Chapter 6
Chapter Six
EVIE
"He did what!" Lou shrills into the phone.
"Helped watch the boys and look after me until my fever broke. No biggie," I say, hoping my nonchalant tone will deter the conversation.
"I’ve known that big bastard for most of my life. Trust me, it’s a biggie," Lou exaggerates.
"Well, I didn't have much choice, besides Mercy was here as well. Maddox hung around, quietly blending in the shadows until Mercy offered to help bathe me. Then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him," I tell her while attempting to plate Vic some leftover meatloaf.
Mercy was only trying to make me feel better. He could tell how uncomfortable I was with waking from my fever dream to realize it was no damn dream. I told Maddox a quick thank you before checking on the boys and taking a quick shower. I’m not about to tell her Maddox carried me to bed or made sure I took medicine because I’m still not sure how I feel about it. He may have been gruff, but the man carried me like precious cargo, confusing the hell out of me.
"Besides Lou, my boys were scared. I hate I did that to them," I say softly.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Eves but Sophie?—"
"No, don't do that. Nobody knew I'd get sick. Plus, it worked itself out."
After wrapping up the leftovers, I reassure Lou I'm okay for the twentieth time before hanging up. Picking up the plate, I head to Vic's to get the boys and drop Vic's lunch for tomorrow. I catch wind of Vic's conversation with the boys when I open the door.
"Mama has nightmares too. Did she fight in a war like you?'
"For her, it was war," Vic tells my son gently.
I freeze, unable to move, not wanting to hear their conversation but also unable to walk any further.
"Your mama is brave, but sometimes even the bravest people need help."
"That's why we sleep with her when we hear her crying, to help her be extra brave," I hear Bash's voice ringing with pride. I had no idea that my boys knew about my nightmares, but I'm not surprised, they're observant as hell.
Pushing through the pain eating away at my heart, I walk on in with a smile plastered on my face. "Alright, you two, tell Vic bye. We need to head home and get the dirt washed off your faces before bed."
They each take turns wrapping Vic in a hug before heading out the door. Vic gives me a knowing look. "It's not polite to eavesdrop, woman."
Nothing gets past Vic. "I wasn't."
Vic looks at me thoughtfully. "You're a fucking fighter, Evie. Acting as anything else spits on those who fought like hell and didn't make it. Stop living behind that fear and grab life by the balls!"
That old demon fear laughs at me, which pisses me off. I'm sick of people telling me how transparent I am. I feel like all I've fought like hell to keep hidden has been dragged out for people to pick apart at auction.
"I'll get right on that, Vic! I'll box my demons up, send them on their merry way, and tell the devil who's looking for me he can stop because I'm too busy embracing life now," I spit out sarcastically.
I spin on my heel and head for the door. "Wait a minute!" he calls after me.
"Night, Victor. Love you," I call over my shoulder as I close the door and head home. I’m not upset with him, I’m more upset with myself than anything because he’s right, and because Vic loves me, he told me just like it is, and to hell with my feelings.
The problem is I don’t know how to embrace life. How do you embrace life without the fear of the other shoes dropping? In my case, the other shoe is evil fucking personified, and if he ever finds me, I’ll end up far worse than being his human punching bag.
"You let another man touch you? You fucking enjoyed it, didn't you," he snarls, sharply jerking my face upwards, forcing me to look at him.
"Petal, why do you make me like this?" He squeezes my face tighter as if trying to crush it. I hate that damn name.
A whimper escapes before I can stop it.
Loosening his grip on my face, he licks the tear up that slides down my face. "He wanted you, and you let him put his filthy hands all over you, inside you.”
"He's a gynecologist, Trent. I had to have a checkup after losing the baby," I whisper.
Everything suddenly goes black.
I'm naked on our bed when I come to, my wrist and ankles tied down. My face is throbbing, and I know he hit me hard enough to knock me out.
