by Sophia Sharp
“It’s not me.” He runs his thumb down from the top of my brow, over the line of my jaw, to let it rest at the corner of my mouth. “It’s you.”
--
My whole body is raw and exhausted.
It’s the best type of exhaustion.
I nestle close to Rich, snuggling right up to his chest. He has one arm around me. We’re using my black sweater as a makeshift blanket. It covers only the lower half of our bodies.
Rich is gazing up at the night sky. The firelight dances over his body. I am content just to look at him.
He’s so gorgeous like this. I can see now why Amanda—hell, why any girl—would be so protective. He hadn’t shaved this morning. In the night, and in the glow of the fire’s dancing light, the stubble makes him look even harder. Even more masculine. As if he needed the help.
His body is all dense, lean muscle. I’ve never had time to just appreciate it before. I’d tell him he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him, but he’s probably heard that compliment from more than a few girls before. Maybe dozens. Maybe more. Maybe—
No. I cut off that line of thinking before it can infect my entire brain. Rich is obviously a bit of a player. But I will not be one of those girls who gets jealous of the past. Although I can’t help but wonder how many women Rich has been with. If I ask, would he give a truthful answer?
Fuck! There I go again with that terrible line of thinking. What matters is what we have now, in the present.
I brush my fingers over Rich’s abs, loving the way I can feel each individual muscle and distracting myself from unsavory thoughts. Rich turns his head lazily toward me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“You,” I admit.
“That’s funny.” He kisses my forehead. “I was just thinking about you.”
“I hope they were pleasant thoughts,” I tease.
“Oh, they were the best,” he assures me. “Yours?”
Something electric in his voice sparks memories of what we’ve just experienced together. I shiver in a shadow of pleasure as I remember the way my mouth explored every inch of his delicious skin. I shudder as I recall the cataclysmic third orgasm he’d coaxed out of me with his tongue. The way our bodies tangled together, wrapped around each other. The way we lost ourselves for those long, perfect moments under the stars. “The best,” I echo him in a whisper.
He chuckles and turns his attention back to the sky.
I feel my eyelids growing heavy. I don’t want to fall asleep yet. I want to stay here forever, comfortably numb beside Rich, oblivious to the worries of the outside world. Without a single sign of civilization around us, it’s easy for me to forget everything that had brought us here.
“Rich?”
“Hmm?” He does not look at me this time.
“Can I ask you something? It’s something I’ve been curious about for a while.”
“Sure.”
“I saw you fight Victor. You were fearless. Where did you learn to do that?”
“Oh.” He shifts to prop himself up. He doesn’t pull away from me, yet I can sense his hesitation. I don’t want him to withdraw. Not now.
“Never mind,” I say quickly. “It was a stupid question.”
“No, I can tell you, if you want.” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “I got in a fight with my dad once. I started it. I think I was sixteen. He did something to really piss me off—I don’t even remember what anymore. I thought I was tough, all grown up. It was the first time I remember realizing I stood taller than him.” Rich chuckles. “I threw a punch. Big mistake. It glanced right off him, and he beat the living shit out of me. He told me later if I really wanted him to see me as a man, I had to earn it.”
He pauses. “That was probably the only useful lesson he ever taught me.”
“Wow,” I say. I know this is treading way too close to personal history for Rich. Still, I have to ask, “Is that why you hate him so much?”
Rich looks down at me. “Because he beat me once? No. I deserved it. And he’s done way more fucked up shit in his time. This doesn’t even register.”
“So you learned how to fight after? Because of what he said?”
Rich grimaces a bit. “Yeah, I guess. I started going to underground fight rings about the same time I left New York.”
“You mean, those things are real? I thought they were only in the movies.”
“You’re probably thinking of ‘Fight Club,’” Rich says. “And yeah, they’re real all right. Just hidden deep underground.”
“So you still do it then?” I ask. “You still… fight?”
