by Quinn, Cari
I dragged her against my chest and buried my face in her hair. “Goddamn you, I love you. So much it makes me insane. More insane. Not working with a lot there to begin with.”
She gave a watery laugh and pressed her cold nose into the crook of my shoulder. “And you said you weren’t a poet.”
“I don’t like to brag.”
She laughed again and eased back to graze the area beneath my injured eye with the tips of her fingers. “I have to go to work later. I called in and asked Carmine to put me on the schedule. Since I won’t be making my big payday from the fight, I’ll need to pick up more hours to cover my rent. It’s going up.”
I thought it over for about five seconds. “Stay here.”
A shiver went through her that I was sure had nothing to do with the cold. “With my sister?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “You’re too much.”
“Better than not enough.”
Her gaze dropped below my waist for a fraction of a second before returning to my face. Much to my shock, a smile curved her mouth. “No worries there.”
“Thanks for reminding me I’m wearing just a towel. Maybe I’ll use it to tie you up and turn you into my love slave.”
“No turning required,” she murmured, lifting her face to mine. But before our lips connected, she slid her mouth to my cheek. “You’re just going to let it go?”
I tensed. “What?” I asked, knowing full well what she meant.
Costas. Always freaking Costas.
“You believe I thought the worst of you, but that’s okay. We’ll just fuck it out, right?”
“Well, now that you put it that way…”
“I decked him, Tray. Right in his goddamn eye. Just like you taught me. I didn’t fracture his eye socket, but I gave him a nice shiner.” She wiggled her fingers, revealing the split knuckles I’d missed. “Jesus, that hurt.”
I grabbed her hand and kissed the cuts, lifting my eyes to hers. “My hero.”
“I owed him one.” She shrugged. “Besides, he’s still talking about going out with Carly. Maybe getting his clock cleaned by her sister will kill that idea.”
Somehow I didn’t think so, but I didn’t want to piss on her cloud. Not yet, anyway. My own cloud was pretty full at the moment, as was the rapidly tightening area in my chest. “You never doubted me.”
“No. Not for a second.” She stepped forward, eliminating the space between us. Her dark eyes clear and steady on mine. “I believe in you. One hundred percent.”
“Ditto.” I cleared my throat and rubbed my thumb over her lower lip. “I’m probably going to piss you off at least once an hour.”
“Undoubtedly. And vice versa.”
“Absolutely.”
Smiling faintly, she leaned up and cupped my jaw. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Me too.” Giving in to the yawning chasm of need inside me, the one only she could fill, I crushed her against me and covered her mouth with mine. “Welcome home, baby.”
Epilogue
All my life, I’d fought to believe that love healed. I’d heard it. I’d seen it. But I’d never felt it, all the way down to my bones. I’d never been the recipient of a love so strong that even I couldn’t break it.
If someone had told me it existed even for someone like me, I would’ve laughed. I wasn’t looking for love. I wanted to fight. The irony that my need to fight had led me to love wasn’t lost on me. I’d only stopped running when I found something worth sticking around for.
Not just Tray, but me.
Me.
I wasn’t all that crappy of a girlfriend. Or sister. Or person in general. I didn’t know how to cook, I sucked at being flirtatious, and I tended to react to annoyances by raising my fists.
But you know what? Some people liked me that way.
Some people loved me, baggage and all. Not in spite of who I was, but because of it.
“Happy birthday, Fox,” Carly called, holding out her covered cake pan. “Surprise!”
Tray looked up from the textbook open on his desk to where Carly and I stood in the doorway to his closet-sized office at The Cage. Since Tray and I were now both part-time trainers, we actually shared one, which wasn’t saying much since our office was full of his stuff. I had a folding chair and a corner of the desk currently covered in books and notebooks and about sixteen pens.
He’d started preparing for his NYU entrance exam, hence the book paraphernalia. The glasses he wore were a recent addition after his surgery. He’d come through it like a champ, and his vision was almost back to normal, but he claimed he’d hung up his gloves for glasses.
