Fighting History (Fighting For Love Book 4)

by James, Marysol

  “Yes and no.” Maggie blinked as tears filled her eyes again. “If she’s brain dead and her body can’t function on its own, she wants to have the machines keep her organs healthy enough for transplant purposes. But she wants to just – let go. She wants me to let her go.”

  “Oh, baby,” he said softly. “I am so, so sorry.”

  She nodded, trying to stay in control, but it was hard. She was horrified when a sob burst out of her throat; she was even more horrified when Joe knelt down in front of her and pulled her to him. His strong arms wrapped around her and he pulled Maggie forward in her chair until her forehead was resting against his thickly-muscled shoulder.

  Joe ran his fingers through her long hair. “It’s OK, Maggie. Cry if you need to.”

  She struggled mightily to stop her sobs, but it was no use. The weeks and weeks of tension and fear and stress came to a head now, and her whole body shook as she let go and wept. For the first time, she cried as she really wanted to, as she’d been afraid to. She’d been terrified to let it all out, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to come back after. But here, in the familiarity of Joe’s huge arms, his warm breath on her neck, his gentle hands holding her close, she thought she was safe to be weak. To be scared.

  My body hasn’t forgotten even one inch of his, has it?

  Joe closed his eyes as Maggie fell to pieces in front of him, her tears soaking his t-shirt. He couldn’t believe that she’d held it together for as long as she had, and he wanted nothing more than to make it all stop for her. But he couldn’t, and he knew it, so he did what he could do. He offered comfort and a safe place to fall apart.

  My God, she feels good. I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her so fucking much.

  Slowly, her breath relaxed and her grip on the back of his shirt loosened. She raised her head and he pushed her tumbled hair off her face with both hands.

  “Oh, God, Joe.” She sat back and he saw the distance in her green eyes. “I’m sorry…”

  “No.” He shook his head, his body protesting at her moving away. “Don’t do that, Maggie. Don’t put up the walls again, OK? Don’t be embarrassed or worried about anything. You have nothing to feel bad about.”

  She was silent, wiping the tears on her cheeks, her eyes averted.

  “Maggie? You hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t pull away from me, not physically, not emotionally. Please?”

  Maggie forced herself to meet his eyes, though it almost killed her. “I have to, Joe.”

  “Why?”

  Her admission was so quiet, it was barely a whisper. “Because you still have the power to hurt me.” Her eyes were unwavering now, her voice stronger. “I’m so vulnerable, with everything going on with Mom, and I wouldn’t be able to take another hurt from you. Not now.”

  “Are you so sure I’d hurt you again?” Joe asked, his voice huskier than usual. “Don’t you think it could be different? We could be different?”

  She broke their gaze now. “I don’t know. And I can’t think about that right now.”

  “OK.” He fought with himself to stop pushing. “Can we at least agree that you’ll let me be there for you? That you’ll talk to me about Rita, and what’s happening?”

  She looked back at him, surprised. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want you to do this alone, Maggie.”

  “Well, I’m not alone.” Her tone was challenging and he grinned at the return of her spirit. “I do have friends, you know.”

  “I know.” He longed to kiss those lips, to whisper against her mouth as she heated up against him. “But I’d like to be counted among the people you can talk to, OK? Can you trust me to do that?”

  She looked at him for several long seconds and he held his breath. Finally, she nodded, a single jerky movement. “I’ll try.”

  He sighed in relief. “I’ll take it.”

  They smiled at each other now, and Maggie was shocked at the heat that sparked between them. She looked away first, afraid that if she kept gazing at the warmth in those gorgeous blue eyes, she’d abandon her control and kiss him.

  “OK,” Joe said, standing up again. “Let’s eat.”

  She blinked. “Well. I’m not really hungry…”

  Joe shook his head. “No way. You need to eat, and I’m going to make sure you do. You said you haven’t had anything today, and I refuse to watch you pass out in front of me again. I’ll feed you myself if I have to, but you’re eating. Got it?”

  Her stomach clenched at his forceful tone, kind of liking his concern being masked as bossiness. And he was right, she knew – she expected to be at the hospital all night again, and she’d need all her strength for that.

  “OK, OK.” She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll eat, like with a knife and fork. No need to hold me down.”

  “Huh.” His eyes flashed again. “That’s a shame.”

  Maggie’s breath caught and her pussy slicked up at the memory of being under Joe, her arms held over her head, both her wrists pinned in one large hand as he thrust inside of her, slow and hard and deep. Goddamn, he’d been an amazing lover, and she had been so turned on by his dominance in the bedroom.

  Argh. Don’t go there, Maggie. There’s nothing in that direction but heartbreak and hurt. Just stay off that path, yeah?

  She was grateful when he moved away and checked the food. It gave her a few seconds to pull herself together a bit, to draw some steadying breaths. His suggestion that maybe things could be different between them was still buzzing in her head and she shook it a bit, to let the thought fly free. She wasn’t ready to take a chance with him again.

