Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

“Did you really think I was Reaper?”

  “What was I supposed to think? I hear a guy with tattoos like that,” I said, gesturing up and down, “is here in town. Yeah, I thought it was Reaper, here to finish what he started on the inside.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about him. A guy like that has bigger problems than some kid who fucked him up a few times. Besides, he’ll do something stupid and get himself locked up again sooner rather than later. If they’re smart, they won’t let him out next time.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope you’re right.”

  “Don’t lose sleep over it.”

  I glanced away. “That’s assuming I can sleep.”

  “It’s tough, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Coming back. Making the switch to the real world.”

  The waitress came back with two beers. He politely thanked her, then took a drink.

  I nodded slowly and took a swig of my beer. “Yeah. It is tough.”

  “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

  “You mean it’s not because you missed me?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Have you been following me?”

  “Following you? Nah, man. I saw you go into a gym yesterday, but you didn’t see me. I figured I’d run into you sooner rather than later, so I didn’t go in. Like I said, this town is nice. I thought I’d spend a couple days here regardless.”

  He hadn’t been following me?

  Shit. That should have been good news. Obviously I didn’t want to be followed. But it meant my instincts were so out of whack, I was basically losing it.

  “I’ll just level with you, Bailey. I’m here with an opportunity.”

  “No offense, but if it’s something that might land me in prison again, I can already tell you the answer is no.”

  He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, give a guy some credit. I’m one hundred percent legit now.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m serious, man. I’m with you, I’m never going back.”

  “All right. Good for you. So what are you doing now?”

  “It’s a funny story. When I got out, I did the same as you. Went back to my hometown. Didn’t take me long to figure out that wasn’t going to work. I have a brother in Phoenix, and he told me if I came down, he’d have a job for me. So I took him up on it.”

  “If you’re in Phoenix now, what are you doing up here?”

  “Visiting my grandma.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead fucking serious, man. She’s in a nursing home, so I come see her when I can.”

  “And then you coincidentally happened to hear I was out early?”

  He shrugged. “Not exactly a coincidence. I looked you up. Inmate information is all online. It’s not hard to get.”

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, I have an opportunity for you. My brother owns a gym and they train some of the top MMA competitors in the world.”

  My back stiffened and my grip on my beer bottle tightened.

  “I saw what you could do when we were on the inside,” he continued. “You don’t just have skills, you have instincts. With the right trainer behind you, you could compete against the best. Fuck, you could crush the best.”

  I ground out the words. “You want me to be a fighter?”

  “My friend, you are a fighter. Some people are good because they have training and skill. But guys like you? They’re born with it. Granted, anyone who gets in the ring needs skill. You still have to train. But I’m telling you, there aren’t many people out there who have what you have. Some guys can fight, and some guys are fighters. You’re a fighter.”

  I looked away, still gripping my beer in a tight fist. He was right, I was a fighter, but I hated it. And I hated that he’d seen it so clearly. Although how could he not? I’d literally fought my way through my sentence. I’d spent most of my seven years with a big fucking target on my back—the guy everyone wanted to prove themselves against.

  I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. The urge to fight was a demon inside me, and I had to keep it locked away. Anything else was too dangerous.

  “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I get it. It means relocating and you’ve got family here.” He narrowed his eyes. “And maybe a girl?”

  I glanced away again. “Not exactly.”

  “Coffee shop girl flashed a ring at me. Was she yours once? And maybe someone else put that ring on her finger while you were gone?”

  “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  He put his hands up again. “Fair enough. But seriously, man, think about it. What are you going to do out here? What kind of job are you going to get now? I know what it’s like—I grew up in a small town, although mine was more of a shithole than this place. Still, no one looks at you the same. And this could mean huge money.”

  “I’m almost thirty. Aren’t I already getting too old for this?”

  “Not at all. A lot of fighters don’t peak until their mid-thirties. We’ve got guys still winning into their forties. You train properly, take care of yourself, you’d have a solid ten years, maybe fifteen. Things go well, that’s more than enough time to make you a shit ton of money. I’m talking set-you-up-for-life kind of money. Set your family up for life, if you want.”

  Take care of my family. That was the crack in my armor, and he’d just wormed his way in. Right now, I could barely afford to take care of myself. I didn’t have a plan or any other opportunities. Ever since I’d gotten out, I’d been asking myself what I was going to do with my life. This could be the answer to that question.

  I sat back in my chair. Declan didn’t say anything. Just settled in with his beer, like he could tell I needed to think.

  The money was tempting. I wasn’t going to lie to myself about that. Not because I gave a shit about being wealthy, but because I needed to be productive. I needed purpose. Maybe getting in the ring and beating the shit out of people would be worth it if it meant I could ensure Gram never had to worry about money. If I could take care of my family and know they always had what they needed.

  Maybe it would start to make up for the time I’d missed. For how I’d pushed them away.

  But I couldn’t ignore what else it would mean. Leaving Tilikum. Leaving my family.