Trent’s staring at me from the foot of our bed, his face void of any emotion. I swallow hard, my body begins to sweat, and acid burns in my belly. Panic begins running ramped through my body, but I know better than to let it show. This is bad. Very fucking bad. I learned long ago that his rage wasn’t when he would hurt me the most. It was in his silence he would do it.
He walks to the end of our bed, tracing along my foot with a cold finger. "Petal, I realized today I’ve been neglecting you and your needs for some time now. I plan to remedy that tonight by giving you a night you'll never forget." Giving me a predatory smile, he crawls into the bed between my legs.
I feel his hard teeth bite right into my soft flesh. I open my mouth and scream, as he bites down harder each time .
This is a horrible idea, I tell myself as I stand frozen in front of The Boxing Den. The neon sign seems to be more of a warning than welcoming now that I’m here.
After that horrific nightmare, I woke up more than determined to come here this morning. I would do everything to protect my children, and I knew coming here was a step in the right direction. I can do this. I had to do this for them.
Just as I convince myself to walk in, a familiar pair of eyes meet mine through the glass door causing me to clutch my chest. To be so big, the man is stealthy as a cat. Does the man smile or even look slightly surprised to see me here? Nope. Maddox stands with his massive arms crossed over his chest, sizing me up. After a few seconds, he opens the door for me and tilts his head, gesturing for me to come inside.
Taking a deep breath, I walk in, brushing his arm as I pass by. I can't help the shiver that runs through my body. Something about the soft click of the door closing behind me makes me second guess what the hell I’m doing. My anxiety is high, causing my heart to hammer in my chest like I just ran the Boston Marathon. Maddox's mouth is moving, but his voice sounds muffled and far away.
"What?"
"I said do you want Monday or Thursday classes with Mercy?"
I meet his gaze. "What do you mean with Mercy?"
Maddox's gaze softens just slightly. The corner of his mouth that's scarred twitches, and I feel some tension leave my body. "The only word you heard out of that was Mercy?" His tone may have been stern, but his expression was almost playful, almost.
I nervously push my hair behind my ear. "Well, we are friends. Not BBFs, but it won't be long until we're braiding each other's hair and making matching friendship bracelets. Plus, he's fallen in love with my cooking, so I doubt I'm getting rid of him now."
His handsome face puckers like he just sucked a lemon. "Don't forget the sponge baths," he leers down at me, his green eyes shining brighter than usual.
My face glows bright red. "The…what!"
"He was more than ready to bathe you the other day,” he grits out.
This asshole! Who does Maddox think he is? "He was just joking around! I was sick and he was trying to make me feel better."
I've never been the aggressive type, but the angry baby Hulk standing before me brings it out in me. Where I should be terrified of him, I find myself growing more of a backbone than I've ever had every time he opens that mouth, which is sad because the man has such a sultry mouth. My eyes instantly drop to his lips.
A large hand palms my waist, causing my brain to short-circuit. Our chests are almost brushing, and both of us are breathing hard. Maddox tightens his hand on my waist. "Evie," he grates, and I swear his voice has gotten even deeper.
I flinch and take a small step back to think rationally, not about his warm hands or long fingers or how my skin feels branded from his touch. "So, what exactly does Mercy do here on Mondays and Thursdays? "
"Self-defense classes."
"You think I should take self-defense classes?" Emotion sits heavy my throat. The big grump thinks I should learn to defend myself. I've never been so damn flattered.
"Fuck yeah, I do. Every woman needs to learn to defend themselves."
Embrace life, Evie, fucking embrace life. I chant in my head over and over.
"Mondays will work. Just a heads up for next time, big guy, explain what you mean instead of barking out short commands like a Neanderthal because I could’ve sworn you've been calling me fat the last month."
His fierce gaze slowly sweeps up and down my body. "What the fuck did you just say?"
I put my hands on my hips. "I said I’m pretty sure you've been calling me fat the last month."
