by Elle Keating
Letting Go
Copyright 2021 © Elle Keating
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained.
Editing: Mary Yakovets
Formatting: Integrity Formatting
Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Also by Elle Keating
About the Author
Chapter One
Brennan
Brennan stared at the white porcelain sink, now stained with droplets of his blood. He looked up and inspected the gash above his right eye in the mirror. This one would require stitches, and it pissed him off. He grabbed a towel from his duffel bag and tried to stop the bleeding.
“Better have that looked at.”
Brennan turned and faced a man who was neither his friend nor his enemy. He was simply Tony, the man who organized all of this. These underground fights required a tremendous amount of planning. They were never held in the same place twice. And the fighters? He suspected they were men who craved, needed the same thing Brennan did. A distraction, an outlet, an escape… from himself and the thoughts that ravaged his mind, thoughts that could easily take him over if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t have time for this shit,” Brennan said.
“You need…”
“Stitches… I know.” Brennan stuffed the towel into his bag and exchanged it for a hoodie. He wrangled it over his head only to find Tony staring at him, a wad of cash in his hand.
“You scored big tonight. That mean motherfucker never saw it coming.”
Brennan had faced bigger opponents in the ring, but the man he had laid out in less than a minute had fought dirty, attempting to hit him below the belt at least twice. The animal had even tried to pull a Mike Tyson and bite his ear off. It was a disappointment.
Brennan took the money but didn’t bother to count it. He didn’t need it to survive. He had enough to last him several lifetimes. He would deposit it tomorrow into his account and then transfer it to the same charity he had donated to every month for the past several years. Brennan made his way out of the makeshift locker room.
“Why do you fight?”
Brennan stopped in his tracks. Tony had never questioned his motives before, what drove him into the ring every four weeks or so. He met Tony’s gaze and Tony quickly looked away. The sixty-something-year-old man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Good night, Tony.” Brennan hustled out of the abandoned warehouse, avoiding others as they prepared for their fights and found his truck in the lot. He raked his hand through his hair, accidentally grazing his wound in the process and he winced. Fucking hell. He needed to get this taken care of.
Brennan flew along the Garden State Parkway as there were few cars on the road at this time of night. As he neared his exit, he realized that his needing stiches may not be his only problem. He wasn’t sure if Charlotte was working tonight at Seabridge Urgent Care, but he didn’t want to take the chance. The last thing he needed was to run into an ex-fuck. Even though he had told her before they had slept together that it was a one-time thing, something she had consented to, afterward he had seen it in her eyes. She had wanted more. And that was never going to happen. Not with her. Not with any woman. He rarely slept with the same woman twice. Never led them on. And never made any promises.
Brennan drove to a different clinic. It was a little out of his way, but he figured better safe than sorry. He checked in at reception and took a seat. He was just about to withdraw his phone from his pocket and text his right-hand man at his restaurant when his name was called. A woman, twenty, twenty-two years old at the most, smiled at him as he rose from his seat. “Brennan McGinnis?” she asked.
He gave her a smile and her cheeks flushed. “That’s me.”
“Oh… good… um… follow me. I’ll take you… I mean, I’ll show you to your room,” she fumbled. Christ, he may only be twenty-eight, but this girl was way too young for him. He followed her into one of the rooms and sat on the bed. “I’ll just check your vitals. Can you take off your sweatshirt for me?” He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and offered his right arm to her. She stared at his bicep and licked her lips. He cleared his throat and she practically leaped for the blood pressure cuff hanging from a hook on the wall. “Sorry, let’s just get this on you.” Her eyes remained fixed on what she was doing, and he took a deep breath. “One twenty over seventy-two. Perfect,” she said, peeling the Velcro free.
Despite his lifestyle, his raging thoughts, and his unhealthy vices, his blood pressure was always right where it should be. The nurse quickly ran a thermometer across his forehead. “No fever.” He nodded and she giggled. “So the doctor should be in soon. We’re not that busy.”
“Thank you,” he said. She swiped her clipboard off the counter and then stumbled on what appeared to be nothing as she made her way to the door.
Keep walking, a little more.
Brennan took out his phone and pretended to read his texts, then he heard what he had feared would happen. “My shift ends in a few minutes. Want to grab a drink?” Brennan peered up at her. She was pretty in that girl-next-door kind of way, but she had a major strike against her. She was way too innocent for him.
“Sorry, but I had a long day. Just need to get this taken care of so I can go home and sleep.” He flashed her a smile which caused her skin to blotch. He didn’t mean to embarrass her. She had put herself out there and asked him out, but there was no way he was going to take her up on her offer. He loved fucking, but he wasn’t an asshole.
“Sure… I understand. I’ll tell the doctor that you’re ready for her.” She dashed out of the exam room and he sighed. Several minutes later, he heard a knock at the door. He was in the middle of telling whoever was on the other side to enter when in walked a woman who made his words catch in his throat.
