17
GABE
Sometimes I wondered if she felt the same way I did. This undeniable pull between us. She’d give me this look occasionally, like she wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss her. But neither of us acted on it. It was almost as though we were afraid to, because if we did, it might break the spell.
So I stole affection in fleeting moments: a hand on the small of her back, a single finger stroking her skin. Flesh so close to flesh I could feel the heat of her. It was both torture and solace. I wondered if she knew how much it cost me to be so close to her and not touch her.
Her behavior confused me. She confused me. Even now, as we were surrounded by people cheering on the fight, she confused me. She watched the fight with her brows furrowed but her eyes wide with wonder or horror; I wasn’t sure which. She looked on as though transfixed, flinching as if she felt each blow. She’d wince at the strength of a punch but never shied away from the brutality of it. Yet there was still something in her eyes, something like worry or concern. I couldn’t place the emotion. It was as if she was trying to hide it.
“I seriously cannot believe I didn’t know about these fights,” she kept saying. “How long have they been running? Who organizes them? Do the fighters have to pass a medical exam before they sign up, or is there a waiver of some sort? What if someone gets badly injured? Do the police know about them and just ignore them?”
I answered her as best I could, but the questions kept coming until I had to laugh. She was like a curious child, bouncing on the balls of her feet. But I still wasn’t sure if it was due to excitement or nervousness.
At one point, she pulled out her phone, ready to record the event, and I had to push it down quickly. No one took out their phones here. No one recorded anything. She rolled her eyes when I explained but slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“When is Jake coming on?” she asked, as though it were some sort of stage show.
“He’s the last fight. He’s hanging up his gloves, so to speak, after this match. That’s why there are so many people here.”
“Why is he stopping?”
“Because he’s about to become a father.”
“Why should that stop him?”
“I think it’s more about the stress it puts on Amelia. It’s one thing to watch the actual fight, but quite another to deal with the aftermath. Jake has come back with some rather nasty injuries from time to time.”
“So why does he do it?”
“Fighting is in his blood. It’s in all of our blood. We’ve all been known to throw the odd punch from time to time, all except Clark, but for Jake, it’s almost a form of self-punishment.”
Music blasted across the speakers in between the matches. I got us a couple of cups of beer, and Syn threw hers back as though she were dying of thirst.
When the final fight rolled around, she cupped her hands to her mouth and hollered louder than anyone, but there was something about it that felt forced.
Jake was in beast mode. You could see it the instant he climbed into the ring. He didn’t glance around at the hundreds of people packed into the venue to watch him. He paid no attention to the money exchanged in bets. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck side to side, threw a couple of phantom punches, and stood in the corner of the ring, awaiting his opponent.
It had been months since Amelia had put herself between him and another fighter, begging him to stop. He was getting beaten to a pulp, allowing himself to feel the pain he’d just inflicted on someone else. Someone outside the regulations of the ring. Someone who had hurt Amelia. I knew what he was doing. I understood the pain he needed to feel. But still, he stopped. For her. His demons were still there, though, boiling just under the surface. That was the reason he kept fighting. He needed somewhere to exorcise them. But this was to be his last fight.
At least until the demons became too much for him again.
The bell sounded, and Jake and his opponent stepped to face each other. Then it was on. Jake defeated the man easily. It was brutal. Jake did not come to play. As soon as the man hit the ground, out for the count, Syn turned to me.
“That was exhilarating!” she said, but her face was ashen. “Jake was…” She shook her head. “I mean just—”
“He’s a beast, alright,” I echoed the sentiment she couldn’t put into words.
“Hey.”
I closed my eyes and sighed deeply at the sound of the voice behind me. It was Molly. Again. Sometimes I was sure she was stalking me. Syn narrowed her eyes as she looked over my shoulder. Her body stiffened a little, and I allowed myself a smile at the thought that she might be jealous.
“Hey, Mol,” I said, turning around to greet her. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Shhh,” she slurred, looping her hands around my neck. “Don’t tell Meals I’m here, okay?”
I didn’t know how much she’d had to drink, but it was too much. She’d always been a cheap drunk. I thought it had something to do with the lack of food in her system. The woman was impossibly thin—the sort of thin that made you want to steady her during a slight breeze.
I plucked her hands away from my neck and placed some distance between us.
Molly pouted. “You’ve changed.”
It was true. I had. Molly and I used to get along well, but that was before I realized how desperate she was to get her hands on any Thornton brother she could. At first, she was into Tyler. Now me. And I didn’t want to be anyone’s consolation prize. Besides, as stunning as she was, I just wasn’t into her like that. She was family now. I regarded her more like a sister than anything else, despite her efforts for us to become more.
“You’re drunk,” I pointed out the obvious.
“No shit, Sherlock.” She looked at her hand as though surprised there wasn’t a drink in it. “Want to buy me another drink?”
Beside me, Syn cleared her throat. She stood with her arms crossed, her head cocked to the side, and a death stare aimed at Molly. It was clear she was jealous. I didn’t know why she wouldn’t admit her attraction to me; she was stubborn like that and resisted the clear connection between us. But for some strange reason, it made me want her even more.
