Chapter 23
“How’s Sunday?” I asked as I put the dishes into the dishwasher.
“For what?” He snapped the container of leftovers closed and stuck it into the fridge.
“For dinner at Willa and Duke’s?”
He let out a sigh. “You won’t let it go, will you?”
“No. They’re important to you. Therefore, they’re going to be important to me. So, let’s just go and have fun and not make such a big deal about it.”
“But it is a big deal. You’re a big deal.”
I grinned.
He took my left hand and brought my knuckles to his lips. His thumb skated over my pinky. Once . . . then twice. Savage paused and then gently forced my fingers to straighten. Except the pinky finger was slightly bent and raised in one spot.
“What happened to your finger?”
My heart skidded through my chest. “I broke it.”
He frowned. “How? I know broken fingers. This looks . . . the scar . . .”
He met my gaze. Steady. Waiting. Unrelenting.
“It was a meat tenderizer,” I said quietly. “For burning his dinner, the first year we were married.”
He hauled me close and caged me within his embrace. I coiled myself around him and buried my nose in his shirt.
“That wasn’t the only time he was physical. Was it?”
“No.”
“Fuck, Evie. Did your family know?”
“My parents died when I was eighteen. I was already married to him. There was no one I could . . . anyway it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead and I’m with you.”
“God, I had no idea.”
“Why would you? I didn’t say anything about it.”
“Yeah, but—it makes sense now. Why you didn’t want to go home with me that first night.”
I smiled against his chest. “That had more to do with not wanting to be another notch on your bedpost.”
He gently ran his fingers through my hair, his grip tightening ever so slightly and gently easing my neck back, so I had to look at him. “I’m a fighter. You saw me in the ring and then you saw me beat the shit out of that guy who grabbed your wrist. I can’t believe that didn’t turn you off.”
I licked my lips. “You covered my body with yours when we heard the gunshots. It was instantaneous—like you didn’t even have to think about protecting me. You just did. I know violence at the hand of a man. And I know you’d never raise your hands against me.”
“Have I ever scared you?”
I thought about his question for a moment, searching my memory for a time that I was afraid of Savage. “When you ran out of the warehouse after me. You came toward me and your hands were clenched. I remember taking a step back, and when I did you immediately stopped in your tracks. Afraid isn’t the right word . . . but my past . . .”
“What about when we were at Spurs, and I almost got into a fight, and you stepped between me and Ox?”
“No, I wasn’t afraid.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured. “I was in the red zone.”
“And yet, I was able to call you back. You’re intense, Savage. But even so, I know you’d never hurt me.”
His eyes glittered with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry, Evie. I’m so sorry your husband hurt you.”
“I came here to start over because when he died, I was finally free. Free to meet you. Free to fall in love. The past can only hurt you if you let it. I don’t want to look behind me anymore. I want to look forward.”
He settled his hand on my belly. “Then let’s look forward together.”
An hour later, I was on the couch reading a baby book I’d found tucked into the bag of clothes Willa had brought me. Savage was pacing nonstop.
“What’s with you?” I asked.
“Sorry, babe,” he apologized even as he continued to pace. “I’ve got all this energy inside me. I’ve got to get it out.”
I flung the book aside and stood. “I can help with that.”
“No.”
I halted in my steps toward him. “No?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I need to fucking hit something. I’m angry, babe. I’m so damn angry and if I take you to bed, you’ll get that anger. And I won’t do that to you.”
My gaze softened and I nodded.
“I can’t stop thinking about what you told me about your husband,” he admitted, his voice low. “And the only thing I can think to do, is get in the ring and beat the shit out of someone.”
“But you said you quit.”
He shook his head. “I meant get in The Ring—at the gym the club owns and spar with another boxer.”
I took a deep breath. “I see.”
Savage came to me and dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist. He placed his cheek against my shirt.
My hands sifted through his hair. “Do what you have to do, Savage.”
He looked up at me, his expression slashed with awe. “You really understand me, don’t you?”
I ran my thumb across his mouth. “You are who you are. And I love you. If you need to box to quiet your mind, then who am I to tell you no?”
He pressed a kiss to my stomach.
My phone chimed from the counter.
“Who could be texting me?” I asked in confusion. “No one texts me.”
“Look and see,” he suggested.
I stood and walked to the counter and peered at my screen. “It’s Brielle. She’s asking if I want to come over and hang out with her and Jazz.”
“Nice.”
