Dangerously Damaged (Addicted To You, Book One)

by Covington, Lucy

  But in reality, he was one of the best-known coaches in the Northeast and guys came from all over the country to learn from him. He’d already taken a handful of fighters and trained them to where they were fighting in multiple organizations around the world, making a living at this game.

  For that reason alone, I couldn’t mouth off to him, as much as I might have wanted to.

  “Sorry about being late,” I said, finally.

  He looked at me for a while, and then sighed, tapping the desk with his knuckle.

  “You give me a damn headache, Brown. So much talent and drive, but you’re head isn’t on straight.”

  “It is, though. I’m completely one hundred percent committed.”

  Coach raised his eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

  For some reason, Lindsay flashed through my mind, making me hesitate for the slightest moment. “Of course I’m sure,” I said, but now my mind was racing. Why did she come into my head at a moment like this?

  “There’s something off about you, Brown. And we better get a handle on it, because in this business, opportunities to make it to the big show are few and far between.”

  “I know that. Believe me, I’m ready for my shot.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to analyze me like a bug under a microscope.

  “I just got off the phone with Drew Ellis, from the UFF.”

  For the first time, I was truly speechless. Drew Ellis was the CEO of the United Fighting Federation, the biggest mixed martial arts organization in the world. He was like Donald Trump and Mark Cuban rolled into one. He could make or break careers with a thumbs up or a thumbs down. It was that simple. Finally, I regained my voice.

  “Did my name come up?”

  “Yours was the only name that came up,” Jansen said. “Well, that’s not completely true. He wanted to talk about you, but I brought up Uriah’s name.”

  I felt the blood rush to my face. “Why would you bring him up?”

  “Because, I need to be fair to my fighters. You’re the guy that’s got the biggest potential, and you’re the one Drew is interested in signing. But I’m not sure you can handle the pressure. I don’t know if you’re ready to go pro yet.”

  My hands involuntarily clenched, but I controlled myself. “You can’t hold me back. That’s not fair.”

  “I didn’t say I was holding you back. But I need to give myself some outs, in case you go rogue on me like you did last year.”

  “Last year was…that was different,” I mumble, suddenly unsure of myself.

  “Last year was a royal fuck up,” he replied, suddenly getting to his feet. “You were ready then, too. Sure, it would have meant fighting overseas, but the money was great and a couple of wins would have guaranteed you a contract with the UFF. What did you do? You went fucking psycho and made me look like an asshole.”

  “I didn’t go psycho.”

  “Whatever,” Jansen said. “We can agree to disagree on the clinical term for that stunt you pulled last year. The bottom line is that it can’t happen again.”

  “I know.”

  “And the fact that you screwed up once, means I need to have a backup plan. So I’ve got Uriah on standby.”

  I shrugged. “Fine.”

  Jansen came over and sat on the edge of the desk, looking at me. His face softened. “This is good news, Justin. Next month, Drew wants to see you step up and fight one more time. If you win, he’s going to offer you a three-fight deal with the UFF.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My head was spinning, my heart racing.

  “Are you sure?”

  Coach smiled, a rarity. “I’m sure.” He held out his hand. “Tell me again that you’re ready, and say it like you mean it.”

  “Hell yes, I’m ready,” I said.

  ***

  I felt like Norm, coming into Cheers, as I walked into O’Doyle’s and was greeted by shouts of “JB!” from Taryn and Big Timmy.

  As usual, there were just a few old barflies hanging out and nursing their drinks, a baseball game on the television, the things I’d come to expect.

  I pulled up a stool as Taryn came over, smirking. “You look like the cat that caught the canary,” she said.

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you look damn proud of yourself.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  Big Timmy sauntered by, slapping my shoulder, as he headed to his station outside the front door. He was carrying his magazine in the other hand.

  “So, what’s going on?” Taryn asked, leaning over the bar.

  I looked at her, trying to see her objectively. We’d known each other for years, and it was hard to think of her as anything other than that same crazy chick who’d run around drinking forties and smoking weed with me on Friday nights when we were supposed to be home in bed.

  She was blond, with green eyes and high cheekbones—typical Irish chick. But I could see that anyone would find her pretty, maybe even beautiful in the right circumstance. I knew that she still had feelings for me, but the fact was, I always felt more like she was my kid sister or something. The days of us hooking up were in the past and always would be, as far as I was concerned.

  “Nothing’s going on, really,” I said, suddenly less anxious to tell her the big news about my deal with the UFF. “I’m just trying to have a positive attitude.”

  “Oh.” She seemed to sense I wasn’t being totally honest. There was a faint look of hurt in her eyes. “Well, do you want anything?”

  “Just a Sam Adams and a turkey sandwich.”

  She pursed her lips, nodding. “One Sam, coming up.” And then she walked away.

  For some reason, I didn’t want to share my excitement with Taryn and the regulars at O’Doyle’s. I wanted to tell somebody else. I wanted to tell Lindsay.

