CHAPTER 14
Reed
A drop of sweat snakes down my neck, drifting away from the ones clinging to my forehead.
My fists find the punching bag again and again and again. A constant thump, thump, thump that matches the rhythm of my frantic heartbeats.
The weight of Liam’s stare burns me. If he weren’t teaching a class in one of the adjacent rooms, I’d feel Warren’s too. It doesn’t surprise me that nothing escapes my closest friends—my brothers in all the ways that count.
So, I’m fully expecting Liam’s hand to set firmly on my punching bag, stopping me. “Reed.”
His voice sounds underwater. My brain knows he’s talking to me, but I still ignore him, hitting the bag, punch after punch, followed by another punch.
I wish the pain radiating through my fists would dissolve the one coating my soul.
“Give it a rest, man. Let’s just talk,” Liam says.
“I don’t want to talk,” I grit out. But it’s like my voice doesn’t belong to me. Like this moment isn’t really happening. Like I’m going to wake up any second now.
You ruined our family.
If you hadn’t told the neighbors, we would—
Liam pulls the punching bag away from me with a yank. When my eyes focus, my best friend’s face is all lines of concern and agitation.
“You were about to lose it, man.” Liam glances over my shoulder, throwing his brother a knowing look.
“I’m okay,” I mutter, removing my boxing gloves as heavy footsteps approach me from behind.
Warren’s voice reaches me just a moment later. “All right, brother. Enough sulking and punching bags.”
Much like his actual brother, Warren—who is four years older than us—knows exactly what’s going on in my head with just a quick glance. Growing up in the foster care system, always alert, always suspicious, we are all used to reading the silent cues as if they were words on paper.
“You’re telling me I can’t punch bags at a boxing gym,” I deadpan, knowing damn well what he’s about to tell me.
“I’m saying you can’t zone out like that. It’ll do you no good. Some mental health god you are.”
Deep down, I’m aware this isn’t the healthiest way to cope with today. Haniyah always encouraged me to attend therapy when life got too heavy, and I’ve listened to her. A handful of therapists have helped me over the years to deal with most of the burdens of my past, but those rules don’t exist on this particular day of every year.
“Ignore him.” Liam runs a hand through his longish blond hair. “Let’s hit the bar tonight. Drinks on me.”
“Count me the hell in,” Warren says with a huge grin before his hand drops to my shoulder. “You’re coming with us. Not open for discussion.”
It’s a Saturday afternoon, so they know I don’t have an excuse to say no. But just because I usually don’t work on weekends doesn’t mean I’ll say yes to their plans, which must be why Liam adds, “We know you’re going to spend the night brooding in your empty house, which is frankly sad as fuck. If you don’t want to go out for yourself, do it for us. We don’t want to see you like this.”
Goddammit .
I met Liam and Warren in my first foster home when I was seven. I’d always been the quiet kid, happy on my own, never particularly interested in making friends. But Liam had had a fight with his brother that day, and he asked me to play a video game with him instead.
By the time Warren showed up to apologize, Liam had decided I was going to be their new brother. I’m still not sure why, because I wasn’t the life of the party, but something about me drew the Hart brothers in. We’ve been inseparable since.
Three years later, they got adopted by a couple who understood how important our friendship was. And while they didn’t adopt me—nobody did—they allowed Liam and Warren to meet with me every weekend.
Our friendship grew over the years, and even the hits of adulthood weren’t strong enough to separate us. Nobody and nothing will.
I love them in the same way I love Haniyah, like one loves a stranger who eventually becomes family.
And because these fuckers love me back and know what strings to pull, I find myself agreeing. “Just one drink.”
***
I’d never spent the anniversary of the ending of my old life surrounded by alcohol before. Not once in the twenty-eight years since I sent my parents to jail.
Going for a drink seems like the obvious answer to grief, to drowning the pain, to distracting the anger. To most people, anyway.
But I’ve never leaned into alcohol because I crave the punishment this day brings every year.
In a fucked-up way, I’m convinced I deserve it. Therapy hasn’t been able to fix this part of me, the one that feels guilty for everything that happened. My brain knows I need to move on, but my heart refuses to catch up.
Today marks the day my parents got arrested for child neglect and abuse after leaving me alone at the house for five days.
