Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
CHARLOTTE
It was another beautiful day as I sat out on Dalton’s back deck. The gentle breeze kissed my cheeks and lifted my hair, making the leaves dance and rustle. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and still, I was miserable. Even the gorgeous views all around me couldn’t break through my sour mood.
I’d been here for a week now, under house arrest and constantly guarded. It was enough to drive anyone out of their minds, but that wasn’t the main reason for my melancholy. The holder of that coveted spot was none other than Dalton himself.
To say the past seven days had been strained would have been putting it mildly.
I wasn’t sure if he was staying away just because he was busy or if he was avoiding me, but even though we were living under the same roof—and sleeping in the same freaking bed, since one of his spare rooms was an office space and the other was full of junk—I hardly ever saw him.
He’d been waking up before the sun most mornings, leaving for work before I got up, and stayed gone so late into the night that, if my already-terrible sleep hadn’t gotten even worse over this past week, causing me to wake up nearly every hour at night, I probably wouldn’t have even known if or when he came home.
We’d hardly spoken a handful of words to each other in the past week, and my heart was starting to hurt even more than my body.
“You know, I think I’d be able to handle house arrest just fine with a view like this.”
Alma’s voice pulled me from my morose musings and back to the present.
Earlier that day, Alma, McKenna, Sloane, and Layla had shown up for a Whiskey Dolls get-together.
As much as I’d been missing my friends recently, I was having a big problem keeping that fake smile in place while I played hostess.
“Yeah, it’s really beautiful out here,” I mumbled noncommittally. “And really peaceful. I spend a lot of my time out here.”
“Well, yeah . . . that too. But I was actually talking about that huge slice of beefcake inside.”
I followed Alma’s appreciative gaze through the huge picture windows to where Trent was sitting at the kitchen island, doing something on his laptop.
Out of all the guys on Charlotte duty, Trent was the one I’d probably gotten to know best. While it was obvious Dalton was tight with all the men he worked with, I got the impression that he was closest with Trent, and I had a feeling that was why he was here more than the other guys who were forced to play babysitter.
“Do you know if he’s single?”
For the first time in several long, monotonous days, I felt my lips quirk into a smile. “Aren’t you seeing someone already?” I asked with a chuckle, feeling only a small twinge in my ribs.
“Yeah,” Layla jumped in. “What was he? An accountant or something?”
“No, that was like, two boyfriends ago,” Sloane corrected. “I think this dude was a doctor or something?”
“It was something with a P. Pediatrician, maybe?” McKenna guessed. When it came to Alma’s crazy long string of men, it was really hard to keep up.
“Podiatrist,” Alma corrected. “And that’s over.”
“Another one bites the dust,” I teased, earning laughs from the rest of the girls.
Like the rest of the Whiskey Dolls, Alma was one of my favorite people, and how she tended to go through men like water provided us all with endless entertainment.
She had the attention span of a toddler strung out on sugar, picking them up and scraping them off whenever she got bored, which was usually around the two-to-three-week mark.
As far as I was concerned, if men could do it without anyone batting an eye, so could she.
“You got that right, honey. I’m on the hunt to find someone to help me mend this broken heart, and I’m looking to bag me that fine beefcake in there.”
“How about, just for the sake of safety and whatnot, we consider any and all of Charlotte’s bodyguards off-limits? At least for the time being.”
Alma’s bottom lip stuck out in a dramatic pout as she turned away from the window to face our little huddle once again. “Fine,” she grumbled. “But he’s fair game once this situation is under control.”
I gave my friend the first genuine smile I’d had in days. “Deal.”
My girls hung around for a bit longer, and as much as I loved seeing them and appreciated the fact that they took time out of their schedules to come see me, there was a part of me that felt a little relieved when they left.
Trying to pretend to be happy, make like everything was great in my world when it was so far from it, was exhausting.
I got gentle hugs and cheek kisses goodbye, and as soon as I closed the door behind them, I let that mask slip back into place.
