Of course she is. She said she loves me, that she’s mine. And I told her I’ll keep fucking other women for money.
Why would she stay? I’m losing her, and I’ve hardly ever had her.
Not only that, but if things go tits-up, then I may not even be around to have anything with her in the first place.
Shit. I need to survive that fight, no matter what.
I look at her when she’s not paying attention as we scour the apartment for my cell phone. Her body’s hot, but my gaze keeps returning to her small face, the wide, dark eyes, just as my thoughts keep returning to the way she held me after I lost it, without fear. Keeping me together. And promising to take care of my own.
How can I not love her?
How can I let her go?
But what about Kyle? What about my promise to Markus after he died? What about that? Is my happiness more important than the kid’s life?
Why can’t I grab Pax and leave far, far away and to hell with everything and everyone else?
Can’t believe I’m even asking myself this. Once selfish, always selfish, I guess. Always thinking of myself, as if my happiness matters. As if I matter.
Fuck.
“Here it is!” she calls, pulling the cell phone from under the sofa cushions. “It’s dead.”
“Needs to be recharged.” I curse as I straighten, my ribs fucking killing me, and stagger over to take it from her. “Motherfucker.”
“Here, let me charge it for you.” She takes the cell from my lax hands and plugs it into the charger that’s already in the socket. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I grab the phone to check. Eight missed calls from the agency. Shit. Johnson will have my ass for this. “I’ve kinda lost track of time. The days that passed.”
I struggle to gather my thoughts. When did they say the fight was? Hell. Was it in three days?
Maybe my time with her is shorter than I thought.
“What’s wrong?”
“Come with me.” I frown. “It’s Sunday, right? Let me take you someplace.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see. You hungry?”
She gives me a funny look. “Maybe.”
“Then grab your coat and let’s go.”
***
I can’t afford to spend much money, not when I was younger and not now, when most of my money goes to Kyle’s fund. But I have to eat, even more so since I can’t cook to save my fucking life, so I got a place or two I hang out at when the hunger pangs hit.
The cold seeps through my jacket and into my flesh. Makes my ribs ache so bad it’s like a blade twisting in my side, but they are just bruised. I’d know if they were broken. I remember that blinding sort of pain. Like acid eating into your bones.
Cold washes down my back at the thought of entering the ring again. Of facing the Crusher.
So I distract myself by pulling Pax closer and slipping an arm around her waist, over her woolen coat.
“Are you ready?”
“For what? You’re being so mysterious.”