“Tonight,” I clarified.
“You should go,” he said. “Don’t just sit here stewing while I’m at The Ring.”
“Good idea,” I said, shooting off a reply text.
“I’ll drive you over there. And pick you up when I’m done. I shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Acid’ll go hard.”
“Acid? That’s who you’ll be boxing with?”
“Yeah. He’s skilled. He keeps pace with me. I’ll be fucking wrecked when I’m done. And I’ll be able to sleep.” He kissed my forehead. “Get your purse. Let’s go.”
Two dogs greeted me the moment Brielle opened the door.
“Oops, sorry. I forgot to warn you.” Brielle scooped up the white scraggle-muffin of a dog and then shooed the other, bigger one, back from the door.
“Don’t worry about it. I love dogs.” I came into the open floor plan loft and held out my hand to the dog in Brielle’s arms. “Not as much as lambs, but I love dogs.”
“Lambs?” Jazz asked from the kitchen as she opened a bottle of wine.
I blinked, not realizing what just slipped out of me. “I grew up on a farm.”
“Ah,” Brielle said as she moved deeper into the living room. “No lambs here. You’ll have to settle for Fluffernutter and Cuddle Bug.” She set the small dog down. “That’s Fluffernutter. The big, sweet girl is Cuddle Bug.”
“And before you say anything, yes, we know how ridiculous the names are. You should hear us calling for them at the dog park,” Jazz said with a laugh.
“Oh, I can only imagine,” I said, chuckling. “Savage is going to The Ring to box with Acid. He’ll pick me up when he’s done. We’ve got about two hours for you to tell me everything that happened between you and Homer.”
Jazz poured two glasses of wine. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Water’s good.”
She nodded and went to the cabinet to get a glass.
Brielle grimaced as she walked to the counter to pick up a glass of wine and said, “I want to know too. But, like, a PG version. I don’t want to know about your aerobic activities with my brother. I’m happy for you and all, but there are some details I just do not need.”
“I had to reschedule all his appointments today,” I said. “So . . . you must’ve kept him occupied.”
Jazz filled a glass of water and then grabbed the other wine goblet and strode toward me. “Evie, take the couch. I’ll sit on the rug.”
I walked to the couch and plopped down on one end and the large dog immediately jumped up and crawled halfway into my lap and then laid down.
“She has no sense of personal space,” Brielle said with a grin as she took the other end of the couch.
“Clearly.” I rubbed her ears and she let out a big breath and burrowed deeper against my side.
“Okay.” Brielle took a drink of her wine. “Tell us all the things.”
“Well,” Jazz began. “I didn’t cancel my date.” She looked at Brielle. “Thanks for telling him that.”
Brielle raised her glass.
“Anyway, Homer was pissed. Like, livid . I’ve never seen him so mad.” Jazz grinned. “The date was the spark that pushed him over the edge. Finally . So, like the grumpy caveman he is, he dragged me back to his apartment and . . . well, ya know. We spent the night together.” She glanced at Brielle and then to me. “We, ah, didn’t do much talking, if you catch my drift.”
“I think we catch your drift,” I said with a laugh.
“We woke up and he cooked me breakfast. And then he asked me to move in with him.”
The room was silent.
“You said yes, didn’t you?” Brielle guessed.
“Actually, I punched him,” Jazz said.
I raised my brows. “You punched him?”
“Okay, maybe not punched. But I slapped him.”
“Why?” I asked in confusion.
“Because he’s made me wait for years for him and he had the audacity to skip all the steps in a relationship. He doesn’t get off that easy. Well, actually, he did get off?—”
“Focus,” Brielle interrupted.
“I told him I wanted to be wined and dined. Wooed. He doesn’t get to jump ahead just because he’s finally ready to be with me.”
“And that talk took all day?” I asked in confusion. “That’s why he had to cancel his appointments?”
She shook her head. “No. I left his apartment this morning. He lives in this building, by the way. I have no idea why he’d cancel his appointments. Do you know where he is?” Jazz looked at Brielle, who shook her head.
“I didn’t see his car in the lot when Savage dropped me off here,” I said. “He might be back by now, though.”
“I should go knock on his door,” Brielle said.
“No, don’t do that,” Jazz said. “Let him stew. Let him figure his shit out. I’ve got him right where I want him.”
“And where’s that?” I asked.
“Addicted to me.” Jazz grinned. “I gave him some Jazz-nip. He’ll be back for more.”