“I’m here with Syn, actually,” I replied.
Molly’s eyes fluttered until they settled on Syn. “Oh,” she said. “You again.”
Syn smiled sweetly but sarcastically. “Me again,” she chirped. She took a step closer to me, as though staking her claim.
Molly rested her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t you want to leave her and hang with me?” she whispered in my ear, loud enough for Syn to hear.
Syn snorted. “Could you be any more desperate?”
“Look at me and look at you,” Molly snapped back. “The choice is obvious.”
There were only a couple of steps between Syn and Molly, and Syn closed the distance quickly. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and her eyes narrowed further. The thought occurred to me that I should step between them to stop whatever the female version of a cockfight was, but I was enjoying myself too much, so I just stood there grinning stupidly.
Syn opened her mouth, then shook her head. “I’m not doing this,” she muttered, not even looking at me before turning and stalking off into the crowd.
“Good,” Molly said. “She—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said, as I took off after Syn.
“Hey,” I called out, trying to catch up with her. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” I grabbed her arm and turned her to face me.
“What?” she snapped.
I just stared at her, a smirk spreading across my face. I loved it when she got angry. There was a passion in her eyes that reminded me of the feelings I wanted to ignite in her in a completely different way. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“You were jealous,” I said in a sing-song voice.
“Was not,” she retorted.
“You were so jealous,” I teased. “It’s obvious you’re attracted to me; I don’t know why you keep fighting it.”
“Because you’d be no good for me.”
“Ah-huh! You admit it then. You admit you’re attracted to me.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Gabe. You’re very pretty. Are you happy now?”
“I don’t know why you won’t just give in. We could be—”
Syn walked away.
“Okay, okay,” I pleaded. “No more teasing, I promise.” I held up my hands. She looked at me dubiously. “Pinky promise.” I crooked my little finger out.
She turned away again, and I couldn’t tell if she was actually pissed for real or if we were still playing this game she insisted we act out.
“I can be a good boy too, you know,” I called out.
For some reason, that made her turn back around with a grin on her face. “Fine, I’ll stay. But only because you’re clearly desperate to have me here.”
I held up my hands once more, admitting defeat, and she fell back into step with me.
“Have you ever fought like that?” She started with the questions again.
I merely nodded.
“Who? Did you win? Does it hurt? Did you have to train for long? Did you get any money?”
“Whoa, slow down with all the questions.”
“Sorry.” She flashed me a hesitant grin, seemingly having forgotten all about Molly and my teasing. “I can’t help it. I didn’t know places like this existed. It’s so…” She chewed her bottom lip. “So strange, really. I can’t understand the desire to get hurt.” She grabbed my hand, and I did my best not to look down at where our skin connected. “So you have, then? You’ve fought like this?”
“I’ve done a couple of charity boxing matches, yes, but I have fought here once.” Her hand was warm in mine.
“Who did you fight?”
“Tyler.” Even with all the noise, all the people, the sights, and the smells, the only thing I could concentrate on was the feeling of her skin against mine. And it was only our hands, for fuck’s sake. What would it feel like if it were more? I’d been affectionate with her right from the start. It felt natural. But the more time I spent with her, the more aware of that contact I became.
“Your brother Tyler?”
I nodded as I watched her eyes dart back and forth, taking in the information.
“And what happened? Tell me everything.”
“It’s a long story,” I replied, thinking back to that night.
Syn just shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I chuckled and untangled my hand from hers before I was driven to distraction. “Well, Jake was supposed to be fighting, but he was in bad shape; we were scared he was going to end up in the hospital if he got in the ring again. He had a split over his eye, and his ribs were all bruised, if not broken.” I shuddered at the memory. “Jake wanted to fight. He was…” I paused, trying to figure out how to explain my brother's mental state at the time before realizing I couldn’t without giving too much away, so I gave up. “Anyway, the organizer of the fight had a lot of money at stake, so he wouldn’t let Jake out of the fight unless someone else stepped in. So I suggested Tyler and I fight. Brother against brother. But Tyler was all like, ‘I don’t want to fight you, Gabe,’ so I had to goad him into it.” I winked.
Syn crossed her arms and looked at me skeptically. “You goaded him into it?”
“Yeah, like I wound him up.”
“I know what goad means, Gabe. But how exactly did you goad him?”
I ran my hands through my hair and looked at her sheepishly. “Um, how do I put this… Let’s just say I did it by reminding him of my relationship with Lauren.”
“Classy.”
“It was for a good cause! And I did it to save Jake. Fuck knows what would have happened if Jake had been in the ring that night.”
“And who won?”
I snorted. “Who do you think?” I lifted my arm and kissed my bicep.
Syn merely rolled her eyes. “I bet that was fun to watch.” Her voice sounded like she thought it would be anything but fun.
“I didn’t think girls were into this sort of thing.”
“Have you looked around? Half the people watching here are women.”
She was right. As the people filed past us and out of the building, many of them were women. An awful lot. It surprised me, but I guess it shouldn’t have.