I understood, since I’d hung up mine too. Now that I had a lot of reasons to stay healthy, I wasn’t about to risk it if the payoff wasn’t spectacular. Someone wise had once told me the fight wasn’t what mattered, but what you were fighting for. I could always make money in other ways.
My biggest regret was that I’d ever worn a titty top for that fuckjob Costas. He still held the date with Carly over my head, saying he’d been promised it as a condition of setting up a fight with me. As long as my sister agreed, he insisted I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him from what he was rightfully owed. That remained to be seen.
You could take the girl out of the ring, but you couldn’t take the fighter out of the girl…
“You made me a cake?” Tray rose, obviously delighted by our unexpected lunchtime visit. He also clearly did not recognize the pan Carly held. “Fuckin’ A. You’re the best, squirt.”
“Sure did.” Carly beamed. “German chocolate with chocolate icing and custard filling.”
“Oh, man. Thank you. I’m starving.” He cast a suspicious look at the sound I made, crossed between a cough and a giggle, but I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
When Carly popped the lid off the cake and he saw which one it was—and the little weasely face that covered the tip—I lost it.
Grabbing my belly, I turned away and gasped for air. “Oh, God.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “I should’ve brought my camera.”
“You put a face on my penis?” The outrage in his voice made me laugh even harder.
“It’s not your penis, per se. I wouldn’t know what that looks like. Ame refuses to take pictures.”
“Sicko.”
Carly ignored me. “It’s just a generic penis, but I wanted to make it specific for you. So, ta da, it has a fox face.”
“Take a breath,” Tray advised me, not sounding particularly amused. “You’re going to rupture a lung.”
“And look, there are twenty-eight candles. Just like your age. It was hard fitting them all in, but I did it.”
“Twenty-four. I’m only twenty-four, squirt.” Then he squinted and shook his head, realizing she’d been kidding. “What’s next? I’ve already gotten an obscene cake and age jokes. Lemme guess. Birthday spankings?”
“Only if you’re lucky.” After a long wheezy exhale, I held up a finger. “Hang on. I need to get your presents.” I glanced at Carly. “Don’t let him eat his penis until I get back.”
“You are so hilarious. Both of you. I’d laugh, but Mia sucked all the air out of the room.”
Still grinning, I jogged out to his car. I’d borrowed it for my running around this morning—I actually had a license now—and the passenger seat was stacked with boxes. I’d bought just as many presents for me as I had for him, but I figured we’d only have one first birthday together. And I’d had fun buying up the store.
I wouldn’t have as much fun adjusting my budget, especially since we’d just moved into our new place, but those were the lumps. I could always take on more shifts at Vinnie’s or new clients at The Cage. I only had a couple since I was on probation, but my track record on the circuit had helped me land the job. I definitely appreciated the extra cash now that I wasn’t fighting anymore and had a new spiffy apartment to decorate.
Well, Carly was decorating. I was okay with my saggy couch and the chair with
the broken springs, but we needed to be able to entertain guests. So she said.
She seemed happy here in the city. I’d asked her flat out if she wasn’t, if she’d rather return home to Aunt Patty, or hell, get away from me, period. Just because I’d chosen to stay in New York didn’t mean she had to do the same. But she’d told me she wanted to live with me, that she’d been waiting for years for our chance to be a couple of freewheeling young women making our own way.
I’d only cried for twenty minutes or so.
Tray had repeatedly asked us to move in with him. I’d been tempted, because we hadn’t had much time to look for safe, affordable housing.
Okay, so that wasn’t the only reason. But I wanted to set the right example for Carly, and moving us in with a guy I’d known for only three months didn’t seem like it. I could only imagine Aunt Patty’s reaction.
But even so, we’d only signed a year lease, and I fully expected to be living with Tray by this time next year. Instead of that making me feel panicky and unsure, it gave me a warm glow.
I was loved. I loved, even if I hadn’t quite said the words yet. And the world hadn’t ended.