  The realization made me a little angry. Why was I still even thinking about her?

  What did she have to do with anything?

  Taryn put the Sam Adams bottle down. “Your sandwich will be out in a minute,”

  she said. “You look preoccupied, JB. Something’s going on with you.”

  I sighed, taking a long swig of beer. “I think I might be going crazy,” I admitted.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

  “But this time, it’s about a girl.”

  Taryn’s eyes flashed something—maybe anger, maybe disappointment—but then she recovered. “Girl problems are my specialty.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m a girl, JB. I know how they think. So go on and spill the beans, already.

  What happened? Who is she?”

  I couldn’t help it, I had to talk to somebody. So I started to tell Taryn about meeting Lindsay, and then going to her dorm room and the whole thing. Taryn shook her head a few times in disbelief. Finally, when I was finished, she put her head in her hands.

  “Oh my God, JB. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

  She peered up at me. “Yes, it’s that bad. You don’t get it. She’s not just some townie from Southie. This girl is sophisticated and serious. She’s going to Cambridge University.”

  “What, am I supposed to be intimidated by that? Does that make her better than me?”

  “No, but it makes her different. Look at you, in your grass-stained jeans and t-shirt, drinking a beer before five on a weekday. That’s not the kind of guy who’s going to impress someone like her.”

  I shook my head and frowned. “I’m not going to change who I am to suck up to some Cambridge girl. Fuck that.”

  “You’re not fooling anybody, JB. It’s obvious that you’re smitten.”

  “Smitten? What?” I scoffed, looking around at my fellow patrons, as if they were going to laugh at the thought of me being hung up over some random girl.

  But the only person whose eye I caught was an aging drunk at the end of the bar.

  He grinned at me tooth
lessly. “Nothing like biting the dog that bit you the night before,”

  he chuckled, then downed whatever was in his shot glass.

  “You need to set things right with this girl,” Taryn said. “You need to show her that you care. Show her with class.”

  “You think?”

  “I don’t think it, JB. I know it.” She turned and left me to my own thoughts.

  LINDSAY

  Here is how I spent my day:

  1. Procuring my I.D. card, which I didn’t have time to do yesterday, and which takes about three hours, since apparently no one else had time to do it yesterday either.

  2. Attending a biology seminar, with a guest speaker who talked about medical ethics. It was extremely interesting and exciting, and made me realize I might want to take an ethics class this semester. I’d just have to see if there was one open.

  3. Trying not to freak out about the fact that I had been on campus for one day, and had already gotten written up by my R.A.

  4. Wondering when and if Justin was going to appear again.

  At five o’clock, I headed for the dining hall and ate a ham and cheese sandwich for dinner. I thought about having a coffee, but I didn’t think it would be good for my nerves.

  The dining hall was pretty much deserted. The upperclassmen were arriving today, but most of them were occupied with moving into their dorms, and it was a little too early for dinner, anyway. So I sat alone, eating my sandwich and chips, and browsing through the course catalog.

  When I was done, I walked back across campus, the buds of my iPhone in my ears. There was a tap on my shoulder.

  Justin.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was Adam.

  “Hey,” he said, grinning. “How’s it going?”

  “Good!” Something told me that being written up on your first day didn’t really qualify as “good” but I didn’t want to get into it.

  “I see you got your I.D. card.” He reached out and flicked it.

  “Oh. Yeah.” I was wearing it on a lanyard around my neck, but I suddenly realized people probably didn’t do that. So I reached up and pulled it off. “How’s your leg?”

  “Fine.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, and he hadn’t just been freaking out about it twenty-four hours before. “So, listen, a bunch of us are going to listen to this band tomorrow night, at this place called Frog. It should be a good time. Any interest?”

  “I’d love to,” I said honestly. My deepest fear was that I would end up spending every night alone in my dorm room, with no friends and nothing to do. A bar with a loud band wasn’t exactly my scene, but now that I was at school, I was determined to push out of my comfort zone.

  “Adam!” a girl’s voice called across the quad. A pretty girl with long dark hair and a smattering of freckles ran up to us.

  “Oh, hey, Michelle,” Adam said. It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a look of annoyance play across his face.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just walking.” He didn’t make any effort to introduce me.

  “Hey,” Michelle said warmly. “I’m Michelle.”

  “Lindsay.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  The three of us stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Well, we were just going back to the dorms,” Adam said pointedly.

  “Oh, me too,” Michelle said. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Lindsay!” someone called. I turned around.

  Justin.

  Only this time it really was him. He was loping across the grass, his shoulders back, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of crisp khaki pants and a navy blue button-up shirt. His hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He looked gorgeous and my heart sped up.

  “I’ll, um, I’ll catch up with you later?” I said to Adam.

  “Isn’t that the guy from the hospital?” Adam asked incredulously. “The one who was getting stitched up at the same time as me?”

  “Stitched up?” Michelle asked, sounding panicked. “Why were you getting stitched up?”

