CHAPTER FIVE
Kye
MY HEADLIGHTS SWUNG OVER HAVEN’S NEARLY EMPTY parking lot, illuminating the mural I’d painted on the outside wall of the building.
It blended a few different styles. The lettering was a nod to the role ink played in my life, while the creatures peeking out from behind the letters represented my hometown and nature’s role as a calming force.
And, of course, there were countless sparrows among it all.
I pulled into a spot near the door, taking stock of who I would find inside. Everyone here tonight had a key to the building—people I trusted to come and go as they pleased. I cared about all of them, but I honestly just wanted them to stay out of my way at the moment.
Climbing out of my truck, I headed to the front door, which was unlocked since my manager was still on the premises. As I stepped inside, I came face-to-face with her.
“What are you doing here?” Serena asked. “I thought you had a family dinner.”
“Came from there,” I grumbled. “Just need to blow off some steam.”
Serena’s head tipped to the side, her box braids swinging with the movement. “You need the bar or the bag?”
“You’re a good friend.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “The bag.”
“You know where those are. I’ve got some Jim Beam in my office if that doesn’t work.”
I saluted her and headed down the hallway to the men’s locker room.
I changed quickly, not even bothering to lock up my belongings.
By the time I made it out to the gym, Serena had retreated to her office.
She ran the day-to-day operations of Haven and handled the schedules and hiring. I just signed the checks.
I was damn lucky to have her as my right hand and knew it.
And it didn’t hurt that she didn’t bristle when I got cantankerous.
She never took it personally, but she wasn’t afraid to put me in my place when I needed it either.
And the fact that she’d been a professional MMA fighter for five years meant she could do it.
Rock music spilled out of the speakers as I took in the massive space.
The room was a mix of black and gray, except for two walls I’d used as my canvas for additional pieces.
There was an infinite array of colors there.
HAVEN branded the longest wall with all sorts of images springing from it.
The murals had taken me months, but when it all came together, it felt like they made the place mine.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” a voice greeted.
I looked at the twenty-one-year-old restocking towels. “Hey, Ev.”
Evan’s brows rose. “Shit. Who messed with you?”
“I need to work on my poker face,” I mumbled. “I’m fine. Just a long-ass day.”
“You need anything?” he asked, concern pulling his dark brows together.
I lifted one of my boxing gloves toward a heavy bag. “Just a date with that beauty.”
“All right. Holler if that changes,” he said, getting back to work.
I’d discovered the kid at barely eighteen, trying to tag my tattoo studio.
He’d been drunk and angry at the world. Instead of calling Trace, I’d made him a deal: work off the damages and get a chance at a real job in the end.
He’d made it through and now helped Jericho run the youth program at the gym.
He also assisted Serena with whatever she needed.
A loud thwack had me looking at a ring, where Jericho and one of our top fighters, Mateo, sparred.
Mateo was on a tear tonight. He was easygoing every moment of the day except when he was in that ring. It was as if it was the one place he truly let his demons loose—demons he kept under lock and key. I understood that. I searched for the same release half the times I walked through the door.
Mateo moved with panther-like grace as he took Jericho to the mat in a single-leg takedown. A handful of seconds later, Jericho tapped out. “Jesus,” he grumbled, climbing to his feet and spitting out his mouthguard. “I’m gonna feel that for a week.”
But Mateo was already back to his easygoing self, grinning at our friend. “Gotta motivate you to work a little harder.”
“Good luck with that,” I muttered, dropping my gloves and moving to the jump ropes to begin warming up. Nice and easy to get the muscles warm. I might be itching for the heavy bag, but I wouldn’t risk an injury to get to it.
“Not everyone wants to work out five hours a day,” Jericho shot back. “Some of us have lives and can still make this look good.”
I picked up the pace on my jumps, tossing in a skip step here and there.
Mateo scoffed as he hopped down from the ring. “We all know who looks best around here.” He turned to me. “And speaking of looking good, how’s my girl, Fal?”
The rope caught on my foot, making me nearly trip.
A grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling. “She tell you she misses me?”
Jericho slapped him on the back. “You want to get dead? Keep it up. You know no one messes with Fal.”
“Especially not someone who gets around as much as you do,” Evan called from his new vantage point on the far side of the room.
Mateo sent a scowl in his direction. “I got issues making decisions, that’s all.”
I grunted, moving toward one of the heavy bags and pulling on my boxing gloves. “Call it whatever you want. Just keep that indecision far from Fal.”
I felt eyes on me, and my gaze flicked to Jericho, finding him assessing me.
He and Oren were the only ones who knew that Fallon and I had a history.
Oren was too caught up in his own bullshit to even remember, and Jericho thought we’d moved to a simple friendship.
But nothing about Fallon would ever be simple for me.
My gloves tapped the bag in a few testing jabs as the guys smack-talked each other.
I tuned them out as I started in on the bag in earnest. Some part of me was aware of them leaving and Serena telling me she was locking up.
But it only broke through for a scattering of seconds here and there. Otherwise, it was just me and the bag.
Serena had turned off the stereo when she left, knowing the music I loved most was the sound of my gloves hitting the bag.
The tap, tap, thwack. The cadence I could make be whatever I needed.
I kept going until my lungs heaved and my muscles ached.
Until I felt like I might not be able to stand any longer.
And it still wasn’t enough. None of my old tricks were numbing the swirling darkness like they used to. It was as if I needed more and more.
Stepping back from the bag, I bent at the waist, struggling to catch my breath.
As I stood, I caught sight of her: blond hair gleaming beneath the gym lights, the strands so long I knew I could get lost in them as I got lost in her.
And, God, I wanted that. But as I took in more of Fallon, I instantly went on alert.
Her face was pale. Eyes rimmed with a hint of red that told me she’d cried at some point in the past couple of hours. I didn’t wait a goddamned second. I crossed to her in five long strides, tossing my gloves to the floor as I went. “What happened? You’re white as a sheet.”
I wasn’t particularly fond of touch. When you’d experienced it as nothing but pain for so long, it made you wary of letting someone into that sphere. But Fal was the exception. She always felt safe.
I tried not to let myself do it often. Didn’t want to give in to temptation. But without fail, the need for connection—for her—built inside me until I could do nothing to stop it. Only now, I didn’t even consider holding myself back.
My hand reached out to cup her face. Her skin was so smooth. Delicate. Like a petal that had never once been exposed to the elements. “Fal.”
I searched her dark blue eyes. I’d memorized the countless shades long ago, but I tracked each one now, knowing they’d tell a story. The shades changed with her mood and emotions, and I’d studied every single arrangement.
“It’s not me,” Fallon whispered, her voice barely audible.
Fuck. Keely’s little friend and her sisters. It must have been bad. “We’ll talk it through,” I promised. “I’ll take you to get a double-chocolate Oreo shake, and we’ll sit by the river until we’ve figured it out.”
My sparrow was a deep feeler. It was as if the whole world affected her more than most other people. But she didn’t run from those feelings. She met them head-on. She’d take all the pain if it meant helping someone along the way.
Fallon shook her head, her cheek still pressed to my palm. “It’s about you,” she croaked.
My brow furrowed, and confusion swam. “What do you mean?”
Pain swirled in those dark blue irises. No … it was deeper than pain. Agony. “Your mom,” she finally rasped.
I stilled, my blood running cold as my hand slowly dropped from Fallon’s face.
“She had more kids. You have three half-sisters, and DHS just took them into custody.”