Chapter 9 - Bruiser
I watch until she disappears inside the building. Until I see a light flick on in what must be her apartment—third floor, just like she said.
I'm exhausted. Two fights in one night. Riot in the pit, then those five drunk assholes, and now this. My body's screaming at me, every muscle aching, knuckles throbbing. But it was worth it. Every fucking second was worth it.
Joanna's worth it.
I can still smell her on me. Strawberries and sex. I can still feel her body wrapped around mine, the way she'd ridden me like she was claiming me. The sounds she'd made. The way she'd begged me to cum inside her.
Fuck.
My cock twitches at the memory and I adjust myself in my jeans. Not now. Later. I'll deal with that later when I'm alone and can properly replay every second of what just happened.
I text Rampage: *Need a ride. Still at Joanna's place.*
His response comes less than a minute later: *Be there in 10.*
I lean my head back and close my eyes. Try to process everything. The way she'd looked at me when I told her about prison. Not with horror or disgust but with understanding. The way she'd defended what I did. Called the justice system fucked up for punishing me.
The way she'd touched me like I was something worth wanting.
I'm going to work so fucking hard to be the man she needs. The man she deserves. If she wants a stepdad for Daisy, I'll be that. If she wants someone to protect them, provide for them, be there for them, I'll be that too. Whatever she needs. Whatever they need.
Anything for her. Anything for her daughter.
The thought of Daisy makes something in my chest tighten. A three-year-old kid who needs stability and safety and someone who won't run when things get hard.
I can be that. I will be that.
Headlights sweep across the car. Rampage's truck pulls up behind Joanna's sedan and I walk toward him, my body still aching.
"Long night?" Rampage is smirking as he asks.
I settle into the passenger seat of his truck. "You could say that."
He pulls away from the curb, heading back toward the warehouse. "Want to talk about it?"
I should say no. Should keep this private. But something about the events of tonight, the violence, the sex, the confessions, has cracked something open inside me.
"I'm deep in it," I say.
"With Joanna?"
"Yeah."
Rampage nods slowly. "She's a good woman. Good mother. You could do a lot worse."
"I know. That's the problem. She's too good for someone like me." I stare out the window at Blackwater Falls sliding past. "But I'm going to try anyway. Going to work my ass off to become the man she needs. Better man. Better person."
"You're not as bad as you think you are, Danny."
"I went to prison for ten years."
"For protecting your sister. That's not the same as being a piece of shit." He glances at me. "Look, I get it. But sometimes the broken pieces fit together in ways that make sense."
I turn to look at him. "You really think that?"
"I know that. I believe that the right woman will make me want to be better. She’ll make me want to control the rage instead of just channeling it into the pit. You feel that way about Joanna?"
"Yeah. I do."
"Then that's all that matters. The rest you figure out as you go." He pulls into the warehouse parking lot. "Just don't fuck it up."
"I'll try not to."
I climb out, grab my truck keys from where I'd left them earlier, and drive home. My small rented room feels even smaller tonight. Empty. Lonely.
But as I collapse into bed, my phone buzzes with a text.
**Joanna:** *I finally made it to bed. Had to take a shower before. Daisy's still asleep. Thank you for tonight. For everything.*
I stare at the message for a long moment before typing back: *Thank you for giving me a chance. Sleep well.*
**Joanna:** *You too. See you soon?*
*Yeah. Soon.*
I fall asleep with my phone in my hand and a smile on my face.
One month later
"You're pacing."
"I'm not pacing."
"Danny, you're literally wearing a path in my carpet right now."
I stop mid-stride and look at Erin. She's sitting on her couch, seven months pregnant with her third kid, trying not to laugh at me. Failing.
"I'm nervous," I admit.
"I can see that. You've been nervous for three days."
Three days. That's how long I've known about today. About meeting Daisy. Joanna had asked me a week after we made it official, after I'd asked her to be my girlfriend and she'd said yes and we'd celebrated by fucking twice that day, once in her car again and once in my room.
I called Erin that night. Told her everything. From the moment I first saw Joanna cleaning the pit to walking her to her car to the storage room to the fight to the sex to asking her to be mine. All of it.
Erin had cried. Happy tears, she'd insisted. Told me I deserved this. Deserved happiness and love and someone who saw past the violence to the man underneath.
I still don't know if I believe that. But I'm trying.
This past month with Joanna has been... everything.