Trent was eyeing me carefully as I shuffled past the kitchen. “Everything good?”
“Yeah?” I said with a plastic grin that didn’t reach my eyes. “Just kind of worn out. Think I’m gonna take a nap.”
He jerked his chin up in acknowledgment. “All right. I’ll be here. Go get some rest.
My lack of sleep must have caught up with me because, by the time I woke from my nap, the room was dark and the sky outside was freckled with stars.
My stomach let out an unhappy rumble at being empty, and when I pushed myself up to sitting, I turned to look at the alarm clock, seeing it was already a few minutes past eight.
Scooting off the bed, I moved out of the room and down the hall toward the sound of the television playing in the living room, hoping Dalton was home.
I’d made a decision hours earlier as I tossed and turned, trying desperately to shut my brain off.
If I had to deal with the silence between us for one more day, I was going to lose my shit completely.
I couldn’t take it anymore, so I’d told myself that, as soon as he got home, we were going to sit down and talk this out once and for all, no matter where that conversation inevitably led.
My heart sank the minute I rounded the corner and spotted Trent sitting on the couch.
He lifted the remote and pointed it at the TV as soon as he saw me, pausing whatever show he’d been watching. “Hey, Charlotte. Sleep good?”
I folded my arms over my chest, holding myself in a protective stance, trying to keep my heart from hammering out of my chest. “Not particularly. Do you know when Dalton’s going to be home?”
“Uh, no.” His gaze darted back to the TV like he couldn’t bring himself to maintain eye contact. “He called earlier, said he’d be working late.”
“How late?”
“Didn’t say,” Trent replied to the image frozen on the screen.
I felt my insides heat, pressure building in my chest as I started to get angry. “Do you know where he is? Is he working on a case?”
“Um, I’m not sure. I guess so.”
I uncrossed my arms, slamming my hands on my hips and arching a brow. “You guess so? Don’t you guys work together?”
Trent wiped his palms on his jeans and pushed off the couch. “I’m hungry. You hungry? I’ll go see what’s stocked and rustle somethin’ up.”
He darted into the kitchen in an effort to avoid my interrogation, so I moved back to the bedroom where my phone was charging on the nightstand.
Snatching it up, I went to my text screen and typed in rapid-fire.
Me: Any clue how late you’re working tonight? I’d like to talk.
Those three tiny dots appeared beneath my message, flashing as Dalton typed something out on the other end, and when his text finally came through, it felt like someone had just shoved their fist through my chest and was squeezing my heart.
Dalton: Late. Don’t wait up.
He hadn’t even acknowledged my request to talk. God, I felt that burn in the back of my eyes that had been there for days now, warning me I was on a razor-fine edge, teetering close to a full-blown sob-fest.
Instead of crying, I decided to hold onto my annoyance and shoved the phone in the back pocket of the shorts I’d been wearing before storming into the kitchen.
“Where is he?” I demanded, slapping my hands down on the island.
“I told you. He’s—”
I narrowed my eyes into angry slits and pointed an accusatory finger at him.
“If you say he’s working one more time, I’m going to slip something in your drink when you least expect it, and when you’ve passed out, I’m going to shave notches into your eyebrows.
So think long and hard before you answer this question: Do you know where he is. ”
Trent actually looked a bit frightened as he reached up to run a finger over his thick, perfectly-arched brow. “All right, yes,” he relented unhappily. “I know where he is, okay?”
I raised my chin haughtily. “Perfect. Take me to him.”
Giving him no other choice but to follow, I stormed to the front door and threw it open, biting back my smile at the string of mumbled curses coming from Trent as he caved to my threat.
My eyes rounded in bewilderment as I leaned forward to get a better look at the dilapidated warehouse Trent had just parked in front of. The place looked like it should have been abandoned a good thirty years ago, but for some reason, the dirt lot surrounding the building was packed with cars.
“What the hell is this place?” I breathed out as Trent killed the engine and pushed his door open.
