by Amity Cross
Cookie-cutter houses for cookie-cutter families.
When Violet and I were kids, we’d grown up in a little house out in Bundoora. Every house in the neighborhood was different, from the size and color to the people who lived in them. Now I lived above a gym, Violet lived in Sydney in a posh apartment with her boyfriend, and our parents lived in a flimsy cardboard housing development in Caroline Springs on Melbourne’s outer fringes.
Truthfully, I’d done a couple of turns around the block before I even had the courage to park the car. I was now familiar with the entire street and had multiple options when it came to escape routes.
What was I actually hoping to find here? Closure, I guess.
My parents had kicked me out when I turned eighteen, and the only time I’d seen them since was when Violet was attacked. Dad came around to my place threatening me for brainwashing his daughter, caused a scene, and a neighbor had called the cops to break it up. Vee had never stopped coming to see me train and fight after they’d disowned me, and I think that pissed them off more than anything—until the attack that was. Still, she’d never given up on me just like I never gave up on her.
In my dad’s eyes, I’d stopped being his son the day I fell off the rails. That’s why I respected Ren’s father so much. He’d taken me in when I was a young delinquent and had taught me discipline, but it never seemed to be enough for the man I came from. Then I went to prison, and all contact stopped. Even the threats fell to the wayside. Vee was cut loose in her greatest moment of darkness, and I did whatever I could to take care of her.
I had no idea why I was sitting in my car watching their house, and I had no idea why I felt like it was important to even see them, let alone try to talk to them. Did I want forgiveness? Closure? Approval to marry Ren? Maybe I just wanted clarification that I hadn’t turned out like my old man before I pledged the rest of my life to my Spitfire.
That was the thought that gave me the courage to get out of the car and walk up the front path. I wanted to know that I was nothing like him. That I was a good man, not a monster waiting for the day he’d finally explode.
I stood on the front porch and stared at the door, the frosted panes of glass set into the wood revealing nothing about what was on the inside. They were home because there were two cars in the driveway. A beat-up Ute, which meant my father was still working construction, and a Holden Astra, which looked pretty expensive. They must be doing well for themselves.
Before I could chicken out, I knocked on the door. There were footsteps inside and a shadow appeared through the frosted glass, then the door opened and there she was.
She hadn’t changed one bit, other than a few more lines on her face than I remembered. She’d changed her hair, too. It was shorter and her black locks were flecked with grey.
“Ashley?” She blinked hard as recognition flooded her features.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Hi, Mum.”
Her mouth fell open. “How…”
“How did I find you?” I asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “You can find almost anyone if you look hard enough.” The last part came out full of accusations.
“Who’s at the door, Nance?”
I flinched at the sound of my father’s voice. The voice that had always been so full of bitter disappointment for the kid who could never seem to stay on the straight and narrow for more than five minutes at a time.
“No one,” Mum called out, watching me carefully.
No one. So that’s what they thought of me to this day. I was nothing and no one to them.
Narrowing my eyes, I said, “You don’t want him to know I’m here?”
“You know what your father’s like.”
I curled my lip in distaste. “I can see he knows how to keep old wounds open.”
Mum glanced down nervously before asking, “How is she?”
I scoffed and shook my head. She wanted to know how her daughter was after all these years? Would she have even looked her up if I hadn’t shown up at their door? Probably not, and wasn’t that a slap to the face.
“I took care of her,” I hissed. “I made sure she was looked after and wanted for nothing.” She glanced up at me with an unasked question in her eyes, and I snorted. “Yeah, Mum. Even when I was in prison for protecting her.”
“Nance.”
Mum flinched at the sound of my father’s more persistent voice, her eyes closing momentarily.
“If you don’t want to argue with him, you better leave,” she said, her shoulders tense. I could see nothing had changed in that area, too.
Movement from within the house drew my attention, and before I could make a decision either way, my father’s silhouette appeared in the hallway. He paused, and for a split second, I almost believed he was going to let it go, but then he moved toward us.
As he came into view, I almost gasped at how much he’d changed. He looked beat down by the world. His face was creased with lines, and his hair was sparse on the top of his head, but he still had all the anger I remembered him carrying sitting on his shoulders. Then, his gaze met mine, and something unknown but very dangerous, flashed through them. Seriously, if we were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing out of his ears.
Shoving roughly in front of Mum, his hand curled tightly around the door, his fingertips turning white. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
It was a good question because I actually didn’t know anymore.
“I’ve got my life together, Violet has hers back and I came—”
“You want money? Is that what this is?” he asked, fuming.
My mouth fell open at his accusation that I was still a drag on society. “I just opened a million dollar gym,” I spat. “I don’t need your fuckin’ money.”
“You want approval then?” he prodded. “You’re not going to get any of that here.”
I shook my head. I didn’t need his approval for anything. It was a huge fuckin’ mistake coming here.
“You were nothing but a disappointment to us,” Dad spat. “Dropping out of school, fighting, stealing and dragging your sister into it? You ruined her.”
