by Izzy Sweet
“Oh,” I say brilliantly. And yeah, that kind of gives me more information. “When do you go back?”
“Home?” he asks, and there’s a hitch in his voice when he says that word, home.
“Well, I meant school, but either.”
I really and truly almost don’t want him going back home. It’s fucked up how weird that is to think.
“I get nine weeks for summer break then I head back. I’ll be going into gifted seventh grade,” he says with a small shrug of his shoulders.
I give him a light punch to the shoulder. “Damn, man, that’s awesome.”
“Not really, I don’t like gifted classes. Everything is so much faster, and it’s like they’re trying to shove books directly into my head. Every night it’s homework and computer work. And since I’m really good at math and science, they drown me in it,” he grumps out.
“Yeah, but you’d be bored to tears in the regular classes,” I say, trying to find a bright lining.
Casey throws the last of his clothing in a drawer with a huff. “That’s what Grandma says, but I miss my old friends. Not like it matters. Grandma left me here with you until I graduate college.”
Fuck.
“I seriously doubt it’s like that, Casey…” I say but trail off because I don’t exactly know what it is like.
Fuck. Me.
Information would be so helpful right now. I could especially use a timeline of what the fuck I’m signed up for.
Casey just grunts and plops down on the bed. “She and Avery both want me here. They said I needed to have a new perspective on things. I probably shouldn’t have called Grandma a bitch, either.”
I drawl out the word, “Yeah.” Then I shake my head. “That might have been a bad move.”
Nodding his head, he looks up at me. “Do you think she hates me?”
How many times do I have to look into those eyes and see Tommy staring back at me?
“No, Little Beast, not at all. She couldn’t hate you any more than she could force herself to stop breathing. She loves you with every ounce of her heart,” I say as I take a seat next to him.
“Then why did she send me here?”
Fuck, I wish I knew the answer to that because for the life of me I can’t think of what I have to offer.
“Because I’m family and she thinks we’ll help each other heal,” I say and wrap my arm around him.
“Maybe.”
The knowledge that there’s so much more going through his head and heart eats at me. Eats away at my heart just like all the pain and hurt I’ve buried deep down inside.
“We will, one punch at a time. I’m a big fan of fighting my way through bad shit,” I say and raise my hand up to him, showing him my knuckles.
There’s a lot of scarring on them. Lord knows, I’ve kept my past pretty damn secret, but there was a time I didn’t fight in the legal bouts.
“I thought you had to wear gloves,” he says with confusion.
“Yeah, those scars aren’t exactly the good kind. I fought through just about everything I could to get the hell out of what I was living in,” I say, and I did.
I fought for my daily bread at times when I couldn’t face the prospect of going back home to my dad.
Tommy’s parents took care of me as much as they could, but the law still insisted I went home as much as my dad wanted me there. I was his little welfare check.
I still needed new clothes and sparring gear though when I was hitting my late teens, so I fought in the underground circuits for a couple years. I made quick money for myself, even if Tommy was begging me to go legal. But shit was needed.
No need for Casey to know all my past misdeeds, though. Maybe when he’s older he’ll understand.
“Point is, you and me are the same. We’re going to fight through all the shit and pain we have coming at us. We’re going to punch and kick our way out of this shit, and when we can’t see anything else besides the pain, we’ll be stronger for it,” I say before wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders.
Sometimes I wonder if I have that magic that Helen had when she’d hug me and I’d feel the strength and will to keep going.
“Promise?” Casey asks.
“I promise, but it’s going to hurt us every single step of the way. Every single one. I wish I was able to lie to you and say it won’t. Can’t though, because working out alone is going to kill us both.”
“Um, why am I going to be working out? I thought you were talking figuratively just then,” he says with a slight groan.
“Cause we both fucked up too much. We need to get back on the straight and narrow.”
“Doesn’t explain why I have to work out.”
Pulling away from him, I spend a long time looking at his eyes and the small features of his face. Am I doing the right thing right now? Am I projecting?
Fuck, I wish Tommy was here just for three minutes. Just long enough to hear his voice tell me what I should do. What his hopes and dreams were.
Did Tommy ever want me to quit fighting? To give up this life and try for something else? Would he want his son to be anything like me? I see so damn much of Tommy in Casey right now. So damn much that I can barely keep my eyes open without fucking waterfalls coming out of them.
Casey isn’t Tommy though, he’s his own self. He’s got a life ahead of him that Tommy doesn’t. One that’s on a path of his own choosing. Should I give a kid his age the choice to be who he wants?
“What do you want to do when you get older?” I ask.
“Huh?” he asks like I’m crazy.
Standing up from the bed, I pull him with me. “What do you dream about when you think of growing older?”
“I don’t know?” he asks and says at the same time, his shoulders rising in a shrug.
Motioning for him to follow me, I head out of the bedroom and back down the hall to the kitchen. “What if I said you could be a fighter like me? Or a teacher? Maybe a computer game designer. Firefighter? Police Officer?”
“Honestly?” he asks.
