Snapshot

25. Reese

The first time I came to The Underground , I was drunk and don’t remember much, but ever since that first night when I saw my old best friend getting the shit beat out of him, I’m stone-cold sober when I walk through those double doors. I don’t come every weekend, and I haven’t been here since the start of school.

I don’t even know why I’m here tonight. On the off chance Winnie tagged along? Elijah would never allow her to come here, and for good reason. It’s a shithole. I mean, what else would an illegal underground boxing ring be besides a shithole?

Girls are practically naked, and I’ve seen guys do unthinkable things to the workers carrying drinks. Yeah, this definitely isn’t the place for Winnie.

Sawyer leads us across the large room to a couple tables in the back. It’s not a great view, but I don’t particularly like seeing Elijah nearly kill guys. I just know he’s imagined them as me a time or two.

It’s hard for me to accept the person Elijah is these days; he’s so different from when we were kids. He was always the happy one. Constantly cracking jokes and teasing. He loved his family more than life and was really good about making me forget my shitty homelife. I never told him much, but it’s not like I had to tell him my parents argued when you could hear it clear as day most of the time.

Elijah loved hockey almost as much as I did, and then his dad died and everything changed. He only played because he knew his dad really wanted him to, so when he died, he quit. But he was good. He would probably be playing next to me instead of fighting in cages to get an itch scratched if my dad had never killed his.

That’s not an easy pill for me to swallow.

Brogan drops three beers and a coke for me onto the table before taking his seat. “Word is Ace is in a mood tonight. They are saying this is going to be a good fight.”

Mood? What the fuck does that mean? “Who is he fighting?”

Schmidt pulls up the paper he grabbed by the door to read the lineup. “Lincoln.”

Shit. Lincoln is another good fighter. I get why people are saying it’s going to be a good one. Still, my money is on Elijah—or Ace, as he goes by down here. Even if I knew he was going to lose, I couldn’t stand myself not to put my faith in him. He might hate me, but I don’t think I could ever find it in me to hate him.

Before the main event, there are always a few smaller fights. Some women fighters, others just rookie guys who haven’t earned a proper name yet.

The night passes slowly, and each minute closer to Elijah’s fight, my anxiety fucking spikes.

Finally, his name is announced over the intercom, and Lincoln’s follows. Cheers and boos alike sound from all around us. Lincoln is loyal to The Underground. Elijah is a wild card who won’t commit to anywhere. So, by default, Lincoln has more fans, but Elijah can hold his own without the screaming crowd.

Normally, when the guys move closer to watch, I stay back, but tonight I slip from the chair and trail after them. Taking our place on the far end.

It’s obvious Lincoln is out for blood tonight. He’s more savage than usual, but whatever mood Elijah is in is helping him meet each of Lincoln’s punches with his own. It’s like a game for Elijah. Growing up, he would pick fights with kids just to tumble. He found joy in it, and this is no different. Even with blood dripping down his face, he’s still smirking. This is the only place he looks genuinely happy.

The third round starts, and both guys are stumbling around with looks of determination across their bloody faces. I wish I could tell who is going to win, but I can’t. Lincoln took the first round, but Elijah came out on top with the second. If he loses, I’m only losing out on a hundred bucks, so it’s not going to break my bank. But I was hoping to walk out with more than I walked in with.

I’m going to have to start paying Winnie to take our photos—why I stupidly offered that, I don’t know. But Mr. Kinnon, Miller, and Coach took me up on it. Fifty bucks every game, and fifteen for practices. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but it adds up. My savings are heavy, but I’m saving for my future and would like to keep it that way. Paying the girl I love to take photos of me wasn’t in that plan, but hopefully all that money will one day end up in our joint account.

The crowd is going wild. Shouting unintelligible things, and the guys are feeding off it. Lincoln stands taller, and Elijah looks ready to kill. Which wouldn’t be the first time. It’s never on purpose, I think, but with a fucked-up place like this, death can happen, and I’ve seen Elijah kill before. Not something I enjoy remembering.

