Chapter 13
Tiernan
Walking back into the gym feels different somehow. Maybe it’s Arlo standing straighter, looking the guys in the eye and not shying away. This place has always been home to me, but I’m realizing I’m not the only one. It’s home for my boys, too, and that’s hitting differently today.
“I’ve got some stuff to finish.” Arlo says before he gives me a lingering kiss. He’s smiling as he walks away,
“We’re picking up strays on the regular, then?” Tank asks.
I turn to meet his eyes, steel in my gaze.
“Fine.” He throws his hands up and backs away. “I thought getting laid would make you less grumpy. Jeez!”
“Tank!” Diesel yells.
“I know. I know. Shut it.” Tank rolls his eyes as he saunters off.
Glancing around the gym, I spot the guy from outside standing next to the break room.
He looks uneasy but determined. Black, wavy hair, slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it.
Large, expressive eyes, green ringed with gold, startling against the angles of his tan skin.
He’s carrying a careworn messenger bag, half-hidden behind him and clutching the strap tight.
I’m heading in his direction, but Diesel’s already there. Probably to offer him food. I chuckle to myself. I’ll talk to him after he’s eaten. Diesel’s guiding him toward the break room.
I do my rounds, checking in with Saint, who’s doing some weight training.
“You good?” he asks, glancing at the back door
“Yup. Never better.”
He nods.
“The kid’s the one who sent us out there. Came in here telling us you needed back up.” Saint gives me one of his rare smiles. “Should have known you’d have it under control.”
“Good to know. Appreciate the backup though.”
“We got you,” he says as we bump fists.
Suerte is working on his hands with his trainer. I take a minute to observe. He’s come a long way from the amateur I met just a couple of years ago. He’s a natural.
They take a break, and I wave him over.
“Drop your elbow. You’re telegraphing.”
“Got it.” His dark eyes flash, and his tone is terse and annoyed. That’s Suerte, always goes hard on himself. Even when he doesn’t need to.
After I check in with all my guys in the main gym, I head to the break room. I didn’t see Tank out there, so he’s either eating or entertaining our new stray. Likely both.
I pop my head in the door, and sure enough, Tank’s sitting there, only for once he’s not talking. I quirk an eyebrow, wondering how Diesel got him to shut up.
“That’s some fantastic work, Micah.” Ah, the stray has a name. Diesel’s looking at something on his phone, and Micah looks as if he might smile, but holds it back.
“What’s going on?” That probably comes out too gruff, and Micah’s face falls. Damn.
“Boss, check out Micah’s skills. He did this all on a computer.”
He hands me the phone. It’s an advertisement for a local business. It’s very professional and the graphics are stunning.
“You do this?” I ask Micah. Fear flashes through his eyes before he squares his shoulders.
“Yes. I did, sir.” He answers quietly but firmly.
“Sir?” Tank asks with heavy sarcasm.
Diesel smacks his arm, and I stare him down.
“You guys have no sense of humor. None. So boring.” He mutters before he goes back to his meal.
“I’m not a “sir” kind of guy. Just call me Tiernan.” I reach my hand out with a sigh. Micah’s hesitant at first, then he gets that determined look again, shaking it firmly.
“Micah. Nice to meet you.”
“Could use some help with my social media and stuff. You know how to do that?”
“Yes, I do it for some of my clients.”
“Cool. Come see me tomorrow morning. ‘Bout 10:30. We’ll talk.”
“I can make that work.” Micah says, looking pleased, ears pink. I glance over at Diesel. He’s staring at Micah with a look of definite interest.
***
Micah has left, much to Diesel’s dismay, which I find amusing. Diesel finally heads out, but I fully expect to see him around 10:30 tomorrow morning. I have a feeling I’ll see Micah as well.
Arlo heads out the door and toward my truck, carrying a box. Knowing we’re going home together is the best kind of end to my day. I can’t wait to spend a lifetime doing just that. He might not know it yet, but he’s mine. And I’m not letting him go. Ever.
By the time we get the gym closed up, we’ve loaded the truck, and we’re on our way home. It feels like it’s been forever since this morning. So much has happened.
It’s a quiet ride, and I can tell the day is weighing on him.
We pull into the driveway, and I park the truck.
Reaching for his hand, we don’t get out, we just sit.
It’s dark and intimate in the small cab of the truck.
As if we’re the only two people in the world.
Something about the way he’s sitting, so still and tense, tells me he’s not ready to go into the house yet.
“I should have left him sooner.” Arlo says into the dark after a minute.
He pauses for a moment. I can tell he’s processing. When he’s ready, he continues.
“I don’t know why I thought it would get better? Everyone knows it just gets worse. And yet I just kept hoping we could somehow go back to the beginning when we loved each other.”
I squeeze his hand.
“But looking back, I don’t think it was love. I was so young. So naive.” He shakes his head as if to dismiss old memories.
“People always ask “Why didn’t you leave sooner?” and I wish I could tell them the reason without sounding like a coward.”
“You’re not a coward, ‘Lo.” I tell him, emotion making my voice low and rough.
He gives me a wan smile.
“It might take me a minute to believe that, Tier, but thanks. No, the truth of it is that I was scared. I let him put me into a place where I had no job, no education, nothing of my own. And then I was too afraid to leave.”
His voice wobbles at that last bit, but I hold tight to his hand.
“But you did leave.”
He presses against my hand.
“I did. But I let it get really bad first. Really bad.” He hangs his head a bit. “I feel like such a fool for waiting.” The last is said so quietly, and with such shame, my chest aches with the weight of it.
“Anyway, enough depressing shit for tonight,” he says suddenly with false cheer and an even faker smile.
“Don’t do that,” I say.
He looks puzzled.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t minimize yourself like that.”
Arlo says nothing, just looks down into the darkness, the moon shining down on his lap through the car window.
I twist in my seat before I reach for him. Fingers under his jaw, I lift his head so he’s looking directly at me again.
“You’re not a fool. You’re a survivor. Sometimes we do whatever it takes to get to the other side, ‘Lo. And there’s no shame in that. It takes an incredible amount of courage to do what you did. I don’t intend to let you forget that.”
We hold each other’s gaze, his eyes bright with everything he’s been afraid to feel. I pour every ounce of love and respect I can into it because he needs to see that for me, he’s everything.
“Let’s go inside and I’ll get us some dinner. You can unpack.”
He smiles, a small one, but it’s there.
“I’d like that,” is his soft reply.