Entering the kitchen, I walk over to the pantry and start searching for garbage bags. “You look in the fridge and cabinets. Start loading up any bottle with alcohol on the counter.”
“Why?” he asks.
Damn, this kid likes monosyllabic responses.
“We’ve got shit to do. You called Helen a bitch, what was the punishment?” I ask as I locate the bags and start pulling out multiple ones.
I’ll have to use one of those delivery places to restock this kitchen.
“Oh… I lost my PlayStation for a week,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.
“And you were shipped off to me because of that?” I ask with doubt in my voice.
“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles quietly.
“Fair enough. Well, we’re going to clean this house up. This is part of your punishment for calling her that.”
“Fair enough,” he says right back.
“Good, since this is your new home for the foreseeable, I want us to keep it like a home. Not the gutter I’ve been treating it.”
“Okay,” he says and gives me another shrug of the shoulders.
“Back to my question, though. What would you want to be when you grow up? Don’t worry if you can’t pick something, but think about it. We’re going to get you there. I’ve never wanted anything more than to be a fighter, but that’s not what I am right now.”
Fuck, I feel like I’ve got diarrhea of the mouth and brain. Maybe I’m preaching more to myself than the choir though.
“What are you now?” he asks.
“A broken, lush, waste of space,” I say immediately, and I feel like I’m being a little too damn honest.
“Wow,” he says. “Grandma doesn’t like it when I say bad things about myself like that.”
“You should never say bad things about yourself, only honest things. Right now, I am those things, but I’m not going to let myself be that anymore,” I say and start
pouring out the bottles of alcohol into the sink.
My brain feels like it wants to go down with all the sweet, blissful numbing chemicals.
“So why are you forcing me to work out with you?” he asks.
“Because I saw the fire in your eyes when you were at the gym. You’ve got the bug in you.”
The same exact one I used to have in me.
Training montage, training montage, training montage. Those are the two words that keep running through my mind as the ringing in my ears grows louder and louder.
I wish I was in some fucking movie right now. Something where I could do a superfast time-lapse of the pure fucking hell I’m in.
Five-thirty in the morning came way too early for me, and getting Casey up at six wasn’t a pleasure either. Little guy has a mouth on him at that time of the morning. So do I, though, so we made it through our pre-run warmups without threatening too much violence.
It was when I dropped him off at the mile-and-a-half mark around the house that I knew I was in for hell today. I haven’t run five miles in months, and it fucking showed. I’m pretty sure when I barfed in some poor sap’s bushes at the three-mile mark that I left part of my spleen. I didn’t eat much the night before, but damn, I sure did throw up everything I had in me.
The forced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and plain baked chicken… sucked. Protein, protein, protein.
Ugh, fuck.
“Keep your damn legs up!” Dale screams at me just as I feel my core screaming its final death notes.
“F... Fuck you!” I grunt out at him.
“That’s right, pansy boy! Talk some smack, that’s all you’ve got,” Dale cackles as he drops a light weight ball on my stomach.
The air threatens to woof out of me as I try to maintain a clenched core and keep my legs up in the six inches of hell position he has me in.
“You smell that, Chase?” Dale asks the big asshole beside him.
“What’s that?” Chase asks.
“That’s the smell of pussy coming out of his pores!” Dale cackles again.
“Dale!” Avery shouts from the other side of the gym.
“Dammit,” Dale grouches before looking down at my panting ass.
Oh shit.
“Pushups, and don’t you let that little beer gut touch the floor!” Dale snarls at me.
“What the fuck?” I ask as I try to slowly roll over to my stomach.
I think I’m fucking dying.
He snarls. “You got me in trouble.”
“But…” I wheeze out.
“That’s ten more, asshole. And if I get in trouble again, I’m just gonna keep adding,” Dale says before he shouts, “Casey, get your sticks over here now!”
Well, at least I’ll be in good company, I think as he tells Casey to drop.
“What did I do?” Casey whines.
“You think I didn’t hear about what you said to that sainted woman, Helen?” Chase asks.
“Shit,” Casey whispers to me.
Unable to help myself, I snicker at Casey. “Yeah, this is probably going to hurt.”
“Up!” Dale shouts.
Shit.
“Stay there, gentlemen. And I’m using that term loosely,” Dale says.
“Crap,” I grunt when I’m up.
I figured I’d be doing pushups. Nope, Dale is going for pure torture.
“Down,” Dale says, then without giving us a break, “up!”
Fuck. I keep reminding myself I’m doing this for all the right reasons. Bree’s watching, and for the life of me I can’t let her see me fail.
Something about that damn kiss yesterday has set my ass on fire. It’s like all the pain, the hate, the self-doubt, the black abyss, was pushed far away from me.
She burned something deep down inside of me with the way she connected to my soul.
Last night, while lying in bed, I was tormented by the past and future. I could see so many ways that everything could go wrong. And I could see all the horrible ways they could maybe go right.
Casey, no matter what, will be in that picture though. Can Bree accept that?