Rich shakes his head. “I haven’t for more than a year. I still train. But I don’t fight anymore.”
He sounds like he doesn’t want to add more, but for some stupid reason, I press on. “How come?”
“Because nothing good comes out of fighting, that’s why,” Rich says sternly. I can feel his body go rigid beside mine. “Because it’s fucking stupid. Because good people get hurt.”
“Oh,” I say in a small voice. I’ve upset him. All because of my damn curiosity. He keeps talking though, almost in a chant, and I can just feel the anger radiate from him.
“His name was Cody. A good kid. Only a few years younger than me. It seemed like so much more back then. Wanted me to take him under my wing. I said no. He wouldn’t give up. Damn persistent, he was. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let him fight. He wasn’t ready. But he saw me in the ring. He wanted to do the same. Wanted the attention, the prize money… hell, I don’t know. I told him no, but he kept asking.”
The words stream out of Rich, becoming faster, more heated. “Eventually, I relented. What was the worst that could happen? I was so wrong. He went up against the reigning champ. I could have taken him. Not Cody. Cody stepped into the ring. He swung, and missed. The other guy hit him square in the jaw. Cody staggered back. The champ kept coming. He rained a flurry of punches at him. Left, right, left.” Rich’s shoulders jerk forward and back, as if he’s throwing small, imaginary jabs. “Cody got pushed out of the circle, into the crowd. Usually that means the end of a fight. But Cody had spirit. He staggered back into the arena before I could grab him. He tried attacking the other guy while he was distracted. Didn’t work. The champ twirled back and landed a haymaker. Cody collapsed. He just crumpled down.”
Rich’s eyes darken. “Still he didn’t give up. He tried standing. The guy he was fighting was livid at that point. He jumped on Cody, driving his head into the concrete. Still Cody didn’t give the signal to stop. It was madness. I tried to run in to help, but people held me back. Everyone was yelling, screaming. ‘Kill him! Kill him!’ The crowd had tasted blood. It was a fucking madhouse.”
Rich goes quiet for a few moments. “Fighters know when to quit. They know when they’ve had enough. And there’s always, always a sort of grudging respect between two opponents in the ring. But nobody knew Cody. He was a newcomer. Nobody gave two shits about what happened to him. All they knew is he was cocky as hell for not surrendering.
“I lost sight of him in the bodies. When I finally broke through, he was lying in a puddle of his own blood on the ground. He was unconscious. The other guy hadn’t let up. He kept pummeling at Cody’s face, screaming, ‘HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH? HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH?’ Three guys were trying to pull him off, but he was like a rock.
“I ran and tackled him, trying to save Cody. The crowd went hysterical. I lost sight of everything as dozens of bodies crash into me. I was under a dog pile. All I could think of was Cody. Cody, Cody, Cody. I knew he was in trouble. I knew it was my fault.”
Rich stops. He blinks a few times, as if surprised by everything he’s just said.
“And then what?” I prompt, unable to suppress my curiosity.
Rich shakes his head. Sadness fills his voice. “That’s it. As soon as people realized Cody was seriously hurt, they cleared out of there. Nobody wanted to get blamed for the situation. I crawled to Cody. I remember—” Rich’s voice become
s shaky, “—I remember trying to use my phone. To call for help. But the damn thing had no signal underground. I remember pressing the buttons. Nine. One. One. Nine, one, one. Hitting the buttons and feeling all hope get sucked out of me when it didn’t work. I didn’t know what to do. It was just me and him down there. I wanted to pick him up and carry him out, but I was afraid his neck was broken. I couldn’t risk it.
“So I ran out, fast as I could. I called the ambulance from outside, and then rushed back to Cody. He was barely breathing anymore. I was—damn, I was helpless. It was the worst feeling in the world, you know? Being so close to someone you care about and being unable to do a single. Fucking. Thing!”
