Shadowboxer

by Cari Quinn

  “You’re really gone on her, aren’t you?” She pursed her lips and nodded. “Good. I’m glad. She deserves someone like you.”

  “Like me?” A semi-narcissistic, spoiled, rich boy brawler?

  “Yes. Someone honorable and decent.” Smiling faintly, she reached up to grab my bicep. “And hella strong.”

  Surprised by the sudden tension in my shoulders, I hunched them. “She might disagree with you. She thinks she can kick my ass.”

  “Suicide mission,” she said quietly, reaffirming my thoughts.

  Part of me wondered if Mia had known all along she would lose against me. If subconsciously she wanted to.

  Carly edged back, but I withdrew the gloves from my sweatshirt pocket and pressed them into her hand. “I want you to give her these, but you have to be sneaky about it. She can’t know they came from me. Just pretend they were a gift from some old aunt or something and you hate them, okay?”

  She stroked them reverently. “They’re butter-soft. They had to have cost a fortune.” She pulled them on.

  “Just make sure she doesn’t connect them to me. And don’t tell her I was here tonight.” When she didn’t respond, I squeezed her fingers, now snugly wrapped in leather. “Promise me, Carly. It’s for her own good.”

  “I don’t like lying to my sister.”

  “There isn’t any other choice right now. Promise me.”

  Nodding, she tugged off the gloves and set them on the solitary free spot on the counter. The rest of it was crammed with bakeware. “I’ll keep your secret, Fox.” Her eyes twinkled. “Sorry, Tray.”

  “Uh huh.” I ruffled her hair and she squealed and pushed me back, much like Slater’s little sister did when I messed with her. It made me smile. Some parts of life were still normal. Not everything was tragic.

  Just too fucking much.

  “Thanks. I’ll only be a couple minutes.”

  I headed down the hall to Mia’s room and carefully opened the door. The drawn curtains let in a sliver of light that trailed over the spill of dark hair on her pillow. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her and bury my face in it while I enfolded her in my arms. I’d never been a snuggler before. Now it was all I wanted.

  She shifted onto her back and the nightshirt she wore inched up her thighs, leaving her almost on display. My mouth watered.

  So snuggling wasn’t all I wanted.

  Her stillness didn’t last long. She whimpered and stirred against the sheet bunched around her calves. I took a step toward her before I caught myself. Was she having a nightmare? A sleep aid might knock her out, but it wasn’t anesthesia. If I got in with her, she would know.

  After a moment, she flipped on her other side. Her breathing became low and deep. She was truly asleep. The long, curved line of her back through thin cotton was too much of a temptation. I needed to hold her, even if she didn’t realize I was doing it. Especially then. For once I didn’t want her to resist the comfort I so wanted to give.

  It was worth the risk.

  I toed off my sneakers and eased her aside, murmuring softly when she kicked out. She soon dropped back into sleep and I nudged her closer to the wall so I could sort of half-lie down beside her. She smelled like soap as she usually did, clean and crisp. Innocent. How she could still have some innocence left inside her after what she’d endured was one of the world’s mysteries, but I thanked God for it.

  “Never again,” I whispered, pressing my lips to her shoulder. “No one will ever harm you again, Mia.” She would always be Mia to me. Mine. “I promise you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mia

  “Breakfast is ready, sunshine. Hurry up. The sale’s already started.”

  I moaned and rolled over to bury my face in the pillow. Yesterday I’d had to get up early to get to the gym before work, which had been an experience in agony considering the bruises and aches I’d earned in the ring the night before. Now I faced an even worse fate on the day I’d optimistically planned to use for sleep and recuperation.

  Shopping with my sister. Dear God, save my mortal soul.

  “I have bacon,” she said in a singsong voice.

  At the mere suggestion, my deprived taste buds started quivering.

  “And scrambled eggs with button mushrooms and fresh grapefruit.”

  Moaning again, I fought to ignore my growling stomach. “I need to sleep.”

  “You’ve slept two nights in a row with the help of those knockout pills. Not going to make it three, by the way.” Carly tried to lift up one of my eyelids.

  I grunted out a laugh as I shoved her away.