  No way, not even if he says he’s changed. The risk is too fucking big. No way I’m strong enough to go all-in with him again. Never. Ever.

  Joe brought the plates to the table and she inhaled. “Wow. That smells amazing.”

  He looked pleased. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. What is it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s really basic… just a cheese and basil pasta bake. I wanted something fast and filling for you.” He winked. “Good thing you eat carbs, huh?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, thanks. It looks great.”

  “Dig in,” he said. “Want to switch to red wine now? It’s better with pasta.”

  “Nope. I prefer white.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” He smiled. “I like it better too.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced up. “I remember.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and when Maggie had relaxed a bit more, Joe leaned back. “Maggie?”

  “Hmmmm?”

  “Did you want to answer my question now?” He held her eyes. “You don’t have to, you know. Especially not after the news about your Mom.”

  “No, it’s OK.” She took a sip of wine. “I feel like I need to… you’ve been so honest tonight, and I haven’t, in some ways.”

  He nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “OK, well.” She stopped to gather her thoughts, tried to decide where to begin. “I never told you this, but I used to be… ummm… heavy. Very heavy.” She looked down at the food. “Fat, actually.”

  Joe stared at her curves, so lush and firm in her jeans and t-shirt. Maggie had never been skinny, and he knew she’d been self-conscious about her body in bed sometimes, but he’d never imagined that she had any major hang-ups.

  “You were?” he said.

  “Yeah. In high school, I was well over two hundred pounds. No reason, really, except that I used food as an emotional release and outlet, and it took me a long time to find healthy ways to handle stress. Now I have my sculpting, and yoga, and swimming. When I turned twenty or so, I lost the weight and I keep it off, but it takes effort. And I still don’t like my body very much.”

  Joe remembered her lying in his bed, naked and flushed, her breasts
rising and falling as she came. He’d adored her curvy thighs, her generous ass. She had just been so damn responsive to him, she had given him so much pleasure, and it hurt him that she didn’t like her own amazing body.

  “Anyway.” She shrugged. “I never had boyfriends in school, and the guys I was with before you were students, mostly, or young guys, just starting out in their jobs and lives. When you showed up at my exhibition and paid attention to me, I couldn’t believe it. Like, at all. It was unbelievable to me that someone like you would even want to talk to me, forget about asking me on a date.”

  “What do you mean, ‘someone like me’?” Joe said.

  “God, Joe.” She gestured at him, irritated at having to point out the obvious. “Look at you. You’re handsome and sexy and your body just doesn’t quit. You’re rich, a known chef, a celebrity. You’re damn near perfect, and that night we met, I almost ran and hid in the bathroom when you smiled at me and said hello.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. Mia forced me to stay, told me that you were just a guy. Told me to relax and just talk to you. So I did.”

  He recalled how nervous and shy she’d been that night, and how much he’d liked it. Joe had been sick to death of predatory females at that point in his life, and this sweet, quiet woman with the stunning eyes and gorgeous curves had taken him aback.

  He’d been interested in her from the first, mostly because she’d been the exact opposite of his usual type. Her talent had blown him away, too: all that passion and strength tempered with grace had been overwhelmingly sexy.

  Nobody had been more surprised than Joe when he’d asked her out for dinner, then on another date, then to his house so he could cook for her twice, before finally taking her to his bed. He’s also been amazed when he’d been faithful to her for months – not that he’d stayed faithful, of course, because he’d been a huge asshole. But he had actually been with her exclusively for longer than he’d ever been with anyone else.

  “You asked why I let you treat me badly, and the truth is that you were just the hottest, smartest guy I’d ever laid eyes on, and I wanted to stay with you. I was willing to do anything at all to not lose you, because I was sure that I’d never get another guy like you to ever pay attention to me. You were the fantasy boyfriend, and I didn’t want to wake up.” Maggie looked at him. “I was pathetically flattered, and I think that you were some kind of validation for me. Proof that I wasn’t that lonely fat girl anymore. I was terrified that if I lost you, then I’d never feel good about myself ever again.”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Joe said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “And you were so worldly, so sophisticated. Talented and driven and successful, with that amazing restaurant. You just had it all, you know? And your family… Jesus, the first time you took me to your parents’ house, I almost died. There I was living in my one-bedroom walk-up, and your place was like something out of a movie, and you all just acted like living in a mansion was nothing at all. And it’s just one of four houses you guys own, and you just grew up like that.” She shook her head. “I felt insecure and dazzled and way, way out of my league in every single way, and I just didn’t have the confidence to call you on anything. Not even when I thought that I should.”

  “But you did it, in the end. You dumped my cheating ass.”

  “I did. It was the scariest thing I’d done in a long time, and I missed you so much, it damn near killed me. But Mom was great, and she helped me stay strong.” Maggie looked at Joe now, her eyes dancing. “And your grandfather told me to stick to my guns, too.”

  Joe choked on his pasta. “He what?”

  “Yep. He came to see me at my studio. Told me to not let you sweet-talk your way back in to my bed, not until you grew up and started to become the man he knew you really were.”

