by Shannyn Leah
“We agree on something,” Stone gritted out.
She’d never looked at him as less than her. “Stone—”
He held a hand up. “You had your chance ten years ago. You took the easy way out.”
“The easy way? You think that was easy?”
His fist slammed against the table, shaking the cards. “You don’t get to play the victim.”
“There’s your temper.”
“Reed!” Bowie yelled at him.
Stone stood and Bowie panicked, reaching for him. Her fingers slid down his wrist as he made it apparent touching him was off limits. “Please, don’t go.” He was Reed’s only chance.
“She’s not asking for you,” Reed snickered. “She’s trying to save me. If it comes to me or you, she will always choose me, I’m her blood. You were just her daddy’s favorite—”
Stone’s chair scraped against the floor and fell over in the same instant he cruised around the table and captured Reed’s throat in one hand.
“Stone!” Bowie shouted jumping from her chair and meeting him on the other side of her brother.
Gasps and screams clanged with more scraping chairs and hiked voices, but all Bowie could hear was her brother snickering and baiting Stone. Susan and Emerie stood back and even Hawk didn’t interfere. The only person who stepped in was Slate. He grabbed a handful of Stone’s shirt with a firm grip. “Son...”
“He’s drunk and stupid,” Bowie pleaded. Although, if she’d thought he would remember in the morning, a punch in the face might do her brother some good.
Stone pressed Reed’s back against the chair. “Here’s what’s going to happen—”
Reed laughed, so drunk he still thought he had the upper hand. “As if you ever had a say in this household.”
“Tomorrow, I train, but before that, you’ll meet me in the exercise room to do your physiotherapy.”
Bowie shook her head and blinked. “What?” What was Stone talking about?
“Right, like you’ll still be here tomorrow.”
Stone looked at her. “Bowie?”
“Yes?”
“Can you arrange for his physiotherapy for tomorrow morning?”
They’d hired private nurses, nurses he generally chased away each session. “Yes.”
Stone tipped Reed’s head up to look at him. “We start tomorrow morning and will continue until you are out of this chair. And when you’ve recovered, you can step into a ring with me.”
Stone shoved off him and sent his chair rolling backward. Reed grasped his neck, rubbing where Stone’s fingers had been. “You will have to strangle me before I agree to sessions with you.”
Stone pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Here’s the thing. You may have had control over your sister in the past, but right now, I hold all the cards. In order to save you, Bowie needs me. If you’re a no-show I will be at your suite first thing in the morning, with the camera on my cell phone recording. Whatever shit you pull, whining, complaining ... even if I have to break your door down, I will record it all. If you don’t attend your session, I will release the videos. Do you understand? The world will see all your jogging pants and dirty ass T-shirts.”
The color drained from his already pale skin. “You can’t—”
Stone looked at Bowie. “Do you plan on stopping me?”
She shook her head.
“Is Duke going to stop me?”
Another shake of her head.
He looked back at Reed. “You’ve pissed off every source you know. This time, you listen to me and you will do your sessions. I’m not asking.” Stone turned to Susan. “Thank you for supper.”
“You’re welcome.”
Stone walked out of the room leaving a handful of stunned people in his wake.
Reed turned his chair and wheeled to Bowie. “Go get control over that monster! You invited him in here and he’s crazy.”
She glowered at her brother. “I’m done listening to you. If you have something to say to him, say it yourself.” She left her drunken brother and chased Stone down the hallway. “Stone!”
He didn’t slow down or turn to face her.
“Stone, please?” She touched his arm and his abrupt jolt made her jump back.
“No.” He shook his arms, not looking at her, but pacing the width of the hall before he stopped in front of her. “You don’t get an explanation. You don’t get your turn to talk. I almost died in that ring. Died, for you.”
“I didn’t know—”
“No!” His loudness made her jump a second time. “I would’ve stepped into a hundred matches after that one to be with you and you let him—” He pointed down the hallway. “Him...” He didn’t finish his sentence. “Stay the hell away from me until the fight.”
Chapter Eleven
STONE COULDN’T SLEEP, which didn’t surprise him since he’d never been one to spend a lot of hours in bed. Late to bed and early to rise, but at his place he always had something in his shop that needed tending to. His dad’s old car, the snow blower, or his bike. He intentionally kept a project on-hand to keep him occupied through the long, sleepless nights. Television and books held no interest for him. He’d always rather use his hands to fix, build, create ... fight.
But tonight was different. Tonight he found himself traveling the halls of the Blake estate because no distraction could quell the anger inside him, the betrayal, the lies and years wasted.
The familiar walls were now beige instead of green and the hardwood floors replaced the once grey carpet. He remembered the hours he’d spent gutting his own house to hang new insulation, drywall, and wood floors. He’d considered building a fitness room in one of the empty bedrooms. There were three spare rooms he’d never occupy with nurseries or his children’s bedrooms. But he’d decided against it, afraid of spending hours practicing on a punching bag and craving the real fight. Instead of taking the chance, he pumped weights at his dad’s gym, where the fighting ring mocked his failure as a fighter and left a sour taste in his mouth, but it was a reality that kept him on his straight path.
