CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kye
IPULLED MY BIKE INTO A SPOT AT HAVEN AND CLIMBED OFF.
Nora had called on my way here, obviously having gotten word from one of my siblings about what was going on.
She’d offered the same sentiments of support everyone else had, but I heard the worry in her voice.
She knew this would stir shit up for me.
It was another reason I’d come to Haven instead of going home. The sounds of children’s voices lit the air as I headed for my office. Checking my watch, I saw that the youth after-school class would just be finishing up for the day.
I grabbed workout gear from my office and quickly changed, feeling the call of the gym. But I wasn’t sure the heavy bag would be enough for me this time. I needed to spar.
I nearly collided with Evan as I left the locker room. He did a quick sweep of my face. “You okay?”
I swallowed back the urge to lie. He didn’t deserve that. And because he’d grown up like I had, he’d know I was lying anyway.
“No. But I will be.”
Evan lifted his head in assent. “You need something, you holler. I’ve got your back.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you. How were the kids today?”
Evan grinned. “Fuckin’ funny. That Benny kid thinks he’s the next Anderson Silva.”
That had me fighting a smile as I looked up to where Benny was heading out with his dad.
“Mr. Kye!” he called, his cheeks bright red from class. “Did Mr. Evan tell you that I kicked booty today?”
I bit back a chuckle. “He did. Keep up the good work.”
“I’ve been practicing. Like all the time,” Benny informed me.
His dad sent me an exasperated look. “He has. Our couch cushions will never be the same.”
“Might be time for an at-home punching bag,” I suggested.
Benny’s whole face lit up. “Can I, Dad? Then I can practice defending Miss Arden’s honor.”
A choked sound escaped me. The kid took art classes from Arden and had been enamored with her from day one. “She’s in good hands.”
Benny’s dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “God help us all.”
As they headed out the door, I turned back to a grinning Evan.
“I’m not sure anyone has ever called me Mr. Evan. Ever.”
I chuckled. “Should I get you a nameplate?”
“I’ll hang it with pride,” Evan shot back.
As he headed for the locker room, I moved to the gym. The last of the kids were leaving with their parents as Jericho put the final pieces of gear away. His gaze instantly cut to me. He didn’t ask how I was—he just checked silently. Whatever he saw seemed to ease him, at least slightly.
That was good. The last thing I needed was to feel more guilt for making Jericho worry. I held up my MMA gloves. “You wanna spar, or did those kids wear you out?”
Jericho grinned. “They ran circles around me, but I can still kick your ass, Priest.”
I scowled at him. “Just for that, I’m not holding back.”
Jericho cracked his neck. “I can take you any day of the week.”
“Dude,” Evan called as he strode back into the gym, pulling on some boxing gloves. “Benny handed you your ass today.”
I barked out a laugh. “The truth comes out.”
Jericho glared at both of us. “I’m helping his confidence.”
“Sure, you are,” Evan said as he began hitting the heavy bag.
I moved to one of the treadmills to do a quick warm-up, taking stock of the half-full gym: Serena was working with Mateo in one of the practice rings, a few guys were at heavy bags, and a woman was working a speed bag like it was her job.
This was typical for this time of day, but when the workday ended, the place would be packed.
As soon as my muscles were loose, I slowed to a walk and then turned the machine off altogether. I crossed to the closest ring and began moving through my stretching routine, but as I studied Jericho, my brows pulled together. “You okay?”
I’d been so caught up in my own shit that I’d missed how tightly wound he was.
Jericho moved from foot to foot as if he had boundless energy.
The moment I asked the question, his gaze shot to me.
His jaw worked back and forth. “Oren showed again after you left. It was clear he was watching. Waiting for you to leave so he could get me alone.”
A muscle pulsed in my jaw. “Thought he could get you to go down.”
Jericho jerked his head in a nod. “Pushed all the usual buttons. Offered money. Then made some vague threats.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. “I can’t have him coming around right now. I’m gonna have to talk to Trace.”
All it would take was one rumor of me being mixed up with the Reapers MC for me to lose all hope of getting custody of my sisters. I rubbed at a phantom pain taking root in my chest like I was having a heart attack.
Concern lit Jericho’s features. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? You’ve been a wreck. Then you took off on Fal, and she looked like she’d seen a ghost when she left the studio.”
More guilt ground into me. I cracked my knuckles on one hand and then the other. Jericho knew everything that’d happened to me as a kid. So, I knew he’d get the gravity of what I was about to say. “Renee. She’s got three girls. I have three half-sisters.”