Everything wasn’t roses. I’d decided to try therapy once a week, and so far, I’d gone through three therapists. The current one had lasted two sessions, and I was hopeful. As long as she didn’t start telling me to join an abuse recovery group like the others had, we might be okay.
It had taken me this long to tell anyone about my rape, never mind a room of people. Group therapy helped plenty of others. Perhaps it would help me too someday.
But not now.
Tray and I fought—a lot—but we enjoyed the making up part just as much. He still tried to tell me what to do more than I liked, and I still retreated into silence in defense. His parents weren’t particularly thrilled he was dating me, and I couldn’t say I adored them either. But we’d lived through a couple of family dinners, and we’d even managed to laugh afterward.
Usually while consuming an alcoholic beverage. Or three.
We weren’t giving up. If fighting had taught us anything, it was the importance of not being a quitter. It had also taught us how to judge an opponent’s weakness.
I hefted the boxes and headed back inside. I had one of Tray’s in my arms.
Tray and Carly were cutting the cake and sliding pieces onto the paper plates we’d brought. They were both laughing. God, I loved that sound.
Tray came over to help as I entered the room, cocking a brow at my pile of unwrapped presents. “Shopping? I feel privileged.”
“It gets even better.” Carly sucked pudding off her thumb and waggled her brows. “Just wait until you saw what she bought. You will be a very happy man.”
“Car, eat your penis and be quiet.”
Tray took the top box from me and shook it like a five-year-old. “When do I get to open it?”
“After my sister leaves. Which she is doing soon.”
“Aww, you are no fun. The woman chains me to a hot stove all day then I’m forced out just when things are getting interesting.” She marched over to hug Tray, squealing when he lifted her off her feet. “There’s another cake for tonight. A real one. Not strictly dickly.”
“Two cakes? This having a hot girlfriend with a cook for a sister is so working out in my favor.” He swung her around and finally set her down, smoothing back her flyaway curls. “Thank you. You’re awesome. Good luck and kick ass.” He flicked his wrist, making her giggle. “Now please get lost.”
She laughed and grabbed a piece of cake on her way out. “Yeah, yeah. I’m outta here.”
“You’re sure you’re okay to take the train there?” I asked, well aware I sounded like a worried mother. Or maybe grandma.
Carly was visiting a culinary school and insisted she wanted to do the first visit on her own.
“I’m fine, Mama Bear. Have fun.” She made an obscene hand gesture and shut the door in Tray’s face when he pretended to chase after her.
“She is so subtle.” After setting down the boxes, I fingered my braid and headed toward the cake. Now that the moment of truth had arrived, I was nervous. As usual.
When would I ever learn that I wasn’t some sexy chick? I was still a fighter girl down to the marrow, and I didn’t know how to be seductive. I screwed it up every time.
“Can I open them now? Huh?”
“Can’t we eat cake first?”
He frowned. “You honestly expect a penis cake exploding with vanilla pudding and bearing whiskers to distract me from what’s in these boxes? Nope. Sorry. Gimme.”
“But—”
“You would deny a man on his birthday? Have you no soul?”
I laughed helplessly. Screwing up commencing in one…two…three… “So I’ve been told.” Sighing, I waved him on. “Go ahead, boy-man-child.”
He dug into the first box, yanking off the lid and tearing through the tissue paper. Clearly puzzled, he withdrew the satin black and red shorts. “What in the frilly fuck? Boxers?”
“Special boxers.” I set down the forkful of cake I’d just picked up so it didn’t end up in my windpipe when I started laughing again. “Turn them around.”
Eyeing me, he did as I asked—and choked. “Fox? You actually got me boxers that say that on the ass? What is this, a matching pair to go with your Juicy panties?”
“Carly suggested we call them foxers instead.” I kept a straight face for all of ten seconds. “Come on, I couldn’t resist. They were there, and I have my new charge card.”
“We’ve created a monster.”
Barely hiding a smile, I motioned him on. “There’s more. Open the next one.”
