by Amity Cross
“Neither do I.”
Her fingers traced over my lips. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is. I’ll stand my ground,” I murmured. “I like my legs. I’d like to fight again, but sometimes, the cookie crumbles, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. I’m doing okay at Beat. Sometimes, I struggle, but I have to remind myself it’s only been a year since I got out of rehab.”
“How long were you there for?”
“A year all told. I was flat on my back for months after the fight. Then I had to learn how to manage the pain.”
“You—”
I placed my finger over her lips. “I’m doing okay, Jules. Great, actually. You know, I can finally see tomorrow? For so long, I was just floating… Then you came along.”
She smiled, kissing my fingertip. “Really? Me?”
“We met at exactly the right time.”
Her expression changed, morphing from one thing to another, and I knew her mind was ticking over, attempting to figure out what she wanted to tell me.
“My parents,” she began, hesitantly. “They live on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland… They didn’t want me to move here. Said I was running away.”
“Are they good people?” I asked, wanting to absorb every little thing she told me.
“They are…it’s just… They changed after…” She sighed deeply, breaking eye contact and resting her cheek against my chest. “I needed to get away from everything and start again. Everywhere I turned… I needed to find a way out of the bullshit.”
“And you are,” I whispered. “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve changed in the short time I’ve known you. For the good.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, knowing it was hurting her to talk about her family. “I do.”
“I really like my job,” she went on. “My boss is great. I have some friends there, too. Melbourne is starting to feel like home. I mean, I knew it would be hard, but I never expected…”
“Never expected what?”
“To meet you.”
“Me neither,” I whispered. “Me neither.”
19
Juliette
There’s a moment when you realize things have irrevocably changed.
At first, you don’t notice the progress. You go through the motions, struggling with divulging the things that make up who you are as a person to the man who just might’ve stolen your heart. You fear you’re not good enough, that your opinions and habits will turn him off. But slowly, you reveal yourself piece by piece, and he’s still there…waiting patiently for you to work through your crap.
For me, that man was Caleb. Handsome, powerful, understanding…
After a blissful weekend together, I was flying high. It was Monday morning, and I was on another errand for Jade, rushing through some cover art at the printer a few blocks from the office. The designer had mocked up some choices they wanted to present to a focus group that afternoon, and I was the lucky fool who had to run over and pick up the copies. They’d been mounted on giant pieces of foam poster board a meter tall at least, so cue me struggling to hold open the door to the exit and fit them through all at the same time. There was no way I was damaging the things before I even left the premises.
I was creating quite the comedic scene by the time someone came along. A man in a suit appeared and attempted to help, but our hands grasped the door handle at the same time, and I flinched, snapping back like I’d been zapped with electricity.
“Meagan,” the man said. “Is that you?”
I glanced up and froze, nausea rising thick and fast.
I knew that face like the back of my own hand. I’d lusted after it all through puberty, and it was permanently etched into my long-term memory. People said you never forgot the defining moments during that awkward time in your life—the ones that shaped the person you were to become as an adult—and I would never forget Harry Bonham.
He was the guy I’d crushed on for all of high school and beyond. The guy who stood me up the night Melanie died. The guy who was supposed to take me out for a magical evening. The guy who was supposed to kiss me on the porch and promise me forever. Instead, I came home early and found my sister sliced open on her bed.
I shook my head, desperate to get out of there. “I’m sorry, I don’t think so.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It is you. Your hair is different.” He looked me up and down, his lips curving into a smile. “Very different.”
I edged away, looking for another exit, but we stood by the only one. I would have to go three blocks out of my way to avoid him, and I would be late back to the office. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Facing Harry and the memories I was trying to overcome or suffering Jade Forsyth’s wrath when she was on a deadline.
I clutched the folio to my chest, the packet of poster board almost obscuring my face. Desperately, I tried to avoid eye contact, but he wasn’t letting up.
“It’s me,” he said, pointing to himself. “Harry.”
I stared unblinking, taking in his features as if I was looking at him for the first time. He was as tall as I remembered, his sandy blond hair short on the sides and the top combed back in a model perfect swoop. His navy blue suit was impeccable, his shirt and tie crisp. He held a smartphone in his hand, and it beeped as he received a message, but his green eyes—that I knew were speckled with hazel—were fixed on me.
My breath caught, and it felt like I’d just been bitch-slapped by my past. It followed everywhere I went like a bad smell, letting me know it was catching up. And it would. Catch up with me. It almost had on Saturday night when that drunk guy had shoved it into my face and smeared it around.
Knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this without making a complete fool out of myself, I smiled halfheartedly. “Harry,” I said. “Of course. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I knew it was you, Meg,” he said, causing me to flinch at the sound of my name. My real name. “The hair threw me for a second. You look completely different.”
“Yeah, it’s a little dark.” That was the aim, though. “Do you live in Melbourne now?”
“Yeah. Been here about four years.”
