Unfiltered & Undone

by Payge Galvin

  So damned close. A hell of a lot closer than he ever expected to get. And now? And now nothing. He’d seen her expression when she’d looked down from those rafters. When she’d seen him beating the shit out of another guy for the amusement of an audience. She was heading to graduate school. Into a career to help save lives. A brilliant, beautiful, sophisticated, compassionate young woman who wouldn’t be caught dead on a date with him even if he was the prize in a charity bachelor auction.

  He turned on Troy. “I know you wanted me to tell her but—”

  Troy nudged him through an open doorway, into an unused dressing room, and closed the door behind them.

  “You wanted me to tell her,” Declan said again.

  “Yep, I did. Because you like this girl. Really, really like her. I’ve known you for five years, Deck, and you’ve barely lifted your nose from the grindstone long enough to notice a girl. This girl? She doesn’t just make you look up. She’s makes you walk away from that damned grindstone and notice there’s an actual world out here. So I’m not going to let you fuck this up by keeping secrets. But if you think I brought her in here?” Troy stepped closer. “Give me a little credit. This isn’t my fault, and it’s not hers. It’s the fault of the moron who left his damned phone in the car.”

  “What?”

  “First, you didn’t tell me where you parked, so I couldn’t find her. Second, you forgot your phone and Ciaran called.”

  “What? Ciaran? Is—?”

  “He’s fine. It was a social call. But all Jess knew was that you’d given him that phone for emergencies and he called, so…”

  “She came to find me.”

  “Exactly.”

  Declan rubbed his hands over his face. “How’s she taking it?”

  “Well, let’s see. There are three options under the circumstances. One, she thought it was totally hot and is in your dressing room right now, waiting to jump you. Two, she’s thoroughly disgusted and is waiting to tell you so before she storms out of your life forever. Three, she’s shocked and confused, but she knows you have a reason and is waiting to talk to you about it. Given what you know of Jess, which option do you figure it is?”

  “Three?”

  “Once more, with conviction.”

  He straightened and brushed his hair back. “Three. All right. Anything I should know?”

  “She figured out it’s about Ciaran. About getting custody. She’s a smart girl, like you said. She just needs a full explanation. Which you are going to give her, right?”

  Declan nodded and headed for the door, but Troy stepped into his path. “Don’t fuck this up, Deck. You lose this girl, it’s going to be a helluva long time before you find another one you want. Be straight with her. No misunderstandings.”

  Declan nodded again and left.

  ‡

  Declan pushed open the dressing room door. Jess was sitting on the bench. She looked up and winced. She covered the reaction with an unsteady smile as she rose, but he didn’t miss that wince, and he glanced down at the towel around his neck. He’d been so intent on getting back here that he hadn’t wiped up, and now she could see all the blood she might have missed from a hundred feet above the cage.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled.

  “I know.”

  She managed to hold his gaze for about two seconds before shunting it to the side, unable to look at him. Fuck.

  “I should grab a shower,” he said.

  She looked at the shower in the corner, without even a curtain. “I’ll step out.”

  “No,” he said quickly as he imagined her stepping out and deciding to keep going. “It’s rough here. Troy’s gone so I’d rather you stayed here.”

  “I’ll turn my back then.”

  She did. He stripped off his shorts and started the shower. While he had his back to her, he was damned sure she never snuck a peek.

  That morning, in the hall outside her bathroom, he hadn’t failed to notice her checking him out. That had felt better than all the leers and ogles he got heading into the ring. When it came to his looks, his ego was healthy enough to know he wasn’t unattractive. The question had been whether his looks were to her taste, and that once-over in the hall had said he was, which had made him damned happy. It was the first step toward knowing whether she was attracted to him, which had been cemented during their self-defense lesson.

  And now? When he’d walked in, dressed in only his shorts, her gaze had never dipped below his face. She stayed in the corner facing the wall. Whatever she’d seen in him that morning, it was gone, and all she’d ever see going forward was a guy fighting in a cage.

  He showered fast. He turned off the water and said, “Can you grab my robe? It’s right beside you.”

  She took it down from the hook and backed up without even an “accidental” glimpse as she stretched behind her to hand it to him. Had he been testing her? Hoping maybe she’d look? Hell, yes. She hadn’t, and that made him want to yank on his robe and get the hell out of here. Stop at the nearest liquor store, grab a bottle and drink the whole damned thing. He’d never done that in his life. Never been tempted.

  After years with Pete, Declan would never see alcohol as a solution. If he got upset, he took it out on a punching bag, hitting until he was too exhausted to think. This time, though, that seemed too slow. Except he’d probably get drunk and stumble over to her place and make an ass of himself, declaring his undying devotion or some such shit.

  It wasn’t as if he’d do that anyway. No matter how badly he wanted to crawl under a rock, he’d made a commitment to Jess. To watch over her. That came first.

  “I’m decent,” he said.

  She turned and when she looked at him, her lips curved in a smile that touched her eyes. A real smile—or close enough to one that he relaxed, just a little.

  “Better without the blood?”

  “Much.” That look of concern again. “Are you okay? Is there a medic or someone who comes to check you out?”