Maddox meets my eye. "Woman?—"
I cock an eyebrow. “Woman?” What the hell does he mean woman?
He shoots me with a look that makes me almost swallow my tongue. “Yeah, because your all woman.”
I don’t even have time to process that before Mercy cuts in.
"Well then, say what you mean next time, Mad." Mercy steps through a side door and gives his brother a loaded look before turning his gaze to me. "Evie, I already told you what would happen if we were neighbors and honey, there isn't enough sugar in the next two counties for me to show you how much I'd appreciate your curves.”
Mercy's words take me back, and I can hear Trent as if he was standing in the room with us. "You think somebody could ever appreciate this fat ass body? Petal, you should appreciate the fact that I have the stomach to fuck you."
I wouldn't say I liked this part. The phantom triggers are what I call them. The seemingly ordinary things people can say or do transform that me into a vile memory. Sometimes it's not even a memory; it's as if Trent's standing beside me, whispering in my ear, terrifying me. But I’m so damn tired of living with this fear and building my life around it. Constantly look over my shoulder and on edge. I want to be strong enough to conquer this fear and slay these demons that hang around feeding off me. I want to be strong enough to protect my boys. They’re everything to me.
"No damn crying woman," Maddox barks softly flexing his hands at his sides.
Make no mistake about it, the man is intimidating, but I also feel a sense of security and peace whenever I looked into his eyes. It’s strange for someone you hardly know to make you feel so much. Half the time, I want to run far, far away, and the other half of the time, I want to wrap myself up in those feelings and stay put.
"Tears of joy, Big Guy," I tell him, slipping my mask back into place.
Those brilliant green eyes bore into me not believing me for a damn second. "Change of plans. You'll train with me on Mondays."
I instantly snap my gaze to Mercy standing in the doorway with an amused expression on his face. He meets my raised eyebrows with a shrug. Great, he's going to be no help. "That's okay! I'm sure you have something else to do, and Mercy won't mind. Right, Mercy?"
"Eves, I had this thing with the shop come up, and I won't be available Mondays or Thursdays," he says, giving me that signature crooked grin. Sensing my panic he adds, "Evie, you're in good hands with Maddox, okay?"
Well, hell. I could argue with the mountain in front of me, but just this once, I'm choosing not to. Who better to teach me to defend myself and kick ass?
I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. "What time?"
"Just like that?" Maddox looks at me taken back .
"Well, yeah."
He crosses his arms over his broad chest. "No attitude? Or a sassy ass remark? No telling me to go fuck myself?"
I shake my head. The man is staring at me like he isn’t quite sure he believes me.
"Listen, Maddox. I have things I'm trying to unpack in my life, and just this once, I'm going to trust my gut when it tells me to trust you with this. You're badass, and you know it. You'll see plenty of attitude and sass when you start stomping around like an angry baby hippo pissing me off because we both know you will."
Mercy's laughter fills the room. "Man! I love how that little five-foot-nothing can serve your ass to you on a platter and not break a sweat."
I give Mercy a small smile. "I'm five two and sweat plenty, I'll have you know." The man may be a shameless flirt, but he always seems to know when to help break the tension because Maddox Wilder damn sure makes me sweat.
It would be easier if it was Mercy, whom I have this intense attraction to, with his boyish charm and lopsided grin. There’s zero doubt the man would make me come as much as he made me laugh. Whoever landed Mercy Wilder was one lucky bitch.
After signing a few waivers, I head home. The weight that held me down, shifted a little as if knowing I was gearing up ready to be good and fucking rid of it.
Dressed in black bicycle shorts, a cropped yoga tank with built-in support for the girls, and an oversized T-shirt, I look at my reflection while putting my hair into two French braids. I still don’t recognize the woman looking back at me, but I want to. I want to break free and discover who I am, unburdened by the chains that tie me to the hollow shell I used to be.