He carted the next box to the desk and popped the lid. “If this is a G-string, I’m breaking up with you.”
A couple of months ago, I might’ve taken that threat at face value. Now I tossed back a smug reply. “No, you aren’t.”
His grin flashed as he sifted through the tissue. “Fine. Busted. No, I’m not. But I’m only wearing it on holidays.” His hand stilled. “Oh, shit.”
“Take it out.”
He drew out the ankle-length black leather duster, and my stomach quaked as I waited for the verdict. It wasn’t like his leather jacket. Not at all. But it was badass. At least I thought so. Carly had too.
“So? Do you hate it? I knew you’d hate it. I suck at this. It’s just that you’re so tall, and I thought it would look…yummy,” I trailed off as he pivoted toward me. “I kept the receipt,” I finished weakly.
He grabbed my upper arms and pulled me in for a sizzling kiss that almost steamed my lips right off my face. “I love you. Do you know that?”
“Uh.” Brain function was not optimal. Or even minimal. “Uhh…”
“It’s incredible. I love it. God, I can’t wait to see what’s in the last box.” He whirled back to grab the third one.
I was still trying to remember how to breathe. He told me he loved me almost every day, with the ease of someone who’d been saying it for a lifetime despite the fact that I knew he hadn’t. And he definitely gave me smoking kisses. But the two together? I was still so dazed that I almost missed his stunned expression as he tugged out the pale yellow see-through teddy.
“Wow. Um. Wow.” He blew out a breath. “It’s great, but I don’t think it’s my size.”
“That one’s technically not a gift for you.”
“I beg to differ.”
I slipped my arms around his waist, snuggling my hands under his T-shirt. “This was what I tried to buy that first night when I got those stupid panties. I sent pictures to Carly, and she thought this one would work.”
“I vote affirmative.”
“I was going to get it then, but I blacked out. I grabbed the first thing I could.” He tensed under my fingers, and I stroked his stomach, trying to soothe. “Darren liked me in yellow.”
“Let’s take it back and get red,” he said after a long pause.
We were both working on being able to talk about Da
rren in casual conversation. He’d had too much power over me for far too long.
“Or, hey, animal print. I’ve developed a fascination for that.”
“No. I like the yellow. You like the yellow.” I rubbed my nose over the back of his T-shirt and inhaled his spicy cologne and soap. That smell had centered me since the day we’d met. “This time, I went in and browsed without having a panic attack. You know why?”
“Because you’re so fucking strong you amaze me every minute of the day?” The emotion in his voice made my eyes go damp.
“No. Because I kept looking at your boxers and grinning. I found them as soon as I walked in, and they helped me think about you, not Darren. By the time I left, he wasn’t even in my head.”
“Move back. I’ll put them on right now. Actually, I’ll wear them every day. You’ll have to get me a whole wardrobe of them.” He rubbed the back of my hand. “I hope there are more colors. Maybe a nice blue?”
Laughter really was the best medicine. That was what he’d given me. Laughter, and joy, and love. I needed to give those right back. Ached to.
“Nope, sorry, just black. But if you like them that much, I can—” I’d been idly caressing his abs, but the raised area under my fingers snagged my attention. “What is this?”
“A little tattoo I got today. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Little tattoo, hmm?” I twisted up his shirt as he turned toward me. There in black ink on his ripped as hell stomach, a single word.
Believe.
“It’s a good word,” he said nonchalantly. “A strong one. It says a lot, don’t you think? It’s hopeful and positive and—”
I laid my finger over his mouth, silencing him. He’d believed for me for a while and it had gotten us to this place. A fucking awesome place, if I said so myself. And now I believed every bit as fervently as he did.
“I love you so much.” A tremor went through him. Through me. I leaned up to kiss his jaw. His cheeks. His lips. I said it again over the lump in my throat. “I love you, Tray.”
He framed my face in his fingers and kissed me in the spaces between. “About fucking time,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know how much I’ve been dying to hear those words?”