  “See you later,” I said, leaving them behind as I rushed over to Justin. For a moment, I was afraid Adam was going to try to follow me, but he didn’t.

  “Hey,” Justin said.

  “Hey.”

  “I came to make it up to you.” He held out a dandelion. I grinned and took it, inhaling its sweet scent. His hand brushed against mine, and I wondered what it would feel like to have his hands all over my body. The thought shocked and excited me.

  “You don’t have to make it up to me.” I said, still holding the dandelion.

  “Just let me take you to dinner.”

  “Right now?” I’d just eaten, but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Yeah. Just, um, let me go change real quick.” I hesitated. Obviously I couldn’t bring him back to my dorm. “You’ll wait here?”

  “Sure.”

  I ran back to my room, taking the long way around so that I wouldn’t run into Adam and Michelle. When I got to there, Rachel was nowhere to be found.

  What was I supposed to wear out to dinner with Justin? Where were we going?

  He was wearing khakis and a button-up, so I grabbed a light blue summer dress out of my closet and slipped it on.

  I added a pair of cream-colored wedges, a long gold necklace, then brushed my hair and added some lip-gloss. But then I hesitated. Should I really be doing this? A weird shiver of fear slid up my spine. I had no idea who this guy was, or what he was doing here. Last night he was acting like a complete thug, and tonight he was dressed like an investment banker. Every part of me was screaming that this guy was bad news.

  But I didn’t care. Something about him was captivating me, pushing me toward him and whatever that entailed, even if it turned out to be bad.

  I headed out the door, and as I walked back across campus, I had to resist the urge to run. Justin was unpredictable – what if I got back there, and he was gone?

  But he wasn’t gone. He was sitting on a bench.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready.”

  ***

  We took the T to a restaurant on Stuart Street called Ferguson’s.

  It was a steakhouse, the kind of place they didn’t have in Ohio, at least not where I was from. It was dark inside, with candles on the tables and crisp white tablecloths.

  The maitre’d pulled my chair out for me, and I was so surprised I almost fell over.

  They filled our goblets with sparkling water, and I opened the menu.

  “Have you been here before?’ I asked.

  “No. But I’ve heard it’s supposed to be good.”

  “It looks good.” It better be, for the prices, I thought. A steak cost fifty-eight dollars. That was ridiculous.

  “Yeah,” he said. “They…ummm…the reviews for this place are excellent.”

  There was a silence as we both looked at our menus. For some reason, I realized, things were becoming awkward between us. I shifted in my seat.

  “What are you going to get?” he asked, finally.

  “Um, maybe the grilled haddock. You?”

  “Steak, definitely.”

  “Cool.” I shut my menu and folded my hands in my lap. Around us, people were drinking wine and laughing and talking. I felt ridiculously out of place.

  We lapsed into silence again. This was getting more and more awkward. It was like we were both afraid of saying or doing something wrong. Which was ridiculous, since apparently Justin had broken into my dorm room last night. How could he be worried about doing something wrong after he’d already done something like that?

  The waiter came to our table.

  I ordered first, and then Justin ordered his steak.

  “How would you like that cooked?” the waiter asked. He was a short man with a white mustache, and he sounded bored.

  “Well done,” Justin said.<
br />
  The waiter frowned. “Are you sure? This is an excellent cut of meat, and overcooking it takes away the aged flavor.”

  “The aged flavor?” Justin asked, looking at him incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “Well done,” Justin said again. He closed his menu and handed it to the waiter, who was looking a little peeved.

  “Any sides?”

  “What does it come with?” Justin asked.

  “Nothing. You need to order your sides separate.”

  “Oh.” Justin took the menu back and looked at it. “Mashed potatoes. And corn.”

  He looked at me. “Sound okay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  The waiter sighed, picked the menu back up, and left.

  “What a dick,” Justin muttered. “How was I supposed to know it didn’t come with anything?”

  “I didn’t know either.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Why should I know that their meals don’t come with any sides?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought you’d probably been to places like this all the time.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “In fact, places like this kind of make me uncomfortable.”

  He grinned. “Me too. But I wanted to take you someplace special.”

  “You don’t have to impress me,” I told him. “I’m pretty low maintenance, really.”

  Suddenly, he pushed his glass away. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “But we just ordered.”

  He shrugged. “So what? We didn’t eat. And besides, I think a place like this can take it.”

  He stood up, took my hand and led me out of the restaurant.

  Once we were out on the street, I was relieved. The air in the restaurant had been stuffy and warm, but outside the night was cool. It was still light out, and Justin kept holding my hand as we walked the streets of Boston.

  He took me to Quincy Market, where we ordered brownie sundaes for dinner, and ate them at a tiny wrought-iron table on the cobblestone street.

  When we were finished, we got coffee, and when I went to put sugar in mine, Justin stopped me.

  “Bubbles,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a superstition.” He pointed to the bubbles on the top of my coffee. “If you eat them, you’ll have good luck.”