  “Nah, nothing like that. There’s an off-duty paramedic on staff who helps if we need it, but I’m fine. Just bumps and bruises and cuts.”

  Her expression said that was bad enough. “So, last night. When you were listing off injuries. They weren’t from a car accident, were they?”

  He tensed. “No. I just… I’m sorry I didn’t…”

  “I understand.”

  He looked at her.

  She went on, “I’m guessing this isn’t legal.”

  “Actually, yeah. Cage fighting is, though this kind is questionable, especially with the gambling and all.”

  “Which is why you don’t go around advertising that you do it. You were right about not wanting to bring me in here. This is a little different than a dive bar.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know why you do it.” She added quickly, “Troy didn’t tell me. I guessed. You’re earning money to get custody of Ciaran. You’re worried about him, and time’s an issue and, well, I guess there are definitely worse ways to make fast money, so…” She met his gaze. “I get it.”

  He exhaled without realizing he’d been holding his breath. She got it. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. In the beginning, he’d told a few people why he was doing this. A couple of girls he’d been trying to impress into bed.

  Oooh, Declan. That’s so good of you, taking that risk for your little brother. You’re a hero. Sigh.

  He hadn’t liked the way that made him feel. He wasn’t a hero. He’d abandoned Ciaran. Got the hell out of the house at seventeen and never thought twice about his three-year-old brother. It wasn’t until their mom died that Declan realized what he’d done. Left Ciaran to grow up with Pete.

  He wasn’t a hero. He was just a guy trying to fix a mistake he’d made back when he was a selfish, scared kid.

  This was what he wanted from Jess. Not sympathy. Sure as hell not pity. Understanding.

  “Thanks,” he said, and she reached up and hugged him, and that’s when he fin
ally relaxed. While she wasn’t going to forget what she’d seen, he hadn’t completely fucked up either. He felt that in her hug, and when she pulled back and said, “Can we go back to my place and talk?” he nodded and let her turn around while he dressed.

  Chapter 10

  Jess

  Jess lay awake in bed. She blamed the beer for her sleeplessness. It was a poor excuse—the truth was her brain was whirring too fast to let her rest. But the beer didn’t help. She hadn’t had one since high school.

  They’d drank a few bottles they’d picked up from his place as they’d sat in her living room, talking. That’s what she kept thinking about: their talk. What Declan had said. He’d been slow to admit it, as Troy had warned, but as the beer flowed, he’d gotten there.

  When Declan finally admitted how he’d gotten into cage fighting… The beer churned in Jess’s stomach just thinking about it. What he’d admitted. What Pete had done.

  “My dad got me started in boxing,” Declan had said, after grabbing his third beer and plunking back into the recliner. “Pete didn’t like boxing. Said it was boring. He took me to a cage match to show me his idea of fighting. So, eventually…” He shrugged, and Jess knew she was supposed to interpret that Declan took up street fighting in an attempt to please or bond with his new father. But the fact he couldn’t actually say the words told her they were a lie.

  She’d asked if that’s how it happened, and he’d squirmed, seemed ready to say, “Yeah, that was it,” and then drained half his beer before saying, so quietly she wondered if she wasn’t supposed to hear him, “No, it wasn’t like that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m trying to understand it better, but it’s really none of my business.”

  “No, I would like you to understand. It’s just…” More fidgeting. Then he’d looked up. “Lots of kids go through lots of shit. Shit ten times worse than anything I did. Bringing it up seems like… I don’t know. Like I’m looking for pity, and it’s not like that. What’s past is past. You get over it.”

  Which wasn’t true, as anyone who’d taken first-year Psych knew. But Jess understood what he meant. She hated talking about her own problems at home, because however much pressure she got from her parents, it wasn’t as if they’d abused or neglected her, and to complain about it made her sound like a brat—a privileged kid whining because daddy wants to pay for her to go to UCSF med, poor thing. Declan’s problems made hers seem insignificant, yet he could look at others and say the same. There was always someone who had it worse.

  “He made you take up street fighting, didn’t he?”

  A pause, then. “Yeah.”

  “What… Kind was it?”

  He shrugged and picked at the label on his beer. “Depended. Sometimes, they hold the matches in clubs. That’s dangerous, though. Cage fighting might be legal here, but not then in California and definitely not for kids. Most times, it was a place more like what you saw. Two guys in a cage, fighting for the crowd.”

  When she hadn’t responded, he looked up, and there was no way she could hide her expression, because that wasn’t what she’d envisioned at all. She’d figured Pete had got him into street fighting the way his dad got him into boxing—taking him to lessons and coaching him and maybe playing some tournaments. The thought that it had been what she’d seen tonight—that his stepdad had put him into a cage to fight for money, to get beaten for money…

  Declan had only to see her face to realize the misunderstanding. He made excuses. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. It taught him valuable skills. It paid the bills, and he’d been happy to do that for his family. Maybe there was some truth there, but no child should ever be forced to fight to feed his family. It was like something out of a movie, where she’d watch it and feel horrified, but know it was a safe horror, because things like that didn’t happen in real life.