Making sure one last time my shorts are long enough to cover the scars marring my inner thighs. I head off to meet Maddox at his gym. I had to rearrange my schedule on Mondays, but once I told Joe what I was doing, she gave me Monday off, insisting I "work too damn much anyways." I choose to work so much, it helps keep my mind busy, but just this once, I didn't argue with her. Joey’s right, it doesn’t hurt to do one thing for me.
Opening the door, I step into the lobby. Not seeing Maddox, I decide to sit and wait. There isn’t a receptionist behind the black marble counter; I wonder if he has hired anyone. I can’t picture anyone being able to work for the grump. He has the mannerisms of a cactus.
"You showed."
Looking up, I see a shirtless, sweaty Maddox standing at the door leading into the gym. How did I not notice the scars on his right side the other night? It looks like he wrestled with a broken window with all the jagged lines running up and down his side. They are raised and angry, with some being more defined than others. "Evie." His large hand closes over mine on his side. I didn't even realize I had stood up, let alone walked over, and begun caressing the man. Horrified, I quickly jerk my hand away and apologize, unable to look at his face.
"Look at me." His rough voice sounds like it's battling between barking at me and trying to be gentle. His hands are limp at his sides, and a part of me knows he's trying to keep his body neutral and non-threatening, so I raise my gaze and look at the scar on his lips. He dips his head causing us to lock eyes.
His angry gaze demands I ask him what happened.
"W-what happened?"
"The result of pulling my dead daughter out of a car window after being hit by a drunk driver," he says quietly.
For a moment, I can see just how broken Maddox is, and then it all snaps into place for me. For him, hiding behind his anger is more manageable than feeling the heartbreak and sorrow that has just filled his handsome face. Maddox can easily see through me because he himself hides so much from everyone. Without thinking, I carefully pull my shirt down to my sternum making sure not to expose my breast. "Forgot to unload the dishwasher." His eyes lock on the neat two-inch scar, and I see the wheels turning. "Paring knife took twenty stitches."
Slowly he lifts his hand and brings it close to the scar and I hold my breath in anticipation. Just before his fingers graze my skin he pulls away, giving me a sharp nod, pushing his glasses in place. "Let's get started," he says and heads into the gym.
His gym looks like CrossFit and boxing had a baby. There are weights, tires, climbing ropes, and punching bags randomly stationed around the room, and two boxing rings on each side. Then there is the bad ass mural Lou had painted in the back with hard reds and fancy script only kicking the atmosphere up another bad ass notch.
"You don't have to do this, you know. I'm sure Mercy can fit time in somewhere," I say, nervously fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. His big body becomes rigid, and he shakes his head, leaving no room for argument.
Maddox leads me to a workout room of sorts with thick mats lining the floor and a handmade sign that says, "At your Mercy!" with a smiley face. That damn Mercy leaves his mark everywhere.
Maddox rolls his eyes. "Mercy thinks he's a fucking comedian."
"He's definitely something. He said he was at my mercy the first time we met."
Putting my purse on the bench that lines one side of the room, I turn back towards Maddox. "Okay, so what first?"
He looks at me intently for a moment. "Take the shirt off."
"What? Why?" What the hell is wrong with him? Just because we had a show-and-tell moment doesn't mean I'm taking my shirt off. A cold sweat covers my body, and I step back.
He crosses his ridiculous arms over his chest. I'm learning this is his "in-charge" stance. "Take the damn shirt off."
"N-no!"
"How the hell am I supposed to teach you self-defense if you don't follow simple instructions?"
"You're demanding me to take my shirt off, Maddox! Not punch a bag or something!"
He pushes his glasses on his head. "Okay, you're right. I'm not good at this, which is why Mercy usually teaches this class."
I cross my arms over my chest and match his stance. "Well, you better try harder to be good at this because I tried to go to Mercy's class, but you insisted on doing this. You, not me." I point my finger at him.