  “Come on, you know you want my eats. My breakfast brings all the boys to the yard.” She hummed the song “Milkshake.” I laughed again and crossed my arms over my head. Which made me moan again, thanks to the fist-sized bruise on my right arm.

  “Car, stick my food on the warming plate and let me sleep. Please.” I wasn’t above begging, not when it meant a possible reprieve from the mall on a Sunday. “Please.”

  “No fricking way. They have purple Uggs on sale at Wicks. I’m so buying them for an early birthday gift to myself. Aunt Patty gave me money.”

  “No way. You can’t spend that much on a pair of boots.” I shot up in bed. Okay, so I jerked up and then sagged like a marionette with broken strings, but at least I was upright. Mostly. “If you need boots, we’ll get some at the thrift. Those will last you for the rest of this winter. Next winter we’ll be somewhere warm.”

  “You don’t know that.” She pouted. “We could still be here, if Fox doesn’t fight you.”

  “He’s going to fight me.” Besides, even if he didn’t, that didn’t mean we were stuck in New York forever. I’d had tunnel vision about making enough seed money in one go to get us out of the city, but I could earn enough cash to leave in other ways. I hated the idea of delaying our future, but the time had come to acknowledge I didn’t have control of this situation.

  If Fox fought me and I made enough to make it worth my while, excellent. Succeeding—for once—at something I set out to do would be frigging lovely. Any extra cash beyond what we needed for the move would go toward her college fund. But if he didn’t fight me or I didn’t make as much money as I planned, it didn’t matter. Car and I would sock away our cash, bide our time just a bit longer, and still be gone before spring.

  Uggs were not part of the equation.

  Carly rolled her eyes. “Says who? You? You can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to.”

  “He already agreed, and I don’t want to talk about Fox. I want to go back to sleep.” Halfway slouched into my pillow again, I yelped as Carly grabbed hold of my ear and twisted. “What was that for?”

  “You’ve slept plenty. You’re going to eat and shop like a normal woman and stop hiding in this bed.” Shaking her head, my sister tugged at my threadbare blanket. “It’s not even warm.”

  “It’s warm enough.” It really wasn’t, and I’d had to temper the urge to burrow under Fox’s coat about ten times last night. I probably would’ve given in if I hadn’t been sure smelling him would make me cry. So instead, I’d crowded into Carly’s back until she got annoyed and went to sleep on the couch.

  She perched on the edge of my bed, her cheeks entirely too pink and her eyes way too bright and blue. She practically vibrated with life and exuberance, while I…did not. “You need Uggs even more than I do. You have zero body fat. Your toes must freeze every time you step outside. Maybe we’ll find a two-for-one sale?”

  I set my mouth in a hard line. I refused to be swayed. Again. “Uggs are a fashion boot. If your feet are cold, you can have some of the socks I got at the army and navy sto—” I stopped at her peal of laughter. “What’s so funny? I have some in the package that I haven’t worn yet.”

  “Ame, you’re twenty-one, not fifty. You desperately need to spend some money on a frivolous purchase. When was the last time you bought something fun? Like, I dunno, a new jean skirt or a new shirt, or hey, w
hat about a new bra and panty set?” She gave me a sly look. “Fox would eat you up in lace.”

  My face heated and I had to struggle against the urge to grab my blanket and pull it over my head. Why was I so uncomfortable when it came to sex? I shouldn’t have had any modesty left. But Car knew the real me, and that made my tough girl act a lot more difficult to pull off.

  “Fox won’t be eating me in anything,” I muttered, flushing at her giggle. I grabbed my pillow and hit her with it, laughing as she tried unsuccessfully to rip it away. My hands still ached like hell from Friday’s fight, but sometimes my strength came in handy.

  And sometimes it created barriers between me and other people I wanted to get close to, even if it was dangerous.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. He seems pretty persistent about chowing down when it comes to you.” She pushed the pillow into my chest. “You should totally shock the hell out of him with some skimpy lingerie. You’d blow his mind.” She waggled her brows. “And maybe a few other things.”

