesture with my head, telling him to get in here if he’s going to fucking pout about it.
He steps forward, arms dropping to his side as he rests his arm–carefully–over her.
“Let us help you.”
I don’t miss the way Roxie jolts slightly when his arm rests on her and my chest tightens.
Someone’s touched her. And once I figure everything out…the hand that touched her will be dismembered.
Mark my fucking words.
It happens so fast I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t so on alert, so tuned in to every single movement she makes. Roxie slips right into that confident, seductive skin I saw before. It’s magnetic, but I can see through it. I wear my silence like it’s a wall but, Roxie, she transforms.
She puts armor on to push people away or adjusts it to get what she needs.
Roxie’s fake smile irks me, but I know she’s just trying to feel strong again.
“Oh god, you’re in on this too now?” she jokes, subtly shifting from under his arm while stepping minutely closer towards me.
I tell my heart not to look too deep into it.
“Sure am, Rox. I saw how he handled losing you before, I’m not going to let that happen again,” Asher says the words with a light tone, one meant for teasing, but when he looks at me, I know he’s being serious. Protective. Worried.
Roxie’s eyes meet mine, regret flashing in those golden-rimmed brown eyes before she takes a deep breath and sits back down on the couch like her body couldn’t keep her up.
“Are you okay?” I kneel next to her, holding her hand gently in mine.
“I’m just so tired,” she whispers brokenly.
“I know, I know, carino.” My hand ghosts over her injured one. “Let me help you lay down, and we’ll figure it all out later.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Asher says easily, like he already has everything figured out.
“You’re staying here. You can work at the shop if you want, or do what you want to do.
But right now,” Asher looks at me, taking over and laying the plan out so I can be the one to nudge her into it while he fucking threw her over the side.
“Right now, you’re staying here. Ty will stay out here with you, and I’ll go triple lock the door.
Nothing is happening tonight, just rest. We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow. ”
“Asher,” Roxie starts to say and I put my hand gently on her knee.
“Just tonight, Roxie.”
She looks at me, torn and nervous, but I can see it in the way her eyelids droop that she’s already halfway to agreeing.
“I’ll guard the door, I promise,” I say earnestly, hoping that it brings even a little relief to her. A small safety.
“If I stay…” she says softly, eyelids closing as she looks from me to Asher then back again. “I’m telling you now, you’re inviting trouble into your home.”
Asher looks at me, those blue eyes saying to me ‘bring it on’, and I turn to Roxie, a powerful, feral smirk crossing my face.
“I love trouble.”
Forty-five minutes later and Roxie’s snoring so loudly it’s like we’re cutting down trees in here. She’s adorable, but holy hell.
I sit at the little beat-up kitchen table, absentmindedly running my thumb over my bottom lip as I watch her asleep on the couch. Her chest rises and falls, but it’s unsteady. Almost on edge. It’s like her body doesn’t know if it should give in to the comfort, if it’s a trick.
Her words run through my mind, ‘I did it for you!’
Six years… For six years I thought she’d forgotten me.
I thought I wasn’t worth remembering. For six years, I would try to move on only to be immediately turned off the moment I saw a shortie with black hair or a girl wearing fishnets and combat boots.
I didn’t save myself, but I was always, always, trying to push her from my mind.
Liquor and weed help with that a lot.
Six years I did that stupid fucking shit, and she was hurting. She was alone, she was being fucking used and hurt, and I was out. Picking up girls with Asher because I was trying to get over her.
What kind of asshole am I? Newsflash, the worst fucking kind.
Asher snaps his fingers in front of my eyes and I jolt.
“What?”
“If you stare at her any harder, she might combust,” Asher chuckles, but I don’t follow suit. His smile drops.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking at her, around her to make sure no one had gotten in without him knowing.
“I’m such a fucking idiot. This whole time.
This whole fucking time I thought she was out there having chosen to forget me…
” My throat gets tight as the regret and guilt eat at me.
“But she gave… She actually… God-fucking-damn it.” The anger that builds in my chest is enough to have me push the table and storm out of the room, but that would mean I’d be away from her.