Jericho’s jaw went slack. “Fuck, man. That bitch should never be trusted with a child.”
“I know.” I raked a hand through my hair. “They were removed from her care, and I’m trying to get custody.”
The color drained from his face. “They okay?”
“As okay as they can be. But I’m not letting them live with the fear I did. I’m gonna give them something stable. But I can’t do that if Oren’s hanging around.”
“Oren? Oren with the Reapers?” Mateo asked, his eyes hardening as he and Serena moved in our direction. “Tell me you’re not getting mixed up with that asshole.”
“Trust me, I’m doing everything I can to get him gone,” I muttered.
Concern lit Serena’s dark eyes. “Something I need to know about?”
“Not right now. I’m gonna let Trace tackle it.” It was the only thing I could do. I couldn’t risk trying to deal with Oren personally.
A little of the tension eased from Serena’s shoulders. “Good. And if he tries coming in here, I’ll handle it.”
My mouth pulled into a grin. “He’s scared shitless of you. He won’t set foot in here.”
“Anyone with half a brain is scared shitless of Ser,” Evan called from the nearest heavy bag.
Serena’s lips twitched. “And don’t you forget it.”
Mateo sent Serena a mischievous grin. “You can beat me up anytime, Ser.”
She swatted a towel in his direction. “Hit the showers, Casanova.”
Mateo began jogging in that direction. “I love it when you spank me.”
Evan started choking on a laugh while Serena just shook her head. “I’m gonna go catch up on paperwork. Holler if you need me.”
As she headed down the hall and Evan started up with the heavy bag again, Jericho and I climbed into the second practice ring. I put in my mouthguard and set my water bottle on the edge of the ring, pulling on my gloves.
Jericho’s gaze swept my face again. “You sure you’re in a good enough headspace for this?”
“I need it.” It was as simple as that. I had to get the buzzing energy in me out. And this was the most constructive way—this or getting another piece of ink. But I was running out of space there.
Jericho waited for a second longer as if he needed to see something to decide one way or the other. “We talk as we spar.”
I scowled at him. “What are you, my shrink?”
“Some days.” Jericho rolled onto the balls of his feet and started moving.
He had a point. And he probably understood better than most. Not the shitty home life, but the things we’d seen and done. He got that piece of it. He understood what put me at risk of losing everything.
I moved to the center of the ring and sent out a few testing jabs that Jericho easily blocked. Then he answered with a few of his own. “You sure you’re ready to take on raising three girls? You live in a one-bedroom apartment.”
My teeth tightened around my mouthguard. “Got another place. A house.”
Jericho’s brows rose at that. “You do?”
I lifted my chin in assent.
“You have a house, but you live in that shitty apartment?” he asked. “I never did understand why you didn’t buy a place. Because I know you’ve got the funds for it.”
There was no way Jericho couldn’t know. He worked too closely with me. Knew what I charged. Saw all the deals I signed for licensing.
“My apartment isn’t shitty.” I landed a blow on his ribs to punctuate my point.
Jericho let out a sound of protest. “Dude. That place is like seven hundred square feet. And the bathroom is more like a closet.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
Jericho moved in, trying for a leg sweep, but I dodged it easily. He retreated, keeping his hands up in a defensive guard. “You ever think you never got yourself something better because some part of you thinks you don’t deserve it?”
Fuck.
The words hit harder than any blow could.
But that wasn’t it. Not entirely, at least. I didn’t know what I’d do with some massive house.
When I finished the project with the builders out of Portland, I knew I’d never be able to live there.
As perfect as it was, every time I walked around in it, I felt …
empty. As if it made me more aware of what was missing in my life. What I’d never have.
“It’s not that,” I said, throwing a hook that Jericho dodged.
“Whatever you say.” He landed a punch to the kidney that stung. “What’s the process like? Filing for custody, I mean.”
My teeth clamped tightly around my mouthguard again.
Jericho didn’t miss the movement. “What?”
“Might be a challenge with my history. What I look like on paper.”
He sent a cross to my shoulder that I dodged. “Fuckers.”
“Fal had an idea,” I said, lowering my voice to make sure no one else could hear. I shouldn’t even be telling Jericho, but I had to let it out. Needed to tell someone. And he knew Fal’s and my true history.
Jericho grinned, revealing his black mouthguard. “Of course, she did. I’d vote for that girl for president.”
“She thinks we should get married.”
Jericho halted, his hands dropping to his sides and his jaw going slack. “She what?”