They left me—to go who the fuck knows where—with nothing but the bleeding wound on my back my dad had inflicted the night before and some stale bread. The perfect company for a seven-year-old.
Today marks the last day I saw my father, who passed from heart failure shortly after he went to jail. The coward left before I became strong enough to tell him how much I fucking hated him.
Today marks the last day I saw my mother alive. She went to jail, too, but soon was transferred to a mental health institution. Schizophrenia, they said. The next time I saw her, I was seventeen, and she was being lowered to the ground in a casket.
I gulp down the remains of my first and last whiskey of the night, fulfilling my promise to Liam and Warren, and stamp a handful of bills on the counter. It covers my drink and a couple of rounds for them—a gift of sorts to compensate for my shitty mood and even shittier company.
“See you at the gym.” I stand, but Liam grabs my arm in a strong grip.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’ve been here for ten minutes, man. Sit your ass down.”
I don’t.
“I said I’d have one drink, not that I’d stay for two hours,” I point out, probably sounding like an asshole.
Warren takes a sip of his beer before agreeing with his younger brother. “If you wanna sulk, do it here. No need to do it at home.”
The headache I’ve been nursing all day intensifies, not because I don’t love my brothers but because I’m really not in the fucking mood.
This week has been a shit show from start to finish.
During our last counseling session, I tried to help Cameron understand the source of his anger and protectiveness, and I reassured him it was okay to walk away from a conflict to calm down. But I have a feeling that won’t be enough to change his ways.
Melody didn’t come to the youth center all week after the incident. Her parents assured us she’ll be back, that she just wanted to take a small break, but it shouldn’t be like this.
And just when I thought the week couldn’t get worse, Sean’s parents pulled him out of the youth center. Haniyah was told that he was transferred to another youth center in town, so at least he’ll continue getting the help he needs.
The whole thing still left a bad taste in my mouth.
“Forgot to tell you earlier because we were too busy making sure you didn’t annihilate that punching bag,” Warren says, bringing me back to the present. “But you need to sit down first, or I won’t tell you.”
He gets an eye roll for that, but I do as he says. “What is it?”
Warren exchanges a quick glance with Liam. “The kids can start next month.”
That sentence alone shifts my whole mood.
“You’re serious?” I glance between the two of them. “You cleared it with the sponsors?”
Warren nods, smiling. “They’re on board. Thought it’d be a great idea, too. They’re all about helping the community and all that.”
“I’ll email you the information for the parents on Monday,” Liam chimes in. “The kids are gonna have a blast.”
As children who grew up in the foster system, all three of us know what it’s like to be defenseless. Angry, confused, bitter, alone. But we had one another—and eventually, we had boxing.
Warren and Liam opened their own boxing gym five years ago. Ever since, they’ve offered lessons to children who need a safe place to channel their anger and learn to control it. When I suggested donating a few lessons to the kids at the youth center, they were immediately on board. And so are the local sponsors we contacted to help us fund this project, apparently.
“Thank you,” I say. “They are going to lose their minds when we tell them.”
“That’s the goal.” Warren grins before taking another sip of his beer. His eyes travel past Liam and me as he sets down the now-empty glass. “Uh-oh. Might want to order another round before that bachelorette party takes over.”
I turn just as a loud group of young women and a couple of men wearing glittery cowboy hats enters the bar. I’m about to tell Liam and Warren that there’s no way in hell they’re making me stay now—I have nothing against people having fun, but I’m really not in the mood tonight—when a flash of long blonde hair makes me come to a halt.
The most logical part of my brain knows there’s no reason for my heart to leap. Countless people have long blonde hair—enough not to assume it’s her.
Why my pulse accelerates when I think it is her is the question.
Yet all thoughts vanish from my mind as Lila lifts her head from her phone and finds my eyes across the bar.
Shit.
“Hey, dude,” Warren says. “I asked if you wanted another drink.”
The words I’m calling it a night are at the tip of my tongue. Going home like I’ve been wanting to for the past ten minutes crosses my mind before I catch another glimpse of Lila.
And suddenly, my plans have gone out the window.
“I’ll get the next round,” I tell them, convinced I’m losing my mind for good. “Two beers?”
