Chapter 43
forty-three
DARE
It’s been a little over a week since I last saw Rose. Our fight plays over and over in my mind. It haunts my nights, lingers at the edges of my mind when I should be focusing on work. Every meal I take alone reminds me of Rose. The way her nose would wrinkle when she laughed. Every time I climb into bed and roll over to stare at her side, loneliness burrows into me. Not having her around tears me up inside, but it has to be this way.
My fist connects with Crue’s gut, and he grunts, bowling over as the air whooshes out of him. I retreat to my side of the boxing ring and wait for him to recover. Crue’s black hair hangs in his face as he side-eyes me.
“Fuck.” He groans and straightens.
The only woman I’ve ever loved was never mine. I thought I could hold her in my grasp, but holding on to Rose was like trying to cup water in my hands. There are too many cracks and crevices. Too many means of escape.
“Who pissed you off?” he asks .
“No one.”
Crue rubs his arm over his forehead. “Bullshit.”
I forgot I had a family to keep safe. I thought by making her leave, I could salvage the wreckage, claw my way back to the man I was before I met her, the unfeeling Beast of NYC. But she took the remnants of my tattered soul with her when she left, leaving nothing but cold fury behind.
He falls into his fighting stance, ready for more. “You’re wasting time,” he taunts.
Shaking my head, I take a breath, then head over. She’s taking over your thoughts again.
With my hands guarding my face, I look him over, searching for a weakness. His chest is heaving. His legs are set perfectly.
“What’s the matter, Dare? The wife not putting out?”
The muscles in my face tightening, I test a jab, but Crue slips away.
“Ah, so it is the wife.” His stupid grin makes me want to kick him in the nuts. Let him think what he wants.
He’s half right. Crue knows I have sisters. They’re safe and, aside from a few scrapes and bruises, they’re healthy. By now, Gregory’s already moved them to a new city and a new apartment. We agreed that we wouldn’t talk until Gregory was sure they were safe.
I haven’t talked to my sisters, and it’s eating me up inside.
But Crue doesn’t pry about my family. I think that’s part of why I like him. He doesn’t try to dig into the past. I probably never would have become friends with him if he asked too many questions.
Aside from Remy, Crue and Mace are the closest friends I have. Crue and Remy know me better than anyone else, but they can’t replace Rose .
We trade a few blows, both of us blocking and avoiding. We dance around each other, but we’ve fought together for so long, it’s hard to get an advantage.
“That’s what happens when you get married, baby. Shit gets real and your dick stays dry.”
For once, I wish I had a little bit of his playboy persona. I don’t feel proud that Rose is at her home. I don’t like that she was crying. I hate not knowing what she’s doing. That’s why I sent Remy to watch her, to see what her next move would be.
To my surprise, she didn’t run to Daddy right away.
She went to see Irene.
She had some visitors.
And she hasn’t left her house since.
Crue sighs. “Maybe I should pay her a visit.”
With a blink, I see red, but Crue keeps talking.
“That thick body in that little swimsuit?” He licks his lips and smirks. “That ass?”
I advance on him, my entire body tight with tension. I’m going to fucking kill him.
“Damn, dude, she was fine as fu?—”
My fist connects with his jaw, and his head whips to the side and he stumbles back before dropping onto his ass. It’s not enough. I want him limp on the ground. I want his jaw broken, so he can never say shit about Rose again. I’m on him in the next instant. He covers his face, so I punch his ribs over and over, not holding back.
The sound of my flesh hitting his isn’t enough.
He wants to fuck Rose? Over my dead body. I want the gasp of his last breath. I want his cock in a jar on my desk.
“Dare!” Crue yells.
“Hey, hey, hey!” someone shouts.
My fist hits Crue’s side one more time, and then someone is dragging me off him. I thrash and try to wrench out of the hold, but Bret, our trainer, is a strong motherfucker. Pulse pounding, body hot as adrenaline pumps through my veins, I go for Crue again.
“Calm down,” Bret gruffs, wrenching me back.
I grunt but suck in a breath, trying to steady my hammering heart.
Crue clutches his middle. “What the fuck, Dare?” He groans and barely manages to sit. I wouldn’t be surprised if his ribs are bruised. “I was joking!”
“It wasn’t funny,” I shoot back, finally giving up going for him, but Bret’s hold doesn’t loosen. He knows better after thirty years of owning his gym. Tensions run high in the ring. Sparring matches turn into full-fledged fights. The way I felt when Crue said he’d like to pay Rose a visit, though? I don’t know that I would have stopped if not for Bret.
“My ribs.” Crue winces.
Glaring at him, I don’t feel an ounce of regret. Even if we’re not together, Rose is mine. I don’t want him thinking about her, fantasizing about her, or even saying her name. “That’s what you get for talking shit.”
Bret huffs in annoyance. “I’m going to let you go, and then you’re going home, Richardson. You hear me?”
I don’t respond.
He tightens his hold, wrenching my arms to the point of pain. I clench my jaw to keep from crying out.
“Richardson. I said, do you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “I hear you.”
“Get your things and leave or you’re suspended. I’m not playing around.”
Pinching my eyes shut, I nod and clear my head. I’m so fucked up over this woman. I can’t have her around, because I’m scared of what might happen to my family, but I don’t want anyone else close to her. I don’t want anyone to see that first smile in the morning or to hear the way she laughs when she thinks no one is watching.
And I especially don’t want anyone else inside of her.
Bret releases me and pushes me away from Crue, who is still holding his ribs. He’s in pain. Probably needs a doctor. A shred of regret slices through me. We’re friends, but that’s about all the remorse I have. Crue is so used to doing whatever he wants.
But he can’t have my wife.
No one can.
Not even me.