One to Love (One to Hold 4)

He blinked and waved. “I gotta get to work. Take it easy.”

With that, he was gone, and the entire room felt empty without him. My arms dropped, and I stared at the space where he’d been. He thought my hair was pretty. I grinned like an idiot and pulled my troublesome ponytail over my shoulder.

“What is your story, Slayde Bennett?” I whispered. “Could you be just as scarred as I am?”

Chapter 11: “We live with the scars we choose.”

Slayde

She hit the bags like she was fighting something invisible, like she was beating the shit out of it. She was so beautiful, and I understood that feeling so well.

Her small body moved with controlled grace even if her strikes were out of line and her ribs unprotected. She was passionate, and I loved the little noises she made every time her fists made contact with the heavy bag. I couldn’t help wondering if she made those sounds when she fucked.

Made love. This was a making love kind of woman. And that’s where I was fucked. I had absolutely nothing to offer a making love kind of woman.

Still, I watched her, thinking about the loveliest music I’d ever heard. Her pale, slim neck, her petite fists driving with such force. She stepped back with a cute, frustrated growl, jerking a glove off with her teeth, and that’s when she saw me.

I played it off, making up some story like the reason I was there was work. Nothing could have kept me from going to her this morning. I wanted to train her. Then I had to touch her, and it was almost more than I could take.

“Keep your elbows tighter, and your chin tucked into your shoulder.” I’d tried to show her the basics without getting lost in her eyes, but it was a fight I wouldn’t win.

Once she seemed to understand, I took my one opening to get out of there. I needed to get the ladies’ locker room cleaned up anyway. If I wasted any more time, Tammy would hassle me. It was always friendly, but it was still hassling.

Leaving her felt like taking a blunt knife and carving out my insides, but I ignored that shit. What right did I have to feel this way? I had toilets to clean.

* * *

A white envelope taunted me from my mail slot. Payday. Lunch would be more than PB on white bread today, and my mouth watered at the thought. I paid Rook back what I owed him, which turned out to be less than seventy-five bucks. Damn, I was a cheap date. Then I headed down to the waterfront where food trucks were waiting. I ordered up a falafel with hot sauce and went to sit on one of the benches. Pulling out my burner phone, I checked in with Doc. It had been more than a week, and I was sure he was curious.

“Hey, kid!” He laughed, and the sound of his voice eased the mixed-up feelings in my chest. “How was your first week back?”

Swallowing the bite of food, I answered. “Better than expected. I’m sure you’re feeling smug right now hearing me say that.”

“Not at all.” I could almost see his lip-less grin behind the salt and pepper scruff. “I’ll be honest, I said a few prayers for you last week.”

“What? No mantras? You back to hitting your knees?”

“Sure as shittin’ I am,” he laughed. “And you’d be smart to do the same every now and then.”

Putting my food aside, I leaned forward, rubbing the back of my neck as I thought. “I’ve considered it.”

“What happened?” His tone was serious, just like it always was with me, and damn, I appreciated having a good friend more than I could say in that moment.

“I lucked into a pretty good job. No background checks or references.” I took a moment to think about how I wanted to frame Rook. “My boss is a former baller. He knew guys who’d fucked up their lives, he said, and he gave me a chance.”

“There are still good people in the world, Slayer.”

For a moment, I hesitated. “I’m not going by that name anymore. I’m Slayde now.”

“Okay.” Doc waited for me to take control of my story.

“I got a shithole of an apartment, but it’s on the beach.” Looking up, I appreciated the clear view I had of the horizon. “At night I can walk down by the water’s edge. I don’t know. It’s therapeutic.”

“That’s a proven fact.”

“Something happened.” I needed to share this with him. I needed him to know. “Three nights ago, I was walking and I heard a girl... a guy was hurting her.”

The line was silent, and I knew he was waiting for me to say the worst.