  “Holy hell. Really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, the old man wasn’t ever wrong about much.”

  “That’s what I figured. Steven actually said that he thought you’d come around, though he suspected it’d take you a while. He told me to get on with my life, but to try to keep a window open just a little bit for you to come on back in when you stopped being such a damn self-centered idiot.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “And I did, you know. I was so angry at you for so long, but the truth is that I left a small spot in my heart open for you. I’ve never forgotten some things.”

  “What things?”

  She blushed at the suggestive tone in his voice.

  “You mean bedroom things?” Joe said, teasing her.

  “Not only. I remember other times when we were alone. Times when there was nobody around for you to impress and you’d really show me a different side of yourself. Like that long weekend up at your cottage. Remember that?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s one of my favorite memories.” He smiled. “The stillness and the silence, and cooking for you, and morning coffee on the porch overlooking the lake, and wine in front of the fireplace. And my God, Maggie, the talking. We just never shut up that weekend, did we?”

  “That’s what I recall as well. Lying in bed and talking… really connecting. That was when I really fell in love with you, and after you cheated, I couldn’t let you near me again until I was sure you’d truly changed. I didn’t trust you not to hurt me, and I couldn’t take another direct hit.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. But let me tell you, I’ve missed you for almost two years.” His eyes were warm. “I miss the Maggie from the long weekend at the cottage. I feel like that was you – the real you. Confident and open. Sexy and relaxed. Hot and sweet. God, baby, you just glowed that whole weekend.”

  Maggie was silent.

  “Am I wrong to think that’s the real you?” he said.

  “No, you’re not wrong. That’s me when I’m not all hung up on my insecurities. Probably me at my best...”

  “Well, sweetness, your best is pretty fucking awesome.”

  She stared at him across the table. “So is yours.”

  “You think you know me at my best?”

  “Before tonight, I’d have said no, even if I took in to account that long weekend. But the side of you I’ve seen over the past hour or so… I feel like that’s you, Joe, the you that your grandfather said I should hold out for. And I like it.”

  “You do?” His heart leapt in his chest.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Enough to give me another chance?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  Just then her cell rang, and she jumped. When she saw the number, a wave of fear washed over her. “Oh, no.”

  “What?” Joe asked.

  “It’s the hospital.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide with panic. “They never call me.”

  “Answer, baby. I’m right here, OK?”

  She nodded and put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  Joe watched as all the color drained right out of her face. Alarmed, he stood up and came to her, knelt down again. She reached out and held his hand.

  “OK,” she whispered. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She hung up, looking dazed.

  He touched her cheek. “It’s bad?”

  “It’s almost as bad as it gets.” Maggie stood up shakily, pushing her hands through her hair. “She seized and went in to cardiac arrest. The nurse said I need to get there now… especially since they won’t use any extraordinary measures. If her body starts to shut down, they’re just going to let it happen.” She spoke through the lump in her throat. “I may – I may have to say goodbye.”

  “Goddammit.” Joe grabbed her hand again. “Let’s go.”

  “But – but the lockdown.”

  “Fuck it.”

  He wrapped her jean jacket around her shoulders, ushered her in to the open space and marched her up the stairs, unlocked the door. They stepped in to the street and looked ar
ound for a police officer.

  “OK, let’s start to walk to my car, Maggie. We’ll deal with the cops as we need to.”

  “Alright.”

  Joe held the passenger side door for her, rushed around to the driver’s seat. The engine starting sounded very loud in the empty street, and Maggie looked around again, fully expecting a dozen cops to swarm them, guns drawn.

  “Where are they all?” she said.

  Joe shrugged. “Don’t care. Let’s just worry about the ones at the barricade.”

  “OK.”

  He drove down the block, turned left and Maggie blinked. There were at least ten police officers there, looking seriously pissed off. Joe stopped within five feet of the cars blocking the street and he leaned out his window.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” the one cop hollered, heaving his muscular bulk over to them. He was dyed blond and boasted one heck of a fake tan and looked like he wasn’t old enough to even be shaving yet. “Go back to wherever you came from.”

  Joe fixed him with a hard stare. “Where’s your superior, kid?”

  Maggie gasped.

  “I’m sorry?” The police officer came closer now, furious. “You calling me ‘kid’?”

  “I am,” Joe said calmly. “We have a serious emergency and I’m going to the hospital. Who do I have to speak to about that? Because I know it’s not you, Jersey Shore.”

  The kid looked like he was about to lose his mind, but an older man stepped forward now. “What’s the emergency?”

  “My mother,” Maggie said, her voice trembling. “The nurses told me to get there right away… that I may have to say goodbye to her.”

  The man gazed at her. “Ma’am, we get lots of stories like that, sometimes just because people want to go to the store and buy beer.”

  “Then call the hospital!” she cried. “She’s at St. Luke’s, and her name is Rita Branson. Here – here’s the number to the nurse’s station. Call them.”

  The man was silent for a few seconds, eyeing Maggie, reading her face. Finally, he turned and called to some of the other officers, “Let them pass.”