“You were studying business at University, right?”
“Finance,” he corrected. “I’m working for the Commonwealth Bank nowadays. And you? How are you doing?”
His voice lowered as he asked the dreaded question, and I shrugged. “As well as I can, I suppose.”
We stood in awkward silence for a moment, and if I’d had my wits about me, I would’ve gracefully extracted myself from the situation, but I was frozen, my anxiety creeping in around the edges.
“Are you working here now?” he asked, filling the pause.
I nodded. “Yeah, at a publisher a few blocks from here.”
“Boyfriend?”
I thought about Caleb and nodded, the mere mention of him calming me some. “Yeah. He runs a boxing studio in the Northern suburbs.”
“A boxer, hey?” He smiled and shook his head. “Sports and books. I never thought I’d see the two mix. That was always your sister’s jam.”
My smile faded at the offhanded mention of Mel. It was inevitable that she would come up in conversation considering we were all friends in high school, but it still stung.
“I’m really sorry,” Harry blurted. “That night… I was a complete dick to you.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” I replied, staring at the ground. “Mel still would’ve died.”
“Maybe…” he muttered. “But I could’ve spared you from finding her…like that.”
“It’s done,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “What ifs don’t help in hindsight.”
“I’m really sorry, Meg.”
I shrugged and glanced up at him. “It was good to see you, Harry.” Total lie.
I flattened my palm on the door and pushed, stepping out into the sunshine, this time the folio
following without jamming in the gap.
“Hey,” Harry called, having followed me. “Do you want to get a coffee sometime?”
I turned, my gaze meeting his. Once upon a time, I would’ve been elated by the fact that he was asking me out, but now I couldn’t look at him without seeing what was left of Melanie. Of all the bad ideas, meeting up with him again had to be the worst.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
His expression fell, and he stood there looking bewildered.
“See ya, Harry,” I said, backing away. “Good luck with everything.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. As I strode down the street, my heels clacking on the footpath, I felt one metaphoric door close and another open. The short encounter with my past crush had shown me how everyone else had continued moving forward with their lives while I’d stood still, watching them sail past.
I knew I was holding myself back, I’d always known what was wrong on some level, but now I saw how far I’d come since uprooting my existence and shifting it to Melbourne. I especially saw how much I’d come out of my shell since Caleb had taken my hand and shown me the way.
I was still avoiding telling him the whole story, but I wanted to be able to explain things in my own way and in my own time. I wanted to tell him without the memory destroying me in the process. I simply wasn’t ready to face everything that had happened.
I could feel the words forming in my mind, the story clearing, the image sharpening, and ultimately, it was a good thing. The fear I’d been carrying since that night was dispersing. Whatever Caleb had done, it was working.
Slowly and surely, I was healing.
“Where in the bloody hell have you been?” Jade exclaimed, flapping her arms about as I exited the elevator.
She snatched the folio out of my arms and immediately ran into the glass partition behind the reception desk. “Will someone please get the door?”
Rushing around, I pushed the door inward and held it so she could fit through with the cover mock-ups. Following her to the conference room, I assisted in unzipping the case and lifting out the poster board.
As the first cover was revealed, my eyes widened. They were for Alexis Storm’s new romance. I didn’t even know she had anything on rotation with Slattery.
“Fighting Desire,” I read aloud as I placed the first cover on the waiting stand.
“It’s an alternative title for a little book that’s been sitting in your bag the past month or so,” Jade said, pouting.
“The Fighter?” I asked, my mouth dropping open. If only I’d taken more notice. “Seriously? But it was in the slush pile!”
“It was a book Alexis Storm submitted to us under a pseudonym, the cheeky minx,” she declared. “Wanted to see if she could make it as a nobody. Luckily, her agent convinced her to come clean. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have a new title from her for another twelve months!” Jade slapped her forehead. “I can’t believe we rejected her!”
I studied the cover, my gaze raking over the headless, naked, torso of an extremely well-built man. His fists were clad in a pair of boxing gloves and held up in a fighting stance. I smiled, wondering if Caleb would agree to pose for an Alexis Storm cover. He certainly had the goods.
“Lesson one in marketing,” Jade declared. “What you want is not necessarily what the reading public wants…and a name is everything.”
A name was everything. I frowned, studying each cover as Jade placed them on the waiting easels.
“We work hard to build a reputation on an author brand, and I guarantee, most of our sales will come from that alone,” she went on, continuing her lesson. “There are plenty of people who know they’re in for a good time if this book came from Alexis. A perfect example is J.K. Rowling and her mysteries. No one wanted to know Robert what’s-his-name.” She flung her arms into the air. “See?”
“Then how do you know an author is going to become like Alexis?” I asked. “Is a name really so important?”