“Yeah,” Liam confirms, eyeing me with a new interest. “Glad to hear you’re staying.”
I don’t answer. As if pulled by an invisible string, my body moves on autopilot toward the bar.
She’s waiting for her drink, and it doesn’t take her longer than a couple of seconds to notice me as I come to a halt by her side, pressing my warmth against her in the crowded bar. The last thing I expect her to do is look me up and down, amusement glinting on her face.
“Are you following me, Dr. Abner?” Her teasing voice makes something in the southern region of my body stir to life.
Absolutely fucking not.
I shift on my feet. “Considering I was already here with my friends when you walked in, I’d say you are the one following me, little criminal.”
Her cheeks turn pink, which doesn’t help my situation. A situation that shouldn’t be happening in the first place.
“I see,” she mutters before adjusting her cowboy hat over her head. “Thoughts on my outfit?”
I don’t allow myself to look past her neck even though I know she’s wearing a short skirt, heeled boots, and a pink sweater. When it comes to her, I always notice more than I should.
“Very glittery. What’s the occasion?”
She throws her thumb over her shoulder to the group at her back. “Birthday party. I wanted to stay home and finish up some classwork for next week, but I can’t exactly say no to Mariah.”
“Mariah?”
“She’s my best friend,” she explains, a small smile on her glossy lips. Stop staring at her goddamn mouth . “Her dad works with my dad. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
I frown. “Wait. Trey is her dad?”
She nods.
Trey works with Cal at the tattoo parlor, and I’ve met him once or twice in passing. As if summoned by our conversation, a smiley Black girl with a glittery silver cowboy hat throws her arm around Lila.
“Making new friends, Li? I feel like a proud mom.”
Lila rolls her eyes at her. “Mariah, this is Reed. Reed, Mariah. The birthday girl.”
I give her a smile. “Nice to meet you. Happy birth—”
“Wait,” she says, cutting me off and glancing frantically between Lila and me. “ This is Reed? The internship guy?”
The internship guy?
So, she told her best friend about me. Huh.
Why that makes my chest fill with an unknown emotion, I’d rather not know.
“That’d be me. Internship guy.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Sorry for being so forward. It’s just that I’ve heard so much about you, you know? It’s great to finally meet the guy Li has been running away from.”
“Riah,” Lila hisses.
“Sorry. I might be a tiny bit drunk. Pregaming did something to me.”
By the way she’s wobbling a little, I believe her.
Trey’s daughter leans over in my direction, whispering in a still-too-loud voice, “Don’t worry, Reed. She really likes you. She told me you were a great mentor and all that. And you’re easy on the eyes, too, which helps.”
“Mariah!”
She looks back at Lila, shrugging. “Hey, just telling the truth. You know I’ve been trying to get with Eva for months, so it’s not like I’m going to steal your man over here. I promise he’s not my type.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Is this Eva person here tonight?”
I have no idea why I’m playing along, why I have this sudden need for Lila’s best friend to like me, but I lean into it.
“Oh, yeah. I told Li I’m not going home tonight, if you know what I mean.”
“Forgive her,” Lila chimes in, her cheeks flaming. “She’s a friendly person on a normal day, but she always gets a little out of control after a few drinks.” She holds Mariah around her shoulders. “No more drinks for you tonight, birthday girl.”
She pouts. “How about later?”
“Once you’ve had a full bottle of water, maybe.”
“Okay, Mom.” Mariah turns to me. “I’m gonna dance now, but it was great meeting you, Reed. You’re a tall guy.”
I chuckle. “Have a good birthday night, Mariah. And take care. That water might be a good idea if you want to avoid a hangover tomorrow.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Oh, Li, look at him, all worried about my hangover in the morning. Cute. You guys are a match of worriers made in heaven.” She hiccups. “Okay, enough talking. Bye, Reed.”
Lila hides her face in her hands as her friend goes back to their group. “I don’t know what that was just now. I’m so sorry.”
“The past five minutes never happened. Got it.”
I smirk down at her, not really minding her friend’s drunken words. Whatever allows me to see that pretty blush on her cheeks, I’ll take it.
She glances around the bar before looking back at me. “Let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do after that fiasco.”