I ruined her. There it was as plain as day. Instead of blaming the man who attacked Vee, they were still pinning it all on me. They’d never forgive me for something that was out of my control. Maybe I did want their forgiveness. Maybe that’s what this really was all about.
“She never deserved what happened to her, and she didn’t deserve you leaving,” I yelled. “How could you do that to her?” I turned my attention to Mum who, being the submissive housewife she’d always been, was hiding behind my father. “How could you leave your own daughter? She needed you, and you abandoned her!”
But it was Dad who spoke for her. “You only have yourself to blame for that.”
“Can you hear yourself right now?” I cried. “Putting the blame on me for your shitty parenting?”
“We should’ve cast you off sooner,” he retorted. “You were a lost cause the moment you went to that school.”
He was talking about the first high school they’d enrolled me in, the shithole full of lower-class kids whose parents didn’t have the money to send them any place decent. I was bullied from day one, and in a hole like that, the only way to get out of the cycle was to fight back with your fists. I was a bad kid, but I’d lacked the father I needed to get me back on the straight and narrow. Dad’s idea of helping me was a fist to the side of the head. It didn’t take much imagination to know what happened next—I didn’t come home. Instead, I stayed out drinking, got into fights, and talked back. Punching on a kid who fought to stay afloat was not the way to pull him into line.
Anger like that needed to be channeled. That’s why I took to MMA like I had.
“What I didn’t need was a slap around the head,” I snapped. “I needed—”
“To fight like a little shit-headed delinquent?”
I curled my shaking hands into tight fists. “Discipline, Dad. Fucking
discipline. Coach Miller gave me what you never could.”
Yeah, that’s right asshole, I thought. Andrew Miller was more of a father to me than you ever were.
He narrowed his eyes, and I could spot all the telltale signs of a man about to explode. After all, I was the same.
“I’m a good man now,” I said quietly, poking the beast I’d come from. “No thanks to you.”
“What you are,” he said thinly, “is a monster. Don’t you think I can’t see what’s inside of you? Darkness, anger and rage. You might have all the money in the world, but deep down, you’re still a pathetic failure. The monster never goes away, boy. You’re just like me.”
My mouth fell open in shock at the poison that dripped from his words, and his lips curled in satisfaction. He’d hit the nail right on the head. Everything I was afraid of had been dragged up to the surface and had been laid bare in front of the man I despised.
I craved control because deep down, I was afraid of losing it and never being able to come back. All the anger that lived inside of me would one day overflow, and who would I hurt the most? Ren. Ren, who I loved more than anything in the world. Ren, who I wanted to be mine and mine alone.
Dad looked me up and down and shook his head, tutting like I was a piece of stinking trash on his immaculate porch. My gaze flickered to Mum’s, and she shook her head. He’d never touched her in anger, not that I could remember, but she’d always been under his thumb. I wouldn’t find any hope with her either. Maybe Violet would find a scrap, but not me.
“We don’t have children,” Dad spat, and like a full stop to his declaration, he slammed the door in my face.
I stood there for what felt like an age before I turned and strode down the path away from the house. I felt sick. The kinda sick where I had to pause by the gutter and puke.
Sliding into the car, I slammed the door closed, my hands curling around the steering wheel and squeezing. I felt like punching something, but that would only make my father’s words one hundred percent true. I didn’t want him to be right. I wanted him to be a liar and a fraud. I hated him. I hated myself for even thinking for one second he’d changed.
I wasn’t a man. I was a failure. I didn’t even have the courage to ask Ren to marry me.
My father was right. Deep down, I was a monster whether I liked it or not. That shit was genetic. I didn’t have enough fingers to count how many times I’d lost it over the years, and one of those times, Ren had to put herself into the firing line to drag me back. I’d almost murdered a man, not once but twice. Intentionally. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt her.
Gunning the engine, I drove back to Pulse, seething the entire way. I’d gone to find answers, but all I got was a reality check.
Eleven
Ren
The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.
I ended the call on my phone with a curse, chucking the stupid thing onto the desk. When I woke this morning, Ash was gone. The moment my eyes had opened, I knew he wasn’t there, and when I’d rolled over, it was to an empty bed. The sheets were cool, which meant he’d been gone for a while.
He had no meetings scheduled, and if he’d had someplace to go, he’d let me in on it. He also never switched off his phone, which was why I was currently so pissed. We always knew where each other was because until recently, there were no secrets between us.
Maybe there was a simple explanation and I was blowing it out of proportion, or maybe I was right on the money. He’d been jealous, distant and evasive, and despite all my questions and reassurances, I now knew that Ash was keeping something from me. Something more than that stupid proposal. Something a lot more troubling.
Checking the clock on the computer, I cursed again when I saw it was one in the afternoon.