I would never want Winnie to know about this side of her brother, and I’m guessing he feels the same.

Elijah ducks and dodges every punch thrown his way. He has speed on most of the guys he fights, but usually, the other guys pack more of a punch. Lincoln is huge, with arms probably double the size of Elijah’s, and I know every punch he takes fucking hurts.

Elijah ducks under him and comes out behind. He kicks him in the back, and Lincoln stumbles forward. Elijah uses that time to jump on his back, then jabs his elbow into his neck three times until Lincoln drops to his knees. Then Elijah pulls his knee back and slams it into his face.

When Lincoln drops to the ground and they call the fight, my mouth is hanging open.

“You’re buying the ’za tonight.” Schmidt slaps my back on our way out of the building after I collect my money. Everyone else bet against Elijah, like every time, but I bet they are regretting it because I’m five thousand dollars richer than them currently.

“Fair enough.” I grin.

We head for Sawyer’s truck but stop when the sound of gagging fills the air around us. It’s hard to see anything with it being so dark, but there’s a small light from the end of a cigarette, and without going to look, I know who is getting their dick sucked.

“Let’s go,” I mutter, not really wanting to hear Elijah get off.

We just get to Sawyer’s truck when he calls after us.

I freeze with the door handle still in my hand.

“Lose some money tonight?” he asks bitterly.

“Actually—” Brogan starts, but I cut him off with a harsh stare. If Elijah knew I bid on him, he’d be pissed.

Turning, I stand face-to-face with the guy I once considered a brother. He’s still shirtless, covered in even more tattoos than the last time I saw him, and puffing on a cigarette.

“Good fight,” I comment.

His jaw tightens, and his eyes flick over my shoulder. “You.” He nods in Sawyer’s direction.

“What?” Sawyer asks, probably as confused as I am.

“Yeah.” Elijah walks around the truck, stomping on the cigarette as he does. As soon as he’s in arm’s reach of Sawyer, his fist bolts out, and he smokes him in the nose.

“Fuck!” Sawyer cups his face, but he’s on Elijah a second later, slamming his fist against his face. Elijah slips from under him and backs away, breathing hard and looking around at the four of us as if we are the enemy. I guess right now, we are. I wouldn’t willingly fight Elijah, but he just socked Sawyer in the face for no reason.

“What the fuck?” I bark out.

“That’s for fucking my sister.” Elijah spits a wad of blood onto the ground, and I realize he’s not looking at me. And it wasn’t me he punched—this time.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sawyer snaps, still holding his nose.

What the fuck is he talking about?

“She told me about the night she went out. You fucked her without telling her you’re not fucking single.”

She told him what? Sawyer darts a look at me, but I don’t have the answers for him.

“What else did she say?” I ask, hoping to find out what the hell is happening right now.

“Does it matter?” he barks before turning the opposite way. “Oh, by the way, if you were wondering why she hates you.” He spins but continues walking backward. “I told her how big of a piece of shit you are.”

“What did you tell her?” I growl and step forward. He’s down the street, but I can see him shrug from here with the help of the streetlights bouncing off his pale skin.

“Only the truth. Night, boys. Stay the fuck away from my sister.”

Then he’s gone. Around the back of the building. Sawyer turns, no longer bleeding, but his face is fucked, no less. He’s for sure going to have two black eyes.

“Why the fuck did your girl tell him we fucked?”

That’s a good fucking question. It wasn’t Sawyer’s bed she was in that night. It was mine, so why did she lie? The obvious answer is Elijah despises me and only hates Sawyer, but that still doesn’t make sense why she is telling her brother who she fucked anyway. Not unless there was a reason she had to, but that doesn’t make sense either.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, though.”

“If Amy hears, she’s going to lose her fucking shit, and I’m letting you pick up that call.”

Fucking thanks, Win.