“You don’t have to do that. The past five minutes never happened, remember?”
“You’ve been forgetting too many things about me lately, starting with the tire thing. And I owe you for being so unfair to you when I started the internship,” she argues. “Which, by the way, won’t happen again. Running away from you, I mean. I’m fighting my intrusive thoughts like crazy right now.”
That pulls a chuckle from me. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” When she pops the p , the pink gloss on her lips catches the reflection of the lights above us. “I know there are many people around, but I enjoy your company, so I’m focusing on that.”
My heart does a fucking cartwheel.
“I enjoy your company too, but there’s no need to buy me anything,” I insist. “I was just here to order a couple beers for my friends and call it a night.”
“Oh.” I tell myself I’m imagining the way her face falls. “So, you’re leaving?”
“Might stay around for a bit, but I’m not drinking. Just water for me.”
“Then I’ll get you some water,” she presses, looking past my shoulders. “I’m guessing your friends are those two guys looking at us. Otherwise, I might start freaking out.”
Indeed, I spot Liam and Warren focusing very intensely on us when I turn my head. I raise a questioning eyebrow their way and get two shameless smirks in return.
“Those would be my friends,” I tell Lila. “Actually, I don’t know if Haniyah filled you in on this, but we’re offering free boxing lessons to the kids starting next month. My friends over there, Liam and Warren, own the gym where they’ll be taking their lessons.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? That’s amazing. I bet Cameron would benefit a lot from channeling his anger through a sport. They’re going to love it.”
Cameron had also been on my mind when I first considered boxing lessons for them.
“Can I go say hi to them?” she asks. “I want to thank them for the boxing lessons.”
Something warm settles in my chest. “Sure.”
But as soon as I say the word, someone crashes into Lila. My arms wrap around her waist before I can understand what’s happening, my only concern being that she doesn’t hurt herself. She clings to my upper arms, her warmth seeping into my skin and not letting me breathe.
Everything around us disappears when our eyes lock.
Enthralled, I can only focus on her uneven breaths and her lips, just inches away.
What would she taste like?
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” a new voice squeals.
Lila blinks and pulls away, breaking the moment, and creating a safe distance between us once again.
“I’m so sorry,” that voice repeats. “Are you okay?”
I shift my gaze to a girl I don’t recognize. She’s also wearing a glittery cowboy hat, so I’m assuming she’s from Lila’s friend group.
“I’m fine,” Lila says, breathless.
The girl gives me a big smile and holds out her hand in my direction. “Hi, I’m Karla. Lila’s friend. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I tip my chin in acknowledgment. “Nice to meet you, Karla. I’m Reed.”
“Oh, I know,” she drawls as I let go of her clammy hand. “I’m a counseling MA student, just like Lila. I actually asked you a question during your last open lecture at the university. You don’t remember me?”
I put my hands in the pockets of my slacks, itching to go back to when it was just Lila and me. “I don’t, sorry.”
Lila, who has been standing to the side since Karla pushed her into me, picks up on my stiffness. “I’ll come back to our table in a minute,” she tells her friend.
Karla’s face drops for a moment, but her happy mask slips back on quickly. “Sure. Nice to see you again, Reed.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile and say nothing.
Wrapped in Lila’s magnetic bubble, I hadn’t even noticed how packed the bar has become in the past few minutes. So, when she starts in Liam and Warren’s direction, placing my hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowd comes as an instinct. She stays close, not pulling away from my touch, which once again makes the situation behind my zipper not ideal.
Why am I getting hard over my twenty-four-year-old intern? My friends’ daughter, for fuck’s sake.
I pull away before we reach our table. Liam and Warren each send me a questioning look before their eyes fall on the girl in front of me.
“Hi,” she starts, her voice friendly. “I’m Lila. Sorry to interrupt like this. It’s just that I work with Reed at the youth center, and he told me about the boxing lessons. I wanted to thank you guys for doing this for the kids. It’ll really help them.”
“Why, Lila, thank you. Name’s Warren. So pleased to meet you.” Warren’s face splits into a grin. “This one over here is my brother, Liam. Anything for those kiddos. You work with Reed, you say?”
I send him a death glare that only makes his smile wider. Asshole .