  Leaving Grace.

  I took a drink, the hint of bitterness sitting on my tongue. I wanted her so badly, I ached with it. And there was a voice in my head trying to tell me that I didn’t just want her, I needed her. That she was good for me.

  But I couldn’t ignore the fact that regardless of what I wanted, I wasn’t good for her. I barely slept. I had nightmares almost every night. I constantly felt like I was being watched. I was always on high alert, always ready to respond. Ready to fight.

  I’d been convinced someone was following me, and as much as I wanted to tell myself I wasn’t crazy—maybe there had been someone—deep down, I knew. It had been in my head.

  It wasn’t normal.

  That also meant my initial instinct was right. I needed to stay out of the ring. No MMA training. No sparring. And certainly no fucking fighting. Not even if it would make me a shit ton of money. I couldn’t take that risk.

  “I appreciate you coming out here.” I set my bottle down. “It’s a good offer. But I can’t take it.”

  He regarded me for a few seconds, his expression thoughtful. “Tell you what. Give it some time, see how things play out. If life here works for you, that’s great. If not…” He pulled out a business card and slid it across the table. “Call me.”

  I took the card, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on the table. “It was good to catch up with you. Take care, man. Stay out of trouble.”

  “You too.”

  Still holding his business card, I w
atched him stand and walk out. My body ached with fatigue. I was coming down from all that adrenaline and I felt like shit. Almost hungover.

  And all I could think about was Grace.

  My defenses were whittled down to almost nothing. If she hadn’t been at work, I would have gone straight to her house, knowing what would happen if I did. Knowing I’d be powerless to resist her.

  I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I couldn’t have her. But fuck, I couldn’t leave her, either.

  Dear Asher

  Dear Asher,

  I feel like if I wrote this to anyone else, they wouldn’t believe this story was true. But you know Tilikum.

  Yesterday while I was at work, there was a commotion out on the street. I could hear it from my office in the back. It sounded like someone yelling. When it didn’t die down right away, I went outside to see what was going on.

  On the next block over, Harvey Johnston was outside Happy Paws, the pet supply store, yelling at… something. I wasn’t sure what, and you never know with him. He was on the sidewalk, shaking his fist, and shouting a barely coherent stream of expletives.

  A few people stood around gawking at him, but they seemed reluctant to get close. I didn’t blame them—he was really worked up. But you know Harvey, he’s harmless, even when he’s ranting about something.

  So, there he was, yelling at someone or something, and I realized the big Happy Paws sign that hangs over the sidewalk was swinging. None of the other signs in front of the other shops were moving, so it wasn’t the wind. Not only was it swinging, it looked like it was about to fall. And Harvey was standing right under it.

  I ran across the street and grabbed Harvey by the arm. That surprised him enough that he stopped yelling, but he didn’t move. I yanked him out into the street and he kept asking, “Did you see them? Did you see?” over and over.

  About three seconds later, the Happy Paws sign crashed to the sidewalk, right where Harvey had been standing.

  I looked up, and what did I see? Two gray squirrels scampering away across the roof.

  Squirrels, Asher.

  Harvey kept pointing and saying, “There they go! After them!”

  Did they actually loosen the sign so it would fall? Can squirrels DO that?

  I honestly don’t know.

  I do know Missy Lovejoy (if you don’t remember Missy, she owns Happy Paws) has been embroiled in an all-out war with the squirrels this year. She says they steal her pet treats and splash in the dish of water she leaves out for people’s dogs.

  Harvey’s always saying they’re organized. I know he’s not exactly all there, but maybe he’s not as crazy as he seems.

  I told Gram about it later and she said Missy Lovejoy needs to strike a deal with the squirrels. How does one strike a deal with small mammals? I asked her that very question and she just shrugged and said it’s not up to her to solve everyone’s problems.

  What is with this town? Is this normal? I don’t think this is normal.

  Anyway, I just thought a little slice of life here in Tilikum might make you smile.

  I love you,

  Grace

  24

  Grace

  Fortunately, my Bailey bodyguards were called off fairly quickly. I loved those guys, but the thought of them “guarding” me twenty-four/seven was a little much. Cara had stayed over last night, but by morning she was no longer trying to talk me into letting her hire mercenaries. Everything seemed to have settled down.

  I was hoping the end to the perceived crisis would mean a calmer Asher. I hadn’t seen him yesterday—we’d both ended up working late—but he’d texted several times to see how I was doing. Although I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much, it felt like maybe that hug we’d shared had been a breakthrough.

  Who was I kidding? My hopes were up.

  “Huh.” Cara looked at me over the top of a book. “Peachy pants, did you know only thirty percent of the earth’s land is forest?”

  “Nope.” I barely glanced at her.

  “Me neither.” She shut the book and unceremoniously dropped it on a pile next to her chair.