  “God, you’re terrible.” I tried to keep my face straight, but it was almost impossible when she was leering at me. “We’re not seeing each other anymore. If we ever were.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you’re in here hiding out in bed? Weak, Sis. Completely weak.” She rose and tugged on my hand. “If you’re miserable about ending it with a guy, you don’t go into hibernation mode. You make him see what he’s missing by flaunting your sexy bod until he drowns in a puddle of his own drool. Don’t you know anything?”

  “Apparently not.” I resisted the pull of her hand by planting my ass and refusing to budge. I was sore and cranky and stubborn, and even her intergalactic perkiness couldn’t improve my mood. “I don’t want to flaunt and I don’t want him to drool. I just want to fight him and move on. Jesus, stop pulling on my hand. I’m already in enough pain.”

  Her grip lessened, but she didn’t let go. “Want more ibuprofen?”

  “No. I’m okay.” Blowing out a breath, I focused on the bony kneecap outlined by my blanket. That’s what I was. All bones and sinew, nothing warm and soft. I liked it that way. Or I had once. “When are you going to tell me why you’re here anyway? What about school?” I’d intended to ask those questions yesterday, but my post-fight haze hadn’t left me real coherent.

  The post-Fox haze wasn’t worth mentioning.

  “You need me,” Carly said simply.

  “Carly. What about school?”

  “I swear, everything’s fine. If you come to the mall, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “You’ll tell me everything regardless.” Her hopeful look cut through my gloom. I sighed. “How about online shopping?”

  “Lame. Don’t make me bring out the big guns.” She tugged something out of her ridiculously tight jeans—something we would be discussing later after I’d sucked down a quart of coffee—and waved it. A tiny purple spritzer bottle of perfume trailed scent through the air. “I’ll bathe your ass in Luscious Lavender, bitch, unless you stop acting like a wuss and come eat some breakfast with your adorable baby sister who makes one hell of a rockin’ omelet.”

  I couldn’t hold back my grin. She looked so fierce standing there with her bottle of perfume. I knew it wasn’t an idle threat. She’d make me stink so bad I’d never be able to walk into the gym again.

  “Fine. Have it your way.” I held up both hands. “I’ll get dressed and be out in fifteen minutes.”

  Carly lowered her perfume. “And after breakfast we’ll go to the mall?”

  It would take a stronger woman than I to say no to those pleading baby blues. “If you insist.”

  “And you’ll let me get purple Uggs?”

  “Absolutely not, and don’t push your luck, Carly Ann. Now get out of here.”

  Her giggle as she disappeared down the hall made my grin widen despite the aches and pains I couldn’t laugh away. Damn, I was getting too old to fight. Or too weak.

  I was definitely too weak to go to the mall, but I dragged myself up and into the shower anyway.

  An hour later, we were standing at the counter of a lingerie store and Car was shifting through a rainbow of bras with the focus of a lawyer about to take the bar exam. She selected and rejected faster than I could make sense of the swimming sea of frilly underthings that surrounded me. They hung off hollow-hipped models and seemed to drip from the rafters, closing me into a claustrophobic world of satin and silk and see-through nipple cutouts.

  I hadn’t been in a store like this for a long time. Not long enough, apparently.

  “I like you in pretty things, Amelia. You were made for silk. You’re so delicate and soft…”

  I shuddered and forced the memory away. Not any fucking more. No one would ever accuse me of that again.

  “What size are you? Thirty-six C?”

  Oh God, no. She couldn’t be looking for something for me. “Thirty-four B. And I have plenty of bras. I don’t need any more.”

  “How many is plenty? Two?”

  “Three.” Someday I’d really have to stop being so honest. It only got me in more trouble.

  “Ah ha! This is perfect.” She ferreted out another hanger and beamed as she held up a skimpy black bra with tiny white polka dots and a pair of sleek black boy shorts. “Who needs a matching set when you can mix it up like this? This totally has a sexy fighter feel.”

  “Fighters aren’t sexy.”

  “Fox is sexy. Times fifty. Have you seen his arms? Holy mother of fucking.” At my narrow-eyed look, she laughed. ”Guess you’ve seen them up close and personal like. He must thrust like a damn—”

  “Enough. Seriously.” Discussing Fox’s thrusting power was almost as bad as buying purple boots. Actually, it was worse.