For even a moment. Yeah, that’s not happening.
So, I sit there, stewing in my own emotional turmoil, keeping eyes on her and her alone.
Never again is she going to wonder if she’s safe.
Never again is she going to feel like she has to watch over her shoulder.
I’ll take all that on.
For her.
“Woah, man,” Asher says, coming to sit next to me. “One thing at a time. What happened?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, the one that burns and tells me to go beg her for her forgiveness.
“I don’t know the whole story. You came in pouting like a damn toddler before she could tell me.” Asher looks sheepishly at me, mouthing ‘sorry’, before letting me continue. “She–get the fuck out of this–she was housed with the Franks. As in Mickey fucking Frank.”
Asher’s expression turns solid, like everything just shifted. Because it did.
“Mickey Frank. The guy who wants you dead? The one who’s had a hard-on for you since you knocked his fighter out and embarrassed him nearly a decade ago after a fight he started? The guy who keeps trying to trap you so he is able to use you to throw fights? That Mickey Frank?”
I nod solemnly, eyes going back to Roxie sleeping.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “This is going to get messy, isn’t it?”
“Hell yes, it’s going to get messy. It’s going to get deadly.” I already have my mind made up. I know what needs to happen, but I need to hear what actually happened to her. I need to know how much I need to make him hurt. “You’re on board?”
Asher nods once.
“So fucking on board.”
“Good,” I say simply and lean forward on my elbows again, hands folded under my chin.
“She went to live with the Franks, who are fucking morons and let their abusive son run the house. And, in turn, he ran her.” My chest tightens with that anger and frustration from before.
“She didn’t… She wasn’t able to check her email.
She didn’t have a phone, a computer. She didn’t have that.
And she fucking went behind their backs, saving what money she had to check her email.
Only to pull the biggest fucking martyr move I’ve ever heard in my life.
And you’ve pulled some pretty marty-ish shit, Asher. ”
“She knew you emailed her?” Asher’s eyebrows narrow as he tries to figure out why I’m not mad. Why I’m not upset when that’s all I would talk about. Give me a beer and it was, “Why couldn’t she just tell me she wasn’t going to call? Why can’t she just email to let me know she’s alive?”
Not anymore.
“She did. And she chose not to email back because she wanted me to be able to move on. She didn’t think she’d be able to bring anything to my life and so she forcibly gave me an out.”
Asher sits back abruptly like he’s been shot.
“No shit.”
“No shit.” I nod.
“Wow,” Asher says, looking impressed and upset for me.
“Yeah.” I drop my head and run my hands over the back of my head.
“You didn’t know, Ty,” he says softly.
“I know. I know I didn’t. But, Asher, she was hurting. Starving. Scared. And I was sitting here, feeling sorry for myself and hooking up with blonde chicks to try to get over her.”
Putting words to the guilt I’m feeling makes it burn hotter.
My fists clench tightly on the table. “She was drowning, Asher.”
His hand lands on my shoulder, holding me steadily.
“Listen to me Ty,” Asher says strongly, but quietly as to not wake up Roxie. “You can’t take that on. You didn’t know. I didn’t know. That was her choice, and she did what she thought she had to, to save you.”
“She shouldn’t have fucking had to!” I snap quietly, but viciously. Roxie’s breathing hitches, I can hear it from here and I stop. Both Asher and I stop, waiting for her to fall fitfully back to sleep before resuming.
“You were fifteen,” he whispers harshly, trying to give me some kind of an excuse to hold onto while I spiral.
My eyes lock onto his and I’m not flinching. “So were you.”
His jaw clenches and he breathes through his anger. And I get why he’s mad. I brought up shit I shouldn’t have. Asher had to make a choice at fifteen, one that will forever haunt him, no matter what I say.
“Low fucking blow, Terecino. But I get it.” He crosses his arms over his chest in annoyance, and I let the whole ‘Terecino’ slide. I did start it.
“You get it.”
He sighs deeply, shaking his head. “I do. So what are we going to do? Mickey’s already fucking jonesing to get you in the ring, or kill you if you step out of line again.”