I know he’s supposed to be here for the summer, but I’m thinking I need to keep him a bit longer. He needs to have a male figure in his life that can keep up with him. One who he knows will keep him in check. His grandparents were doing the best they could, but they need to heal and be able to rely on someone too.
I don’t know what the future will hold, but I want to keep Bree and Casey with me.
That’s another thing I keep forgetting.
Looking up when I hope I won’t get caught, I get to look at Bree for the briefest of moments. And looking at her fills me with the energy I need to raise and hold myself in position.
She’s fucking beautiful, and it’s like her lips call to my soul. They call for me to get up, go over there, and sweep her up into my arms. They call for me to kiss the living fuck out of her and then drag her back to my cave and…
“What the fuck are you looking at, runt?” Chase snarls into my ear as I feel his big meaty paws pushing down on my shoulders.
“My fut—”
The fucker starts to push even harder down on me.
My arms start to fucking shake from his weight, but one more look at Bree and I lock them and hold strong.
“My future… you fucking fat bitch,” I say with a very forced laugh.
“I don’t think so,” he growls so deep in my ear it fucking vibrates me.
Before I know what happens, he pushes all of his fucking weight down on me and I collapse onto the ground.
“Fucker,” I grunt.
“Did I say you could collapse?” Dale barks at me. “Casey, go to the bags. You need to give me fifty kicks with each leg and then sixty punches with each arm.”
Fuck, little dude gets off easy.
“Up!” Dale shouts at me.
Chase is still holding me down as I struggle to raise myself back up, but at least it feels like he isn’t pushing his full weight on me now.
“You want to actually try yet?” Chase asks. “You know Jamey’s not taking this fucking lightly. He’s out there right now planning on ripping your other shoulder off.”
“Fuck him!” I snarl and push all the way up.
“Down!” Dale shouts, then, “up!”
With each reputation Chase growls out what Jamey’s doing and it only infuriates me more. I’m going to fucking tear that piece of shit limb from fucking limb. I’ll fucking kill Jamey in the damn ring. I’m not going to just go for the win. I’m going to punish him every single second and every single round.
“Stand up!” Dale shouts at me.
Getting in my face, Dale stares at my panting, ragged ass. Long seconds pass between us as he searches my soul. “You want to fight now? You want to hurt him?”
“Yes,” I snarl.
“You want to use all that hatred and rage? You want to face every single fucking demon in you out there on the mat? Are you ready for that?” he asks so fucking quietly I can barely hear him over the ragged gasps of air that come from my lungs.
“Yes,” I say after I think about everything I’ll have to actually be in order to do that.
“Good,” Dale says before turning away from me.
Raising my hands to the back of my head, I take in huge lungfuls of air.
Fuck, I feel like I’m dying.
Looking at the backs of Chase and Dale as they start to walk away, I feel that doubt they have in me. I feel the mistrust they have for my words. They think I’ll fucking fall, and they’d be right if I didn’t also see Casey kicking the heavy bag with all his heart.
I’d fucking fall down if it wasn’t for him and Bree.
Casting a glance at Bree, I spot her looking at me with worry, like she’s afraid I’ll keel over at any minute.
Not going to happen. I have to make sure I put my body through hell now so that when I finally get those legs of hers around my waist, I ruin any chance of her finding any other man wort
hy.
She’s fucking mine, that kiss sealed the deal. I’m not sure if she knows it yet, but she will. Hopefully she’s good with the readymade family that’s coming her way.
Casey and me are a package deal.
Doesn’t matter if it’s before I fight Jamey or after, I’m also going to get that little bitch that tried to hurt her. He’ll be fucking lucky if I don’t put him in the ground.
“Did I say you were finished?” Dale turns back to face me. “Get on the fucking heavy bags. One hundred strikes from each arm and foot.”
Well, shit. This is going to be a long fucking day.
But with Bree in my sights, nothing’s going to stop me.
Chapter Ten
Bree
When my head finally hit the pillow last night, I had the foolish hope that when I woke up everything would be better in the light of morning. That I’d somehow be able to fix everything if I got some rest and could think clearly.
After all, they say sleeping on a problem is the best way to solve it.
Unfortunately, when I woke up and remembered everything that happened, I still had no answers.
If anything, with all my problems crammed together, they loom even larger.
Tristan, my father…
Emmett.
Together, they’re a mountain I’m afraid I don’t have the strength or stamina to scale without plummeting to my destruction.
But I know if I don’t even try, I’ll be left here, dangling, on the constant brink of slipping, of losing my grip and falling...
At least that’s what it feels like at the moment.
Especially as I stare at Emmett. Stare and watch as he pushes his body to the breaking point.
I’ve managed to avoid him all morning. Managed to avoid all the sharp, questioning looks he was throwing my way. But now that I’m stuck at the front desk on door duty, there’s no pretending what happened last night didn’t happen.
There’s no pretending as his eyes lock on mine, burning with a promise that we’re not finished yet.
I don’t know if the guys are purposely trying to humiliate him or make a spectacle, but they’ve got him set up front and center in the gym as they hurl challenge after challenge at him.