All his thoughts tonight led him to Oscar’s kickass gym in the basement. The underground fighter had installed red turf lining the perimeter of the basement with top-of-the-line equipment around a central fighting ring.
Stone stepped up to the punching bag which had become his enemy. This bag always got him into trouble. When he used to argue with his father, he’d take his frustration out on the bag. When he’d decided to fight, this bag pressed his craving further. And when he’d wanted to walk away from fighting Walker only two days ago, the punching bag at his dad’s gym had given him the adrenaline to keep his word.
Yes, the punching bag was his enemy but, like they said, keep your enemies close.
He stepped back and took a swing. His flat fist hit the bag straight on and pure adrenaline vibrated up his arm.
She’d known.
He punched again.
She’d pushed him away in order to protect her brother from Stone’s wrath if he ever discovered his involvement in Walker’s pounding, even after Stone had almost died for them.
Another punch.
She’d known.
Each blow landed with more power than the one before.
He hadn’t realized how many pent-up emotions pulsed through his body until he let loose. What began as a few punches soon became a full-fledged beating that had him panting until his chest burned. He tried to out-beat Bowie’s betrayal, Reed’s heartless actions, and Susan’s cancer. His inward battle turned angrier as a mixed torrent of wanting to drill Walker to the ground and wishing he’d never been given the opportunity to do so.
Stone stopped and bent down, pressing his hands to his knees to catch his breath. Pain throbbed in his hand. He’d need to ice them before they swelled.
He grabbed his T-shirt, using it to wipe away the sweat beading down his face. Once he finished, he threw it over his shoulders and jogged back to his room. After a quick, cold shower, he changed h
is clothes and made his way to the kitchen for some ice. He dug handfuls of it out of the ice maker, depositing the cubes into a tea towel. Sitting at the kitchen island, he took turns icing his hand while using his free hand to do research on his cell phone.
Hours could’ve gone by—he never paid attention to clocks during the night. He searched and read articles, blogs, medical sites all relating to breast cancer. No matter what or how much he read, the next topic offered additional information, until the words began to blur together.
He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, grimacing at the pain of his knuckles. His dad would be ticked at him in the morning for not wrapping his hands. He knew better. Hitting a bag without gloves would not only bruise and tear his skin but would cause long-term damages to the joints and bones of his hands. He didn’t have weeks of recovery time available and needed to be smart about his straining—or in this case, venting.
Stretching his sore hands, he decided he better regain his control. He looked up from his bruising hands to find Susan wearing a quizzical look. “What do we have here?”
He almost drew his hands under the lip of the counter to hide the evidence.
“A momentary control lapse.”
“Mmm-hmm. Looks like a stress beating right there.”
Stone shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing that won’t heal.”
“Are we talking about your hands or your struggles?”
He smirked at her. “I only need my hands to heal.’”
She laughed. “Stubborn and foolish. Just like I remember. Let me make you a cup of tea to help you sleep.”
Stone jumped to his feet remembering this lady’s love of loose teas and Bowie’s collection of herbs. “Let me make you a tea.” He ushered her around the kitchen counter to sit on a stool. “Are your teas still in here?” He hiked a thumb toward the old wooden tea cupboard on the far end of the counter.
“Yes, but I—”
When she began to slip off the stool to assist him, he held up his hand and pointed a warning finger at her. She straightened in the seat and folded her arms on the counter. “Very well.”
Stone opened the doors of the tea cupboard and found five rows of drawers to choose from labeled with names he didn’t recognize—magic dragon, chai, oolong....
He grabbed his phone and scrolled the recipes he’d saved earlier in his bookmarks until he found the specific one he had in mind.
He pulled open a drawer and found the loose leaves.
What on earth was he supposed to do with these? Drop them directly in the tea? Then scoop them back out after they sit? How long did they sit? He needed a strainer. Maybe he should pull a video up with a tea recipe he could stick to.
“There are tea balls in the bottom drawer,” Susan said. “You fill the tea ball with your tea leaves, let it steep, and then remove the ball when your tea is ready.”
“Thanks.” He opened a tea ball and abided the instructions, measuring the loose leaves required and adding them. Carrying the tea ball he disappeared in the pantry in search of Bowie’s herbs—if she still had any. To his luck, he found another cupboard similar to the tea cupboard and also neatly labeled. A few curses at his big fingers later as he’d tried to spoon the fine ingredients into the ball, he finished the recipe and struggled to twist the lid closed.
When he exited the pantry, he saw Susan had put on the kettle and fetched two white-colored wide-brimmed coffee mugs with Bowie’s name scribbled across it in neon pink.
“She tries to throw these mugs out, but I like them,” the older woman said. “She pretends that time in her life didn’t happen. Partially because her dad died during that time, a little because she’s embarrassed at her behavior for the show, but mostly because it reminds her of you.”
Stone rested his arms on the counter and leaned closer to the older woman across from him. “I don’t want to talk about her. This is an opportunity to fight Walker for what he did.”
“And Reed.”