“Let’s get some ice and ’za. Practice is going to come around early.”

I jump into my seat, and Sawyer takes his. The other two guys already loaded into the back.

“What’s he mean about you being a p-o-s?” Brogan asks. “How do you know him?”

I’ve done my best to keep my old life and this one separate, especially from someone like Brogan, who I’m not that close to. He’s on the team, but he’s sort of a dick. The only time we hang out is during fight nights.

I should have known Winnie being in town would dig it all back up and expose me to the people I have been close to for the last two years. That it would be impossible to keep everything separate anymore.

“We grew up across the street from each other.” Bright lights flash and blur as Pinecove’s nightlife passes by outside the window. “There was a point I considered Elijah a brother.”

“What happened?” Sawyer asks, glancing in my direction.

I could blame my dad, and it would probably be true, to a point. But a few weeks after Christopher’s death, Elijah caught me outside practicing slap shots and joined me. We didn’t say anything, but after that night, things were better between us. Not great, but better. We probably would have made a full recovery if it wasn’t for the night of that fucking party.

“Zoey happened,” I ground out.

“Zoey? Like, Zoey Miller?”

I nod. “She was into me back in high school—”

Schmidt snorts. “You say that like she’s not still.”

“Yeah, well, my feelings for her never changed. I have never liked her or felt remotely the same. Eventually, she and Eli started dating.” My fists tighten. “Long story short, she set me up. Made it look like we slept together and had Elijah catch us.”

“Crazy bitch,” Sawyer gasps.

“I told you.” I warned them all to stay the fuck away from her as soon as her dad mentioned her coming to school here after she graduated from high school.

“But how did she stage it?” Brogan asks.

I shrug. “We were all at a party. I drank a lot and found a room to sleep in. Sometime during the night, she snuck in, took off all her clothes, and crawled in with me. Elijah walked in the next morning and saw us.”

I’ll never forget the look on his face. So much hatred. We were just getting back to normal, and Zoey ruined it all.

“Are you sure you didn’t actually fuck, though?” Sawyer glances my way.

I nod. “Yeah. I hated her. I would have never, even drunk.”

The truck falls silent, and I sigh. “My heart has always laid with one girl, and it’s not Zoey. I’ve never slept with anyone other than Winnie, no matter how drunk I get.”

Each guy takes a turn questioning me on my two-year celibacy and how it was possible, but I don’t have an answer for them. It was easy because none of the girls who showed interest were Winnie. Simple as that.

“None of that makes sense as to why he thinks we fucked, though.”

No, it doesn’t. Sawyer’s right. “I don’t know, man, but I’ll find out.”

“You don’t think Zoey, like, jumped her when she left our place and filled her head with crazy stuff, do you?” Schmidt asks.

My stomach threatens to expel everything I’ve eaten today. The thought of Zoey filling Winnie’s head with lies is something I could have seen coming. She’s crazy enough, but I hadn’t been thinking about her.

“Maybe Zoey saw you two together and threatened to tell her brother,” Sawyer offers.

“And because Elijah hates your guts, she said it was Sawyer,” Schmidt adds.

“She should have said me. I’d never let that dick punch me.”

Sawyer and I swap looks because we both know Brogan is the biggest pussy on the team.

At a red light, Sawyer tugs down his mirror to eye the damage. “How am I meant to explain two black eyes to Amy when we video call tomorrow?”

“Hockey,” the three of us say. It’s more than believable. I don’t know one hockey player who hasn’t had a black eye or something close at some point. Brogan is missing two teeth, for fuck’s sake, so I know he has been hit in the face. Injuries are more than common.

Sleep doesn’t come easy to me. My head is spinning with everything I learned today. Everything we talked about makes sense—too much sense—and just imagining what Winnie is thinking about me right now is enough to drive me insane. I drop my arm over my eyes and urge sleep to come. The quicker I can get to sleep, the quicker practice will come, and I can hopefully fix things with Winnie.