Maddox uncrosses his arms and takes a visible deep breath in and out before stepping closer to me. "Evie, your shirt is too big and can get tangled easily and that could be dangerous as we progress through the moves." He swallows, "The last thing I want is for you to get hurt"—He pauses—"Can you please remove your shirt?"
Well, damn. "Next time just say that.”
Slowly, I take my shirt off and sit it on my purse. I hear Maddox mumble, "Give me strength," as I turn around.
I've always been super self-conscious, so I tug at the bottom of my yoga tank out of habit. I stand in front of him, waiting for instructions, but he stares at me in a way that would melt my panties off.
His hands clench and unclench at his sides. "Evie, can I touch you?"
Knowing I'd have to get used to his hands on me, I give him a slight nod.
When his finger touches my wrist, I jolt not from fear, but surprise. His large hand feels hot on my skin as he slowly trails up my arm until he’s palming my nape.
I flinch back, squeezing my eyes shut as all the memories invade. Trent punching me for answering the phone. Trent slapping me across the face with his sneakers for not saying good morning after his morning run. Trent popping the belt before each time he beat me.
My breathing is rapid, and I know I'm going to black out. That place in my mind that I've hidden out so many times calls to me like a beacon home. Promising to help me escape the pain that's coming.
"Give me those eyes, Evie."
I try so hard to open my eyes, but I can't. My skin feels like a thousand ants are marching all over it. It's funny how trauma affects us all differently. In the unhealthiest way, I choose to ignore mine until it rears its ugly ass face.
"Open those eyes and fucking look at me, Evie," Maddox commands.
My eyes fly open and clash with his. "Tell me five things you can see."
"You," I look around, trying to find something else, "the door, a smiley face."
"Tell me two more."
"My purse and your glasses." I instantly feel all the tension leave my body. "What was that?"
"Coping technique I rely on before a fight to keep me centered. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It helped keep my head clear." I feel his thumb begin to trace the side of my neck soothingly. "You going to let that shirt go anytime today?"
Glancing down, I realize I have my shirt balled up so tightly in my fist I can't feel my fingers. I let the shirt go and flex the blood back into my fingers. This is new ground Maddox and I seem to be on and I’m not sure how I feel about it. A part of me feels at ease, and the other part is terrified because I feel like he’s showing me a small piece of who he is, a piece he doesn’t allow anyone to see anymore, terrifying me because I like this side of him .
"Okay, then get your little ass to the mat, so I can show you the proper way to throw a Hammer fist."
I laugh. "Are you blind? I'm not tiny."
Maddox drops his hand, and I instantly miss his warmth. He walks behind me and turns us so I can see our reflection in the window. "See? Tiny compared to me."
We aren’t touching, but close enough that I can feel his large frame surrounding my own. He is well over a foot taller than me and swamps me with his massive body. Maddox Wilder may scare the hell out of me, but I've noticed the one thing I feel most around him is safe. We stand there just staring at one another in a silent exchange of shared pains.
I take a deep breath. "Maddox, Thank you."
"For what?" he softly whispers, clearly just as affected as I am by this moment.
"For making me feel comfortable with you." I also want to tell him I understand now he wears his grief like an angry spiked collar, not letting anyone close. His anger is from his loss of his daughter because what else is grief but not love with no place to go?
Maddox stares at me tenderly. "You never have to be afraid of me, Evie."
An emotion I haven’t felt in a long time clogs my throat. Deciding we've had enough heavy stuff for the day, I turn and look at him. "Alright, teach me to throw a good right hook. I want to put a guy's dick in the dirt."
I stand with my hands up in what I hope resembled a fighter’s stance, waiting for Maddox to bark at me, but instead, he does something I don't expect at all. He ducks his chin and laughs. That thick black hair falls into his face, and he brushes it back. "Woman, you’re something else."
Yeah, my panties instantly become soaked, and I learn one important thing: I am utterly screwed.