Shoving away from the desk, I pushed out of the office and bounded down the stairs into the gym, which was in full swing. There were a couple of personal training sessions going on, a third of the cardio machines were occupied, a group of bodybuilders were spotting each other as they bench pressed, and in the far corner on the bags were Cole and Ryan.
Being their coach and all, Ash paid a lot of attention to those guys, and he would never leave them alone without something to do. If anyone knew where he might be, it would be that pair.
“Hey,” I called out as I approached them across the mats.
Cole was shouldering a bag as Ryan pummeled it with his fists, and they both straightened up at the sound of my voice.
“What’s up?” Ryan asked, flexing his fingers.
“Do you know where Ash has gone?”
“He said he had some personal shit to do,” Cole said. “Why? Didn’t he—”
“When did he say that?” I interrupted, not interested in his opinion of our relationship.
“He gave us our orders last night,” Cole drawled. I knew the guy had some issues with authority even though it was plain to see he thought the sun shone out of my evasive boyfriend’s asshole.
“Last night?” I narrowed my eyes, the hole getting deeper and deeper.
“Is something wrong?” Ryan asked, his voice full of genuine concern.
Curling my lip, I shot back, “If you see him, tell him to switch his phone the fuck on and come see me.”
Spinning on my heel, I stormed back the way I’d come, not knowing what to do. It really bloody hurt knowing that Ash was keeping something from me, and for once in my life, I didn’t know what to do about it.
All I could do was to go back to work and hope he turned up, so I went through the motions by helping out in the office until the new hire went home. With Violet in Sydney and me at Beat, we’d had to get someone on pretty quick. The business had grown more than Ash had anticipated and was way too much for either of us to handle on our own. Which was a good thing when it came down to it.
Once the computer was off, I went downstairs and helped Bobby clean up the kitchen, much to his amusement, and then I went upstairs and waited on the couch.
The minutes ticked by and still no Ash. I checked my phone, but it was clear—no calls or messages graced the screen. The longer I waited, the higher my anxiety levels rose.
Standing, I decided to go downstairs and belt out a couple of repetitions on the bags. That, if nothing else, would curb my anxiety until the morning when I’d start calling every hospital in the city.
As I clattered down the stairs into the dark gym, I felt his presence before I saw him. My skin prickled like it was charged with some kind of static electricity. It zinged through my veins, making my heart beat double-time.
Across the floor, I saw Ash’s bulky form in the half-light, his stance solid and his shoulders hunched. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts, and his hands were wrapped much like the way he used to do them when we fought at The Underground. No gloves or protection, just a piece of material between his knuckles and his target.
He was attacking a bag with so much force I knew something wasn’t right. The smack of his fists against leather was loud in the silence as each punch landed. A set of three, then four, a single, then three. A sharp exhale of breath pierced the air, matching his punches beat for beat.
Weaving through the weights, I approached him through the darkness. He was right at the back of the gym like he was trying to hide, attacking the bag that hardly anyone ever used because it was so darn heavy. Only fools like Ash dared go as hard as he currently was on a bag holding that much weight.
Something was bothering him. Something big.
“Ash?”
My voice echoed in the empty gym, and he glanced at me before attacking the bag once more. His torso was glistening with sweat, and his hair was damp, making me wonder how long he’d been here. At least before nine when the place closed for the night, which meant I’d been waiting upstairs all this time like a chump.
“Ash, it’s after ten,” I said, edging closer.
“So?” he replied, starting another set of punches.
I reached out and
curled my hand around his forearm. “Come and take a shower with me.”
“I’m not done.”
“Ash—”
He wrenched his arm away. “I said, I’m not done.”
I jerked backward like I’d been slapped, winding my arms around my middle. He’d never spoken to me like that since… Well, since before we were together, and look at all the shit he’d been hiding then.
He ran a wrapped hand over his face before sucking in a deep breath. The only sound in the silence was the creak of leather as the bag swung back and forth like a pendulum.
“Where were you today?” I asked gently, dread well and truly settling into my bones.
He shook his head, his gaze never meeting mine. He looked like he was fighting an internal battle with himself, and all it did was make my heart ache.
With the way he was hedging around the question, I was beginning to think he meant to go back to The Underground. It was like I’d been propelled back a couple of years to when he was pulling the same crap when he’d turn up at Beat late at night with cuts and bruises on his face.
“I tried calling you, but your phone was off,” I said, watching him carefully.
“I had something to do.”
Not good enough. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Ren, I can’t,” he snapped.
“Secrets were what tore us apart in the first place,” I cried. “What’s yours is mine, remember?”
He was looking at me, but it felt like he wasn’t even there.
“Where did you go today?” I asked.
He was silent for so long, I almost walked away then and there. Finally, he said, “Some things I can’t share with you.”
Instantly, my expression crumpled, and my limbs began to feel heavy. My heart stopped beating for a split second as everything slowed down.
“What?” I asked, my voice ragged.
“I can’t,” he said more quietly, his eyes on the floor. My heart split in two. It was so forceful, I actually stumbled back a step.