Lila is oblivious to our silent exchange. “He’s my internship supervisor.”
“Please tell us he’s not an asshole to you,” Liam says. “Are we the only ones getting special treatment?”
The sound of her chuckle makes my chest constrict. “He’s not an asshole. Only a bit grouchy sometimes.”
“I thought we agreed on bossy, not grouchy.” My breath grazes the shell of her ear as I lean in. “Changed your mind?”
I don’t miss her uneven breath. “Both can be true at the same time.”
“Mmm.”
“So, what are you studying, Lila?” Warren asks, not looking particularly annoyed that I’ve forgotten their beers.
“I’m a grad student, on to become a youth counselor next year. Hopefully.”
That makes me frown. “Hopefully?”
“Just like our baby boy over here.” Liam grins, patting my arm.
I throw him a glare. “I’m older than you.”
“Still our baby boy,” he coos.
Lila snickers. “It was great meeting you both, but I have to go back to my friend’s birthday party.”
“Sure thing. Hope to see you again, Lila.” Warren’s smile is sincere as he adds, “Those boxing lessons aren’t just for the kids, just so you know.”
“Yeah. Feel free to join us anytime,” Liam agrees. “Reed will be more than happy to train you, I’m sure.”
She swirls her head toward me. “You practice boxing?”
“Been doing it for a few years,” I answer.
“Oh. That… makes sense.” Has she just looked at my arm, or am I seeing things? She’s quick to add, “I mean, it makes sense that you practice boxing when your friends own the gym. That’s all. Well, um, it was great meeting you guys. I’ll see you on Monday, Reed.”
Before it registers that what I’m about to do is definitely not appropriate, I stop her with my hand around her arm. “Wait.”
When she glances down at my fingers, I drop them. “Do you have a way to get home?”
She clears her throat. “Yeah. I’ll just call an Uber or my dad when I want to leave. But thanks for asking.”
“I can drive you home if you want,” I blurt out before I know what the fuck I’m doing.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to bother you.” Those doe eyes have never looked more beautiful than right now, staring up at me as the light makes those green-and-hazel specks shine even brighter. “You said you wanted to call it a night. I don’t want to make you wait.”
I can stay. I can stay for an hour or two or three or for as long as you need me to. Because suddenly, the thought of you not getting home safely is choking the air out of my lungs.
“All right.” I put my hands inside my pockets to avoid reaching out to touch her. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. I can come back to drive you home. It may not be safe to get in a stranger’s car by the time you leave.”
That makes her smirk. “If I change my mind, I’ll email your faculty address. Sure.”
“Smart-ass.” I reach for my phone under her mirthful stare. “Here. Type in my number on your phone.”
She worries her lip between her teeth. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
But she’s still reaching for her phone.
“For emergencies,” I lie to myself.
Lie to her.
She nods, something electric and unfamiliar passing between us.
“For emergencies,” she agrees.
Her words sound like a lie, too.
***
Two hours later, I’m reading in bed when my phone pings with a notification.
Unknown Number stares back at me. I don’t need to read the text to check who it is because my gut simply knows.
Unknown Number: Just got home safe. I knew you were losing sleep over it, so this technically counts as an emergency.
Unknown Number: This is Lila, by the way :)
Setting my book aside, I drag my hand across my jaw. I should pretend to be asleep, to have my phone on silent, anything but what I end up doing.
Me: Glad to hear it. Did you have a good night?
Dots appear on my screen instantly, and a few seconds later, I get her reply.
Lila: I don’t go out much, so I kept wanting to go home. But I had fun.
Lila: Mariah and Eva finally hooked up (another emergency since you seemed invested)
The playfulness of her texts shouldn’t light me up from the inside, and yet…
We’re not being inappropriate, not exactly, but texting back and forth with my intern at night about nonacademic matters is surely frowned upon.
But my heart has had a shitty day, and this is what it wants. For once, I listen.
Me: I was indeed waiting for confirmation. Now I can sleep in peace.
Lila: Ha-ha. I need to wake up early to work on my thesis. Have a good night :)
Me: Good night, Lila. Sleep well.
It’s not until the following morning that I realize I didn’t fall asleep with my parents on my mind.
Blonde hair and hazel eyes took over.