We've gone out when we can. Mostly late at night after work, quick dinners or drives or just sitting in one of our cars talking for hours.
She's told me about her ex, about Daisy, about her dreams for the bakery.
I've told her about prison, about learning to fight, about my sister and her kids.
We've fucked in my room, in her car, once in the storage room at the warehouse after everyone left. Can't keep our hands off each other.
But this is different. This is meeting her daughter. The most important person in Joanna's life. The person I need to prove myself to even more than Joanna herself.
"What if she doesn't like me?" I ask Erin.
"She's three, Danny. She likes everyone."
"What if I'm too big? Too scary?"
"Then you make yourself smaller. You know how to do that." Erin struggles to her feet, waddles over to me. "You're going to be great. You're good with kids. My two love you."
"They're seven and five. They can handle me. Daisy's three."
"And she's going to love you because you're going to be gentle and patient and exactly what she needs." Erin puts her hand on my arm. "You've got this. I promise."
I want to believe her. Want to believe I can do this. That I can walk into Joanna's apartment and meet this little girl and not somehow fuck it up.
My phone buzzes.
**Joanna:** *We're ready when you are. No pressure though. Take your time.*
I take a deep breath. Look at Erin.
"Go," she says. "And text me after. I want to know everything."
"I will."
I hug her slowly. She's so pregnant now she can barely reach around me.
The drive to Joanna's apartment feels both too long and too short. I've been here dozens of times this past month, but always late at night. Always after Daisy's asleep. This is different. This is daylight. This is real.
I park in the same spot I always do and stare up at her building. Third floor. Unit 3C.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I climb the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time I reach her door, my heart's racing and my palms are sweating.
I knock.
Footsteps. The door opens.
Joanna's there, smiling, beautiful in jeans and a pink sweater. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Come in. She's excited to meet you."
I step inside. The apartment's small but warm. Cozy. There's a little kitchen to the left, a living area straight ahead with a couch and TV. Toys scattered everywhere. Pictures on the walls. Mostly of Daisy at various ages.
And there, standing next to the couch, is a tiny girl with dark blonde hair in pigtails and big blue eyes.
Daisy.
She's holding a stuffed rabbit and staring at me with the kind of open curiosity only children have.
"Daisy," Joanna says gently, "this is Danny."
"You're really big," Daisy says.
I can't help it. I smile. "Yeah, I am."
"Why?"
"Just grew that way, I guess."
She considers this. Then: "Do you like cookies?"
"I love cookies."
"Mama makes the best cookies." She looks up at Joanna. "Can we make cookies for Danny?"
Joanna laughs, and the sound fills the apartment with warmth. "Maybe later, sweetheart. Why don't you show Danny your rabbit first?"
Daisy walks over to me. No fear, no hesitation, and holds up the stuffed animal. "This is Mr. Flopsy. He's my best friend."
I crouch down so I'm closer to Daisy's level. Even like this, I'm still bigger than her. She barely comes up to my shoulder, but it's better than looming over her like some kind of giant.
"This is Mr. Flopsy," she says again, holding the rabbit up higher. "He's my best friend. He goes everywhere with me."
"He looks like a very good friend," I say. My voice sounds too loud, even to my own ears. I try to soften it. "Does he have a favorite food?"
Daisy's eyes light up. "Carrots! Because he's a bunny."
"That makes sense. Bunnies love carrots."
"Do you like carrots?"
"I do. But I like cookies better."
She giggles again, and the sound does something to my chest. Makes it feel tight and warm at the same time.
"Me too," she whispers, like it's a secret. Then louder: "Mama makes the best cookies in the whole world. Chocolate chip and sugar cookies and sometimes oatmeal raisin but I don't like those as much."
"Oatmeal raisin are tricky," I agree. "Sometimes the raisins look like chocolate chips and then you bite into them and it's a surprise."
"A bad surprise," Daisy says solemnly.
"The worst kind of surprise."
She nods, satisfied that I understand this fundamental truth about cookies. Then she tilts her head, staring at me with those big blue eyes.
"You're Mama's boyfriend, right?"
The question catches me off guard. I glance up at Joanna, who's trying not to smile. She must have explained it to Daisy before I got here.
"Yeah," I say. "Is that okay with you?"
Daisy considers this very seriously. "Does that mean you're nice to Mama?"
"Very nice. I try to be as nice as I can."
"And you don't make her sad?"
This three-year-old is asking the questions that matter. Protecting her mother the only way she knows how.