  I didn’t fantasize about Uggs. I did, however, fantasize about strong arms holding me while he blasted my comfort zone to hell and back.

  “Dude, it’s got a little zipper right over the cooch.”

  I tried to turn away but she snagged my arm before I could. “Cooch? Cooch?” I sounded like a drunk mimic but I couldn’t help it. My sweet, innocent, non-vulgarity using sister had disappeared. I’d wanted her to be normal and have friends, and fine, maybe even have sex. That didn’t mean I was prepared for the results—namely that she’d be trying to school me in all the ways of the world she thought I’d missed. “I don’t need a zipper over my…female areas.”

  She laughed. “It’s a pussy, Ame.”

  That particular word made me think of the last person who’d said it to me, and I didn’t appreciate the reminder. Reminder ten million of the day. “Watch your mouth. You’re out in public.”

  “Stop treating me like I’m ten.” She sighed heavily. “I’m not a virgin, you know.”

  Yeah, I knew. But hearing the words was different. And if I teared up a little inside because that last vestige of her innocence was gone, no one had to know but me.

  “I’m glad,” I said finally when the lump in my throat had dissipated.

  Her pale eyebrow winged up. “You are?”

  “Yeah. Because maybe you won’t end up a socially inept freak like me.”

  “Aww, Ame.” She hooked her arm through mine. “You’re not a freak. You did it with Fox, and he’s a specimen of man unlike any other. I guarantee that was way better than Bobby Horton sliding me his anemic sausage after Homecoming last year.” She brightened. “Josh was pretty good at it. So naturally he had to go back to Nina. Boys blow.”

  “You’ve been using protection?”

  “Yes.” She made the word six syllables long. “Can we buy dirty lingerie now?”

  “Why? So we can parade around the apartment? No one will see it but us.”

  “So? We count, don’t we?” She shook the bra and panty set that actually was kind of cute in the right light. “C’mon, live a little. Let’s sign up for one of their charge cards and buy a bunch of stuff.”

  “Are you kidding me? Just one. We’ll each buy one set—in cash—and that’s all. You h
ave college to think about soon. At least community college if not a big university yet.”

  Blithely, she tugged me along. She never mentioned college anymore, which was yet another concern on my lengthy list.

  “One set each works for me.”

  Just like that I knew I’d been had by a scheming redhead. Yet again. “Nothing too revealing,” I added, though the admonition was pointless. Lingerie was supposed to be revealing. But if I kept her away from the see-through stuff, I’d consider the day a win.

  “Yeah, yeah. So—cooch zipper or no?”

  I had to laugh as we headed into the dressing room. “No freaking way.”

  Two hours later, we faced each other across a dinky table in the food court. Bags—of lingerie, of clothes, of boots—surrounded us. We hadn’t gone too wild. Besides, Carly’s birthday was coming up soon. A big one at that. But I’d be up late crunching numbers to cover the money we’d spent.

  Seeing my sister happy was worth everything. And hell, shopping had helped to take my mind off crap for a couple of hours. All I did was worry. I was heading for old age without even taking a scenic detour through my youth, and it sucked.

  “So, what are you waiting for?” Carly waved a hand at our snack. “Dig in.”

  “I will in a minute.”

  “More for me then. Mmm.” She swirled her thumb through the cheese on our steaming platter of cheddar fries and licked it off with an extremely loud noise that bordered on obscene. After her third, “Ooh, yeah,” I decided to nip her enjoyment in the bud.

  “Tell me about school, Car. Are you skipping? Did you need a mental health break or something?”

  She swallowed a fry and took her time sucking more cheese off her fluorescent green fingernail. “I did my G.E.D. I’m all finished.”

  It didn’t compute. “What?”

  “I studied and took the G.E.D. last month. I’m done with school.”

  God, not her too. I’d skipped half my senior year and taken the G.E.D. as well, much to my Aunt Patty’s displeasure. But I’d been having serious issues with fitting in and I hadn’t been able to deal with cliques and all the usual high school BS on top of my PTSD. At least that’s what the school nurse had called it. I called it my general fuckedupness.