“One, we do what we can by studying what people want. There’s always an element of risk with a new book, no getting around it.” She ticked off her answers on her fingers as she went. “And two, a name is everything, Jules. A name tells the world who you are. You can’t fake genuine identity. The cream always rises…and we’re looking for the cream.” Turning to the four different cover choices that now lined one end of the conference room, she went on, “The editors find the goods. Then there’s you and me. We’re here to package the creamy goodness in chiseled abs.”
I turned back to the covers, studying the various poses and color combinations. The cream always rises…or in my case curdled when it finally got up there.
It was a pretty accurate metaphor. My life seemed full of them lately, and I wondered if I really did believe in omens, crazy prophecies, and all that mystical guidance stuff. If I stopped and listened, maybe the universe was trying to tell me something. Really, I reckoned it was practically screaming into my face, but I was too stupid to realize.
I had to confide in Caleb. I had to lay it all out before I fell any deeper. If he learned the truth and wanted to end things, then it would hurt less than if he found out from someone else. I had to face my past once and for all and tell him. Maybe then I’d be able to find some semblance of closure.
“Now,” Jade said, pulling me back to the present. “Which cover do you like? I think the focus group is going to pick number three. Nice lighting on the abs, they really pop, and the title sits over him at just the right angle. See there? There’s a great cock bulge right in the middle of the letter o.” She slapped her hand over it and smiled wickedly. “Nice, huh?”
20
Caleb
All I could think about was Juliette.
I was beginning to understand all those idiots who always fobbed off their mates to spend time with their girlfriends. I felt like calling in a sick day and busting her out of work. Our weekend together had been really great, and I hadn’t been ready to let her go home last night.
This was how it was supposed to feel, right? When you found the one?
Monday morning at Beat wasn’t anything special. It was the same routine day in, day out, and that was what I liked about it. Order, control, structured training toward a very specific goal. There was only one moment I could recall that had thrown a spanner in the works, and its name was Tommy. Thankfully, he hadn’t caused any trouble after I sacked him, leaving me free to enjoy my time with Juliette.
For once, life was good just the way it was. That was until my phone rang.
The boys and I were in the weight room, going through our daily reps, and when I saw the caller ID, I could’ve hurled my dumbbell right through the window. Dad had chosen the most opportune moment once again. His bullshit radar was calibrated, that was for sure.
Sighing, I set down the weight and rose to my feet, answering the call as I pushed out into the studio.
“Dad,” I said, my voice clipped. Seeing the cardio room was empty, I closed myself inside.
“When were you going to mention to me that you are seeing someone?”
Immediately, I pinched the bridge of my nose, a raging headache threatening to overwhelm me.
“Hopefully, never,” I retorted.
“First, you take a position at that pathetic excuse for a gym, and now you’re committing yourself to a woman. What’s happened to you, Caleb? You were always so focused.”
“Unlike you,” I shot back, my hackles rising. “Are you sure you don’t need to get your brain scanned?”
“I want to meet this woman,” he said, ignoring me. “I’ve had your mother organize dinner on Saturday night.”
“How do you even know I’m seeing someone?” I demanded.
“I have my ways.” By that, he meant he’d had someone follow me. It sounded like something out of a spy movie, but unfortunately, that was how Vincent Carmichael dealt with the problem that was his wayward son. With as much tac
t as a limp dick with a wad of cash.
“We’ve been together barely two weeks,” I snapped. “And you want me to bring her to one of our awkward family dinners?”
“I’ve never seen you interested in a woman for longer than two days,” he stated. “Or have you forgotten that I was by your side the entire length of your career? I saw more than you will ever realize, Caleb.”
He was telling the truth, about him being there and the various women I never settled with, but he’d conveniently left out the bit where he’d dropped me the moment he realized I was done. I was such a disappointment.
Ultimately, he wanted me back in training so he could go on pretending everything was like it used to be. I’d been a puppet—a willing one—but my strings were still being pulled. Having me watched by some creep was his idea of continuing the same control outside of the ring. He had to get it through his thick skull that I was my own man now.
I wasn’t sure he’d ever loved me as a son, but I sure as hell knew he’d loved me as the next boxing middleweight champion of the world. Knowing it stung like a bitch.
“Dad—”
“Stop being so difficult,” he snapped.
“Stop having me followed like a criminal, then we’ll talk,” I shot back. “Seriously, Dad. I’m a grown-ass man, and I can make my own decisions.”
“We only ever wanted the best for you.”
“I know, Dad, but what’s best for me now is figuring things out on my own for a change. I’m the one who was injured, not you. I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout. I have to live it. I can’t go back. I won’t risk becoming paralyzed.”
“We will discuss this on Saturday night,” he said, his temper wearing thin.
“It depends,” I said, my own fuse burning extremely short.
“On?”
“Juliette,” I replied. “She has work commitments this weekend.”
“And she has a commitment to you. Saturday night, Caleb. Your mother will tell you where.” There was a click on the other end, and I pulled my phone away from my ear, glancing at the screen with a scowl. He’d hung up on me. Great.