“Mr. McGinnis, I’m Dr. Bowman. I’ll be treating you tonight.” She walked over to him, her gait confident, her head held high, a direct contrast from the nurse who had taken his vitals a few minutes ago. She set the iPad that she was carrying on the counter next to the table he was perched on. “So what do we have here?” she asked, her eyes zeroing in on the cut above his eye. He tried to speak, but the second she touched his chin and tilted it up he was rendered speechless. She inspected the gash while he inspected her. The way her white coat hid her curves. Her long auburn hair, blue eyes that almost matched his own, skin that looked so soft, skin that he wanted to touch. “What happened?” she asked, releasing his chin and meeting his gaze
.
“Boxing,” he said. Someone must have been looking out for him because he didn’t know how he got that word out.
“Boxing,” she said with a quirked brow. “This looks fresh. Where do you box?”
“At a twenty-four-hour gym.” She gave him a small smile, one that looked more like a smirk and then turned and retrieved a pair of latex gloves from a box on the counter.
This wasn’t his first set of stiches and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. He didn’t even flinch when she cleaned his wound. One because he was used to this, two because he was too focused on her to care about the pain. As she leaned in to numb the area he breathed her in, her subtle perfume. She smelled like flowers mixed with soap. The scent went straight to his cock and his jaw clenched.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked, her hand now hovering right over his cut.
Yes, in the best possible way.
“No, I’m fine.” He swallowed hard and tried to think of things that would make the man downstairs deflate.
“You have a matching pair now,” she said, her gaze drifting to his other eyebrow. He had busted up his face over a year ago and had the scars to prove it. “Let me guess… boxing.”
“Boxing.” She glanced at him briefly and gave him a I-think-you’re-bullshitting-me look and then went back to work. He was captivated by her. Usually by now he would have already asked her out and shamelessly flirted with her. But in this moment, he was only capable of spitting out one-word responses. What was wrong with him? Yes, she was stunning and sexy as hell. The way she carried herself was also a major turn-on. But something wasn’t lining up. He was struggling to form coherent sentences.
That ends now. I am Brennan McGinnis. World renowned chef. Owner of Lucrezia Restaurant. I am rich and have fucked countless women. Wake the fuck up!
“Do you live on the island?” he asked.
“Yes, moved here a few months ago. Stone Harbor is beautiful,” she said. His eyes traveled to her lips. He wanted to taste them. “How about you?” she asked. He looked up and she caught him staring at her mouth. She blushed and he felt his confidence starting to return. About fucking time. Finally, she was affected by him.
“Yes, I live here year-round. Nothing like the Jersey shore.”
“I would have to agree with you,” she said, finishing up. She grabbed a mirror and held it in front of him. “The scar should be minimal.” Minimal his ass. He had never seen a set of stiches so clean. “I can send you home with some medication for the pain if you…”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, setting the mirror down on the table next to him. She bit her lip and took a step back. He gave her a smile and then she turned and went to the computer across the room.
“I’ll just print out your discharge papers so you can be on your way.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard at inhuman speed and suddenly three sheets of yellow paper were in her hand. She briskly walked over and handed them to him. “Follow the instructions if you begin to feel discomfort.”
He scanned the paperwork and found her name. “I will. Thank you, Anna.” With that he hopped down, snatched his sweatshirt off the bed, and headed out the door without a second glance. Once outside he took a deep breath, let the cool November air wash over him and sprinted to his truck, all the while wondering what just happened in that urgent care room.
***
Anna
“Thank you, Anna.”
She couldn’t get those words out of her head. Not during the last hour of her shift and not as she pulled into her driveway. She shut her Honda CRV off and stared ahead.
Brennan McGinnis.
Why did that name sound familiar? His face, his voice? God, his voice. She had been able to keep it together, examine him, even engage in small talk as she sewed him up. But the second he had said her name in that gravelly tone, she lost it. Which was both pathetic and surprising. She had been on autopilot for so long she had forgotten what it felt like. To be turned on, to look at a man and feel something, to want. It wasn’t healthy for a thirty-one-year-old to feel as if she had been sent out to pasture. And she had only herself to blame for that, for being extremely single and let’s face it… numb.
Anna exited her car and entered her two-story Cape Cod to be immediately accosted by Mack. She squatted and gave him some love. Mack had only come into her life nine months ago but now she couldn’t imagine being without her five-year-old Golden Retriever. Coming home after a double shift to this big guy always put a smile on her face. “Did Jenna come over and take you for a W-A-L-K?” Mack may not be the best trained dog, but he knew the word walk. And that word drove him into a frenzy. Something she wasn’t in the mood to deal with at one in the morning. Thank god the family next door had a teenaged daughter who wanted to earn a few bucks and walk Mack when Anna worked late. Not only did it prevent her from coming home to a puddle of pee on her floor, Mack was able to get some exercise.