“It’s all right,” I say, stroking his arm, trying to calm him down. “Rich, it’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. The paramedics came. They sure took their fucking time about it, but they came. They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance with them because I’m not family.” Rich spits the word. “What kind of bullshit is that? By the time I got to the hospital, they told me the worst. Cody had three broken vertebrae, a cracked skull. He was in a coma. They said he’d never walk again.”
Rich takes another moment before continuing. “I didn’t believe them. I knew the kid had spirit. He’d walk out of the hospital on his own two legs the day he woke up. I knew it. I just knew it, deep down in my gut. It was the most unshakeable belief I’ve ever had.”
Rich goes quiet. For a long time, all I can hear is his breathing, the crackling fire, and the gentle lapping of water somewhere nearby. When he speaks again his voice is thin. “Nobody got the chance to find out. Cody flat lined two days later.”
Shit.
I berate myself for being so stupid to push him on a subject that obviously cuts close to the heart.
Shit, shit, shit!
What do I say now? I was never good with this type of sensitive stuff. “Rich, I’m sorry,” I try. It comes out even sappier than it sounded in my head.
He grunts and stands up. The sudden loss of his body leaves me reeling. “Spare me. It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even there.”
“Still, I…” I know how it feels? I do not. What Amanda said about false sympathy was right. It always comes out hollow.
Rich looks at me expectantly. “You what?” he asks, his naked form stunning in the night.
“I…” I shake my head. “Never mind. I know it must have been terrible for you.” And I wish I had been there to comfort you after.
“It was,” he agrees. He bends down to retrieve his boxers, then his jeans. I see the pale line of that old scar running across his shoulder and down his chest. I wonder where it had come from. Probably fighting. I decide now is not the right time to ask.
“Where are you going?” I ask when he starts to stroll away.
“For a walk,” he declares, flattening his hair that I’d messed up earlier. “I need to clear my head.”
I start sitting up. “I’ll come with you—”
“No!” he barks. I shy back. He winces, and softens his tone. “I mean, I need to be by myself. You understand, right?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He leans down and kisses my temple. “I’ll be back before first light. Try to get some sleep.”
“By myself?” I start to say, but he’s pacing away before the words even leave my throat. I let him go.
A few moments later, the night swallows him whole.
Suddenly, I feel very alone. I’m by myself on a dark beach, the fire a beacon for anybody out there. I snuff it out by kicking sand on it. It’s odd, but I feel safer in the dark.
I lie back and think about everything Rich told me. I never knew how much shit he’s had to deal with in his life. My heart aches for him. I want to be the one to hold him close, to tell him everything will be all right. But I know, deep down, that I can never be that girl.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunlight breaking the grey sky overhead rouses me from a contented sleep. I open my eyes slowly, savoring the last vestige of a dream that involved Rich running his sure, strong hand over my…
I bolt up in alarm. Rich! He said he’d be back by first light. I look around. I’m alone by the fire pit. Has he left me again? Panic threatens to take hold.
I stand up, yanking the sweater over my head. I grab Amanda’s jacket, happy that it’s finally dry, and toss it on. I don’t know where Rich is, but—
That’s when I spot him. Curled up by a boulder in the sand, less than fifty yards away.
I see his footprints in the sand. They don’t extend past where he’s sleeping.
I huddle in my jacket for warmth and walk up to him. I’m careful not to make a sound. Yet, somehow, when I’m just over ten feet away, his sharp eyes open.
I look him up and down. His clothes are rumpled, his hair in disarray. There’s a tiny bit of bruising left on his face from the fight last night. Even like that, he manages to look sexy as hell. “Did you spend all night here?” I ask.
“Of course,” he answers. “I couldn’t leave you alone.”
My heart melts a little inside. Rich stands up.
“Come on,” he says. “We’ve got to go.”
“Where?” I ask, following him back to the fire pit. He starts kicking sand over the ashes. I sit down and watch him.
“We’re going to meet Min,” he says. “I need to see her. From there… I have a plan that will keep you both safe.”