Stone huffed. “You can’t protect someone who can’t keep their foot out of their mouth. If he wasn’t in a chair...” Stone would’ve kicked the shit out of him.
“As I recall, you often ran your mouth into trouble.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“And now? Tell me about yourself.”
“I’ve moved back to Willow Valley. I live in the country, but I don’t own animals. I have a shop full of projects that keep me busy when I’m not working full time at my friend Dax’s shop.”
“No ring on your finger. Is there a special someone in your life?”
“I’m looking at her.”
Susan’s cheeks turned a shade of cherry red and she swatted at him as the kettle sounded its boiling point. “Charming as ever, I see.”
He dropped the tea ball he’d prepared into one of the mugs. “Some things never change.” He winked before unplugging the kettle and carrying it back to the counter.
“I see the charming gene passed onto you from that...” She paused. “Charismatic father of yours.”
Stone laughed. That was one way to describe his father. Miserable, drunk, and living on a past dream sounded more appropriate.
Susan placed a teabag in his mug and, without questioning which flavor she’d chosen for him, he filled both mugs to the brim. He slid her mug across the counter in front of her. She wrapped her fingers around it and he did the same, remaining on the opposite side of the counter so he could watch her.
“So no one special, huh?”
“No one. Unless you count this sweet little seven-year-old gal who visits the shop and gabs my ear off about what I’m doing wrong.”
Her smile widened. “Do tell.”
“She’s Dax’s stepdaughter and I don’t know if she spends more time washing trucks at the fire station or getting her hands dirty at the shop.”
Susan laughed. “I’m impressed. It almost sounds like she knows more about cars than you do.”
“My pride wants to say no, but the truth is, she’s brilliant under the hood.” Stone sipped the hot tea, recognizing a lemon flavor.
Susan blew the top of her tea before taking a sip. Her lips scrunched together, her eyes widened in horror and she wrinkled her forehead looking like she wanted to spit the drink out. Finally, she swallowed and let out a disgusted sound. “What the hell is that?”
“Tea.”
“Are you trying to kill me?”
Stone’s face turned serious. “That’s not funny.”
“No, that’s not funny.” She pointed at the cup and then reached for a napkin from the holder. It was too far away so Stone reached over and slid it toward her.
“That’s good for you.”
“Ohhh ... I see what’s going on here.” She dabbed her mouth. “Bowie told you about the cancer.”
He was never one to give up his sources, but he didn’t have anything to lose. “Yes.”
“It’s not a good time.”
Stone walked around the counter to sit in the empty stool beside the older woman. “Is it ever a good time for cancer?”
“Emerie was just accepted to a residency program at the children’s hospital before I found out about my cancer. I’m excited for her, but I can see her debating her decision, as if I’d allow her to throw away eight years of schooling to take care of me. Yet, here she is, insisting on taking me to my appointments and sticking around to make sure I don’t exert myself. This is her time and she’s too worried about me.” The older woman sighed and reached for Stone’s tea. He let her have it, seeing she needed something to sleep more than him. “Then there’s Reed who’s given up on life and I’m watching Bowie forget the life she worked hard on building to tend to her brother.”
The woman had too many worries. Here Stone had been selfishly worrying about things that seemed minimal compared to the worry on Susan’s plate ... and what life had Bowie worked so hard to build?
“Ahhh, I see the curiosity at the mention of her.” The older woman nudged his leg.
“There’s no curiosity. Anger. I feel angry.”
Mostly angry at himself for being angry at Reed’s declaration.
“Bowie pulled herself out of the spotlight and stepped into the shoes of a woman. I couldn’t have been more proud watching her cut her ties with the people who had never been good for her.” She paused and huffed a breath. “Reed’s people. While that boy continued to live on the edge, Bowie pulled away. She spent years searching for herself until she leveled to a content place.”
“Susan, with all due respect, I don’t care. I can’t care. You were there this evening and she knew. She knew Reed paid Walker to make sure I lost that fight. She protected Reed, that smug son of a bitch.” He shook his head, his nose flaring as he inhaled deeply to stay calm. “He thinks I don’t deserve her? I would never put her in a situation where she had to choose. Never.”
Susan watched her pointer finger run around the rim of her mug. “Was it Reed she was protecting?”
“Yes, from me because if I’d have found out, I would’ve crushed him.”
“Would you have?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm...”
“What?”
Susan shrugged. “I can’t help but wonder why you didn’t crush him today? He deserved it. I love the boy, but he’s always been a selfish, spoiled brat. But tonight, you chose to make him fight for his life.”
“Because when he’s walking, I will crush him.”
“Will you?”
“Why do you keep questioning me?”
Her sincere smile touched his heart. “I don’t believe that’s who you are.”
But she didn’t know him anymore. She didn’t understand the fury built up inside him ready to release, ready to fight.
Stone touched her hand. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. Focus on yourself and not everyone else. Once you’re better, either they’ll have figured their lives out on their own or you’ll be there to help them pick up the pieces. But you can only help them if you keep your strength to fight the battle you have ahead.”
She sipped the tea again finishing with a sigh then perched a single eye at him. “This needs a bit of your father’s rum.”