“You’re about to find out. Let’s go. And while we’re in there, you don’t leave my side. Got it?”
A bolt of panic licked up my spine, but I forced it down, determined to see this through.
The closer we got to the building, the louder the noises from inside got until they became a deafening roar as soon as we pushed inside.
“Remember,” Trent shouted, looking back over his shoulder, “stay close.”
I nodded, my wide eyes darting all over the place as I reached out and latched onto his arm so I couldn’t lose him.
He led me deeper and deeper into the fray until we were pushing through a thick curtain of people all standing in a giant circle. In the middle were two men, neither of them wearing shirts or shoes, both glistening with sweat as they circled each other, fists raised.
The man facing me threw a punch that collided with the face of the man whose back was to me, and as soon as his head whipped around from the blow, I sucked in a startled gasp.
“What the hell?” I yelped, darting forward, trying to get to Dalton just as the other man kicked, his foot slamming into Dalton’s ribs.
“Can’t do that, short stuff,” Trent said into my ear as he hooked an arm around my middle and pulled me back. “Bad enough I brought you here. You jump in the middle of his fight, he’d take my head off for sure.”
“Trent, you have to stop him!” I cried frantically, struggling against his hold as the bastard fighting Dalton hit him hard enough, blood sprayed from his mouth. “He’s getting hurt!”
“Not hurt, darlin’. Just watch.”
I wasn’t sure I could. Seeing Dalton getting beat up was torture. The other guy matched him in height but was nowhere near as big. I knew Dalton was strong. I knew he’d been trained to fight, so I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening.
“Why’s he doing this?” I sniffled, my vision growing blurry with tears. “Why isn’t he fighting back?”
“Purse is bigger if he puts on a show,” Trent answered. “Dalton’s the best fighter here, hands down, but these people wanna be entertained. He can’t just knock a guy out with one punch. Not if he wants to clean up.”
My spine shot straight and my head whipped around. “Wait. Dalton fights for money?”
He lifted a shoulder and cocked his head to the side. “Not really. The money’s just a bonus.”
“Then why?” I asked over the shouts of the crowd.
Trent looked me right in the eye, and I got a feeling he was pleading with me to understand. “Man like him, he needs this, Charlotte. Sometimes, when things get hard, you need a way to work all that anger out so you don’t lose it on the people you care about. This is his way.”
I couldn’t say I didn’t understand. But that didn’t mean I had to like it. “But isn’t it dangerous?”
He actually smiled at me then. “Nah, not for him. You know as well as anyone, that man’s got a skull thicker than most.” His attention turned back to the fight. “Now watch.”
I turned back just in time to see Dalton was done putting a show on for the crowd. He dodged the next two hits with ease before letting loose on his opponent.
In less than thirty seconds, the fight was over. The other guy was lying on the filthy ground at Dalton’s feet, struggling to get up, and the crowd had gone insane.
“Come on, we gotta go. He sees you, he’s likely to lose his mind.” Trent said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back the way we came. I didn’t bother arguing or try to stop him. I was too busy trying to wrap my head around what I’d seen and how I was feeling.
I remained silent the whole drive back to Dalton’s house, unable to piece a single sentence together through the thoughts swirling around in my mind.
I managed a small goodnight before heading down the hall and closing myself in the bedroom. I moved on autopilot, changing into my sleep clothes, but before I climbed into bed, I grabbed the first aid kit I’d seen under the bathroom sink and brought it with me.
I fell asleep that night replaying what Trent had said over and over in my head.
If fighting was what he needed to do to work out his demons, who in the world was I to judge?
I tried to stave mine off by refusing to talk about them and pretending they didn’t exist. At least he had a method. All I had was denial and secrets.
He was gone the next morning before I’d woken up, but when I looked over to the bedside table, the first aid kit was no longer there. In its place was a note in Dalton’s long, slanted handwriting.
Thanks, it read.
It wasn’t much, but I guess it was better than nothing.