“Really? What is it?”
He gives me a wry smile. “It’s a secret.”
“I think at this point, I deserve to know,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “Not really. It’s better if you don’t.”
I feel a bit of irritation seep into me. “What? You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that,” he says. “It’s just, the plan’s not fully formed yet. I’m still working out the kinks.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“Penny!” He says my name so sharply it causes me to stop short. “Just leave this alone, will you? I’ll tell you when I figure it all out. I promise.”
“Fine,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “I’m just not as useless as you seem to think.”
He clicks his tongue. “I don’t think you’re useless,” he says with a finality that ends the conversation.
Silence stretches between us like a yawning chasm. Rich continues covering up the fire. I can’t take the quiet much longer. “What are you doing?” I blurt out.
Rich looks at me. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m trying to hide our tracks. We don’t want anyone to know we spent the night here.”
“What, like Tam or Victor? How would they even begin to guess to look here?”
Rich shrugs. “It never hurts to be careful.”
“Says the man who started a bar fight last night,” I retort under my breath.
“What was that?”
I sit up. “Nothing.” I’d forgotten how sharp Rich’s ears can be.
“You said something,” he insists.
“I was just wondering how a boy who grew up in New York… a city boy,” I flash him a smile, “knows so much about…” I pause, searching for the right words, “…the world.”
“The world?” Rich sounds amused.
“You know,” I continue, “all this type of stuff.” I gesture at the fire. “Hiding our tracks. Off-road biking. The way you were so careful when we sneaked back into your apartment. Those kinds of things. Didn’t you grow up in the city, like me?”
“I did.”
“So how’d you learn all those practical things?” I pause. “And, come to think of it, why do you drive a truck? Isn’t your family super rich?” I speak without thinking, and instantly regret the words. My question is rude and probably crosses some line. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rich got mad at me.
But he does not. He looks at me, thoughtful, and when he speaks, his words carry a deep inflection. “Penny, you have to understand that wealth…” he spreads his hands, “…is
not all it’s cracked up to be. I guess from the outside, a statement like that sounds incredibly entitled. Ungrateful, even. But that’s not true.
“I grew up in the wealthiest suburb of New York. There was nothing I ever wanted that I went without. In theory, it might be a great life. But it’s not. Not really. I’ve seen what chasing money does to people. It turns them into cold, calculating, emotionless robots.”
Rich sits down beside me. “My father lived his whole life in pursuit of wealth. Look where that got him. In jail, with a son who hates his guts and a daughter who’s not much better. Not that he ever gave a shit about what we thought.”
I look down at my hands. Rich keeps talking.
“I’ve seen firsthand how money can corrupt a person. It makes you do things you never would otherwise. And once you get a taste of opulence, it becomes like a drug. You become addicted. You need more. More cars, more houses, more things.”
Rich grimaces. “That’s how my father treated everyone around him. Not like a person. Like a thing to be used and exploited for his own personal benefit. Even his kids weren’t immune to it.”
Rich takes my hand and squeezes it gently. I love the warmth that flows from him. “And I hated that, Penny. I hated it more than anything in the world. It was no way to live. So call me spoiled or entitled. Call me whatever you want. Call me the brat who doesn’t know how good he’s had it. I don’t care. Possessions aren’t the important things in life.” He tightens his grip on my hand. I look over, and he meets my eyes in an unwavering gaze. “People are. People you care about.”
Oh, wow. For a moment, things get way too intense for me. Like an idiot, I jerk my hand away.
I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but for the blink of an eye, Rich looks incredibly hurt. Then he keeps talking, and seems all right. “That’s why I drive a truck instead of some fancy Lamborghini or Porsche. My dad dumped a bunch of his money into my bank account when I turned sixteen. Probably so he wouldn’t feel obliged to give me anything else. I try not to touch it. Living frugally keeps me grounded. As does knowing about all the other things you mentioned.” He pauses. “What about you?”