  After she’d gone to bed, she’d looked it up on her phone, only to discover things like that did happen in real life. It was illegal, of course, but that didn’t stop it from happening. Jess had sat on the edge of her bed and looked at photos of boys fighting in cages, and she’d had to turn off the phone and lie down before her roiling stomach sent her running for the toilet.

  Before that, when Declan made excuses, he’d said, “I’m okay.”

  “I know.”

  He rolled his shoulders. “It was a shitty way to live. I won’t deny that. But it means I’m okay in there. In the cage. I’m a trained pro, and those guys are amateurs.”

  “That’s what Troy said.”

  “There’s always a bright side.” The wry smile he gave her looked forced. “That’s what my mom always said.”

  His mom. She had to have known. Her child came home with bruises and broken bones after an outing with his stepdad. Either those outings meant beatings or something was going on. Also the family had been paying its rent and grocery bills without anyone being gainfully employed. Jess couldn’t imagine any parent leaping to the conclusion that their child was being forced to fight for a profit, but Declan’s mother must have realized something was going on. And she’d done nothing about it.

  “Are you worried Pete will do the same with Ciaran?”

  He sat for at least a minute, his beer between his knees, his forearms on his thighs, deep in thought before saying, “Yeah, I’m worried. Ciaran’s bigger than I was at his age, and I send money, but Pete’s a greedy bastard. On the other hand, Ciaran’s his kid. That means something.”

  “He goes easier on him.”

  “Yeah. Thankfully. And Ciaran and I have a good relationship. We talk all the time. If something happens, I’d like to think I’d know, even if Ciaran didn’t tell me.”

  “You would. There’d be an impact. Mood. Grades. Behavior.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And he has the phone. That’s why you gave it to him, I presume.”

  “It is.” He straightened and put his bottle on the table. “I’ll call him in the morning.”

  “You ready to head off tonight then?”

  “Not really. But if you are…”

  “I’m fine. Change of subject?”

  A quarter-smile. “Yeah. Please.”

  They’d talked for another hour after that, nothing about fighting or family. Just talk. Now after looking at those websites Jess tossed and turned in bed before breaking down and calling Sami.

  “Hey,” her friend said when she answered, her voice thick with sleep.

  Jess looked at her clock. It was two in the morning. Meaning it was four in Rhode Island. “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time. Go back to—”

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Double liar.” The creak of bedsprings crossed the line. “Something happened. Is it school? Your parents? Your hot new self-defense teacher?”

  Silence.

  “It’s Declan, isn’t it? Is there a problem? Did he turn out to be a jerk? Because if he did, I’ll personally—”

  “No, he’s definitely not a jerk. Just… stuff. I’m just feeling unsettled.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “Not about that. I would, but… It’s personal. His personal stuff.”

  “Ah. Got it. So, do you want to hear a funny story?”

  Jess thought of Declan and the cage and the boys in those internet photos and her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, I really want to hear a funny story.”

  “Good, because you’ll love this one. So I called my sister tonight and…”

  ‡

  Jess dreamed of Saturday night at The Coffee Cave. She’d repeated the scene in her nightmares so often that it felt like a recurring dream she’d had for years, though it’d only been four days. Now the dream changed. Now she was in the warehouse, hearing the shouts of the crowd as she barreled through, gun in hand.

  She saw Declan was in the cage with the man from the coffee shop. The man was
dragging him, just like he’d been dragging Sugar. Then he punched Declan, like he’d punched Sugar.

  “Stop it!” Jess shouted as she pointed the gun at the man.

  He snarled, “Mind your own business.”

  “I said stop it!”

  She put her finger on the trigger. Declan’s eyes went wide.

  “No, Jess!” he said. “I’m okay. It’s just a fight. Don’t—!”

  She pulled the trigger… just as the man lunged away from Declan. The bullet hit Declan in the stomach. His eyes bugged. His mouth worked. And as Jess screamed, the man dropped Declan to the cage floor and smiled.

  “No!” Jess shouted and bolted upright in bed.

  She heard the distant thud of footfalls, muffled by the blood rushing in her ears. The door flew open, and Declan rushed in. He got a couple of feet past the doorway and stopped short, then stood there, as wild-eyed as he’d been in her dream.

  “Jess? Are you okay?”

  Her gaze dropped to his stomach. No bullet hole, of course. Just a nightmare. She tried to say that, but the words wouldn’t come, and she sat there, trembling. He took a step toward her and again stopped himself. He swallowed and looked at the closed window.

  “I heard you say stop it,” he said. “Was someone here?”

  She shook her head and finally found her voice. “It was a nightmare.”

  He stepped toward her. This time, he not only stopped short but backed up. When she looked down, she could see her nightgown askew, one breast nearly out, the bottom riding up over her hips, the lace of her panties showing. She tugged the nightgown back in place as best she could. He glanced away fast, as if he’d been watching her adjust it.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “No, no. Not at all. I—”

  He looked toward her and then away again, averting his eyes. She pulled the sheet up over her bare legs. He looked back, still staring. Then he blinked hard and rubbed his face.