Anna slipped off her shoes and threw her scrubs into the wash. Mack was at her heels as he followed her around the house. Her eyes skittered over to the dining room table, at the fifteen hundred-piece puzzle she and her dad had started but never finished.
Why did we wait so long? We lost so many years.
She knew she shouldn’t let her mind go there, that it should bring her comfort to know that in the end they had made amends, they had been able to say goodbye. Not everyone got a chance to do that.
In just her bra and undies she went to the kitchen, washed her hands, and then poured herself a glass of wine. It wasn’t typical for her to reach for booze after a late shift, but she needed a drink. Between treating a patient who looked like some Greek god and being reminded that her dad, the last member of her family, was gone, she needed to escape. And why not throw back a glass or two? She had the day off tomorrow. Just her and Mack.
As if Mack could hear her thoughts his tail started thumping loudly against the kitchen island. “We’re spending the whole day together tomorrow. Maybe we’ll go on not one W-A-L-K, but two.” Mack was well on his way of shedding the extra weight he had been packing. The vet said he was looking good, just about ten more pounds and he would be right where he should be. Anna retrieved some frozen green beans from the freezer and ripped open the bag. Mack immediately went into position, sitting on his haunches, his eyes focused on the target. He let out a whimper as he stared up at her.
“Take it nice,” she said. Mack licked his lips before he snatched a bean out of her hand. “That wasn’t nice. You need more practice,” she said, shaking her head. Anna grabbed a plastic bowl from the cabinet and poured some of the green beans into it. She wished she could mix in some gravy, something fun, but he was on a strict diet. Thankfully, he wasn’t too picky. He seemed to like his vegetables as much as those god-awful bones her dad had fed him.
Anna took a shower and found Mack waiting for her in her bed. She flicked on the television and started to surf. She wasn’t an avid television watcher, but when she did decide to zone out in front of one she usually skipped right to the OnDemand movies. Tonight, though, she didn’t feel like a movie. She didn’t know what she wanted. With a glass of wine in one hand and the remote in the other, Mack lying at the foot of her bed, she flipped through the channels so quickly that she almost missed him.
“What the…” Anna’s eyes widened. Staring back at her, with that same sexy smile, was Brennan McGinnis. She really was out of touch with the world. Because the man she had stitched up tonight was the Brennan McGinnis. Famous chef, playboy, owner of Lucrezia Restaurant and brother to the starting quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles.
Anna had never seen a single episode of “The Chopping Block” before, mainly because she wasn’t a big fan of reality television. But right now, God himself couldn’t tear her away from the television screen. She set the remote down and watched him. He was a judge and currently taste testing some woman’s dish. As he gave her the news that her steak was overdone and the asparagus was a bit on the rubbery side, she didn’t look
at all bothered by his critique. Instead she smiled, turned ten shades of red and thanked him over and over again. The next contestant, a woman who appeared to be in her thirties, became even more flustered. She couldn’t string two words together after he told her that her meal was bland. When the next judge gave his feedback, the two women seemed preoccupied and fought to keep from looking at the gorgeous man who had just told them that their food sucked.
God, had she behaved like that tonight? Did she blush in front of him? Did he know that her stomach had been doing somersaults the entire time she had worked on him? That she had been imagining him doing things to her that she hadn’t done in over a year? Had he seen her looking at him, his muscular forearms, how his white t-shirt stretched over his biceps? Did he wonder why it had taken her longer than it should have to stitch his brow, because she had been distracted by the thick brown hair she ached to touch, those deep blue eyes that made her belly clench? And his voice; that had been the ultimate distraction. And what prevented her from taking her eyes off her flat screen television.
When the show came to an end, she found another episode and watched that one too. And then another. Until the wine was drained dry and she officially declared that she was more than tipsy. She turned off her nightstand light and the television, kissed Mack goodnight… and hoped to hell that Brennan McGinnis visited her in her alcohol-induced dreams.
Chapter Two
Brennan
The dream started off beautifully with him fucking some blonde who he didn’t know. He was ramming into her while her legs locked behind his back. Even in the dream he could feel that he was close. And then the dream mutated into a nightmare, because right before he was going to come the door to his bedroom opened and in walked that red-headed doctor. She just looked on, watching him fuck another woman. Dream Brennan should have reacted by asking her to join in, but nope. Instead, Dream Brennan grew soft and ripped away from the blonde. A stare-down ensued and then Anna vanished, poof, gone. The blonde threw her head back and laughed. He asked her what was so funny, but she didn’t answer. Just laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. A wave of pain radiated through him. When he opened his eyes, the blonde was gone, but her annoying cackle lingered in the air.