Jake threaded his way through the crowd and joined us, with Tyler in tow. Neither of us was prepared to let him fight without at least one of us by his side. The risk of him getting injured was too high. We’d been there before.
Syn watched them intently, her eyes narrowing in on Tyler. I gave Jake a hug and clapped him on the back, getting only a grunt in reply. Syn cleared her throat beside me, her gaze still fixed intently on Tyler. A rush of intense jealousy coursed through me. I guess it was my turn now.
“Tyler, this is Syn. Syn, Tyler.” I couldn’t help but let bitterness seep into my tone. Syn shook his hand enthusiastically.
“Great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Her eyes slid over to mine mischievously before returning to Tyler, scanning him from top to bottom. The pang of jealousy hit again. Harder this time. I wanted to grab her and kiss her in front of him. Claim her as mine. Not that I thought he’d do anything; he was much too in love with Lauren to ever risk losing her. But it was the way she looked at him that stung. I wanted her to look at me like that—with admiration, appreciation, adoration.
And then it hit me like a brick wall.
I wanted her. Badly. Not just in a purely physical way, but in a way that was far deeper. The realization was overwhelming. I’d been attracted to her from the moment I laid eyes on her, but I hadn’t realized I wanted her like this—not in the way I was just beginning to understand. My desire formed as a sharp pain in my chest. And since her hand was no longer in mine, I became acutely aware of the distance between us. I wanted to grab it again and hold it tight.
“Gabe was just telling me about the time you and he fought here,” Syn said.
Tyler lifted a single brow—the way we Thornton men were apparently known to do—as he looked over at me. “Was he now?” The disdain in his voice was obvious.
“She asked,” I snapped.
Syn looked over at me, confusion furrowing her brow. Part of me hated that she could read me so easily. The other part loved it. I stepped closer to her, slinging my arm around her shoulder. She moved near, almost snuggling into my side, and I was tempted to look over at Tyler in triumph. Even if there was nothing physical going on between us, she was still mine.
“You ready to go?” Syn looked up at me, her hazel eyes seeming more green than brown in the dim light, and wrapped her arms around my waist as though she sensed my discomfort.
“You okay?” she asked later as we lay in bed.
I’d been quiet. I knew that. I was seeing her in a completely different light now—one where her touch burned as well as comforted. I wanted to take all the teasing words I’d uttered, toss them to the wind, and watch them fly away.
Just friends.
I didn’t want to be just friends. And looking back, I was pretty sure I never did.
She was lying on her tummy, sideways across the bed, her head resting on my stomach as we watched a movie on the pathetically small screen of her laptop. Her legs were twisted at the ankles and waving in the air. I felt the tickle of her breath on my skin.
“I’m good.” I forced a smile as she twisted her head to look back at me.
“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the fight.”
“I’m right as rain.”
“Liar. You’ve never been this quiet before. It’s like you’ve suddenly transformed into one of your brothers and only talk in short, clipped answers or grunts.”
“I just hate how they look at me sometimes. Like I’m beneath them. Always a disappointment.”
It wasn’t the full truth, but I couldn’t tell her what I was actually thinking. I couldn’t say that all night I’d been watching her, aware of every brush of her skin against mine, of the way her lips curled downward instead of upward when she smiled, or of the way my heart flopped in my chest whenever our eyes met. I didn’t want her to know my mind was filled with thoughts of what it would be like to kiss her, what she would taste like, how it would feel to touch her, hold her close, and slide inside her.
“Well, I don’t see you that way.”
She was drawing patterns on my stomach, trailing her nails across my flesh and leaving goosebumps in her wake. It was torture. Once again, I cursed as well as craved her ease of affection.
“I think you’re good to your family. You’ve told me a lot about the time you spend with your nephew, Dante, and the times you’ve babysat Ollie. You’re hardworking. You spend so many hours at that gym. You’re a good brother.” She blinked up at me and innocently licked her lips. For a moment, I was transfixed by the dampness of them reflecting in the flashing light from the screen. “Heck,” she said, “You even gave one of your brothers your girlfriend.”
It took a moment for the statement to sink in, and I’m sure I had a look of shock on my face until I laughed, then grabbed the pillow and playfully whacked her. She blinked, then snatched the pillow, clambering on top of me to pin me down as she thumped it over my head. Shielding myself until I managed to wrestle the pillow from her, I grabbed her and tossed her to the mattress, holding her down and starting my own assault.
Syn laughed. It was pure. It was the best sound in the world. Her hair tossed back and forth over her face as she struggled beneath me, shrieking and howling. Her knees flailed against my back as she reached up and tried to yank the pillow from my hands. Then everything just stopped, and we were staring at each other, pillows discarded, laughter fading, breaths heavy. My gaze moved to her mouth. I couldn’t help it. There was nothing more I wanted in that moment than to kiss her. She blinked up at me, and I lowered my head, already imagining the softness of her lips.
And the pillow hit me again.
“You’re such a dick,” she said, chuckling.
And the spell was broken.