  We were in a chilly back room in the Tilikum Library. The dry air smelled dusty, like an old crypt no one had opened in centuries. I’d dragged Cara here with me so I could do a little digging into the town’s history. See if I could find any trace of Eliza Bailey.

  Partly, I was curious about the mirror, and who Eliza Bailey might have been. But I was also off work today, and needed something to keep my mind occupied for a while. Seven years without Asher had made me an expert at creating distractions for myself.

  I’d already looked online but hadn’t come up with anything about an Eliza Bailey. In fact, there wasn’t much to be found about Tilikum in general prior to the 1920s. Libby Stewart, one of the library volunteers, had solved that little mystery for me. About a hundred years ago, Tilikum had suffered a devastating fire, and huge portions of the town had burned down. Records and artifacts from anything prior to that were scarce and hard to find.

  Still, I was nothing if not stubborn. I’d been hoping the library would have a database, maybe one that wasn’t available online. What they actually had was an ancient microfiche reader and old newspaper articles on sheets of film.

  Cara sat in an armchair she’d dragged in here herself, earning a horrified look from Libby. She’d grabbed a few books, seemingly at random, and thumbed through them while I squinted into the eyepiece, skimming for any references to someone named Eliza Bailey.

  “I can’t believe they don’t have a second one of those,” she said. “This would go twice as fast if I could help.”

  “Why would they have two? I didn’t even know these things existed. I think I’m lucky they have this one.”

  “True.” She picked up another book from her random stack. “Do you really think you’re going to find anything?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m curious enough to try.”

  She flipped a page. “But why would newspapers help?”

  “There might be marriage or birth announcements. Or even an obituary. That would have information about her family.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but what if she had a secret lover and they never married, and no one ever knew?”

  “I know I won’t find that in the newspaper, but if I can find out anything about her, it might give me a clue. Those love letters are so poignant and sad. I want to find out who wrote them and what ultimately happened. Did they find a way to be together?”

  “God, you’re such a romantic. You’re hoping you find out they lived happily ever after.”

  “Of course I am.”

  She closed the book and sat forward in the chair. “Because if they had a happy ending, maybe you will too?”

  I turned toward her. “I know this doesn’t have anything to do with me and Asher. Even if Eliza Bailey’s story has a sad ending, it doesn’t mean we will.”

  “But it would still make you feel better.”

  “Fine. Yes, it would make me feel better. I’d love to find out those love notes led to a happy ending.”

  “Are your eyes tired yet? If you need a break, I can take over for a while.”

  “Thanks, but I know you’re bored. You don’t have to stay.”

  “I’m bored as hell, but we both know I can’t go.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course you can.”

  Her forehead creased. “You mean if I go, you’ll stay here by yourself and keep searching?”

  I opened my mouth to say of course I would, but the thought of being left alone back here made a thread of anxiety uncurl in my stomach. I actually didn’t like that idea. At all.

  “See?” she asked. “Don’t worry, boo. I’ve got you. I’m used to it.”

  “Used to what?”

  “That you can’t go anywhere in public by yourself.”

  “What? Yes I can.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “No, you can’t. Except work. You’ve been that way since I’ve k
nown you.”

  I felt oddly defensive, like she was flinging an unfair accusation at me. “That’s crazy. Of course I can go places by myself.”

  “Yeah? When was the last time you went grocery shopping alone?”

  “I…” I had to stop and think. When was the last time I’d gone grocery shopping alone? I usually went with Cara or picked up my little brother and bought him cookies or candy while we were out. “That’s just because we like going together. And sometimes I want to get Elijah out of my mom’s hair.”

  “Okay, but it’s not just grocery shopping.”

  “I go to Stitch and Sip alone.”

  “No, you don’t. You might drive yourself there, but you’re meeting people you know.”

  “Still.”

  “Do you ever go to the Knotty Knitter when it’s not Stitch and Sip night? By yourself, just to buy yarn or whatever?”

  “No, but I don’t need to. I’m already there almost every Monday.”

  She tilted her head, regarding me for a long moment with a bewildered expression. “You really don’t know this about yourself, do you? I always assumed you were aware of it.”

  “There’s nothing to be aware of, because you’re wrong.”

  “Grace, I’ve known you for years, and while I’m sure there are a few exceptions, I’m positive you almost never go places alone. Why do you think I always need to run errands or get groceries when you do? I’ve never run my own errands or shopped for my own groceries in my life. But I know you’re always going to need someone to go with you, so I do. Why else would I set foot in a hardware store? I cannot possibly think of a more boring place to lose an hour of my life.”

  I stared blankly at the microfiche screen. Oh my god. Was she right? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone into a store or restaurant by myself. Not unless I was meeting someone. I went to work, but otherwise, I was always with someone else—usually Cara. We went everywhere together, and I’d never really thought about it. We were close. We both needed someone. But was that really the reason?

  “Oh my god, Cara, I think you’re right. I don’t know how to feel about this right now. How could I be unaware of something so unhealthy?”