Grace for Drowning

He continued to stare at me, the smile gradually dropping from his face. It was a searching look, his eyes scanning mine as though he was trying to see below the surface, to uncover whatever secrets still lay hidden.

"I was thinking about you," he said.

"What?"

"Before, you asked what was going on up here. I was thinking about you. I was thinking about how you're the most amazing person I've ever met. You don't judge me, you don't recoil, or run, or patronize. I feel normal around you, and that's something I never thought I'd have again. A few months ago, this TPW shit would have left me on the floor — hell, it might even have left me reaching for a bottle — but you were right about what you said the other day. Fighting isn't the only thing I've got any more. Now I've got you too, and that makes me the luckiest guy on the planet." He paused with his lips drawn tight. I could feel the weight of whatever he was going to say next hanging in the air. My skin tingled with it. "I'm falling in love with you, Grace. It may be too early to say that, and it fucking scares the hell out of me, but it's true."

I closed my eyes, pushing back the heat that was rising behind them. I hadn't thought of it in those terms, but the moment the words left his mouth, I knew I felt the same way. Logan made me happier than I could ever remember being. He got me in a way that nobody else did, in a way that made me forget all my pain and guilt and just let me focus on what was good in my life. When I thought of the future, I couldn't picture one without him.

"You're not the only who's afraid. I've never felt anything like this before. I feel awful for saying that, but it's true. I love you too." Four words had never tasted so bittersweet.

Our lips met, and it felt like magic. Pure fairytale bliss. I didn't understand how we'd navigated the pitfalls of our past without tumbling into the abyss, but somehow we'd made it. It no longer felt like a betrayal. It felt like a new beginning, and for that I couldn't have been more thankful.

Chapter Nineteen

Logan

Three days before I was due to fight again, the confirmation came through. Task had poached my new opponent — a young guy named Trevor who I'd never faced before. Charlie had taken his time finding a replacement for Johnny, hoping to give Task as little warning as possible, but apparently it did no good. The man was watching us like a hawk.

When I heard the news, any hopes that maybe this was just a short term thing were shattered. Task was going to keep fucking with me. My fighting career was effectively on hold unless I did something.

I spent a few days flitting between rage and depression. Occasionally, I even found myself eyeing the bottles shelved behind the bar at Charlie's. On the outside, it tends to look like I've got my shit together, but the truth is it's a constant struggle. Alcoholism isn't cured, it's just held at bay. It had been over a year since my last drink, but there were plenty of moments in there where the desire for a few fingers of scotch was almost overpowering.

I think this might have been the thing to knock me off the wagon, if not for Grace. She was right; fighting wasn't all I had anymore. I still wanted it, still craved that adrenaline, but I wasn't empty without it, either. Grace was filling the void inside me, giving me something to live for besides the next punch.

I still couldn't believe I'd said those words to her. I'd never expected to say them to anyone again. But it was true, I loved her, and for whatever bizarre reason, she loved me too. Whenever I felt like reaching for a bottle, I thought back to that picnic out in the desert, and I couldn't help but smile. She'd given me one of the best nights of my life, and that was just the beginning. I could see a whole future ahead of us, a future of nights just like that one. I couldn't ruin that by breaking down again. I owed it to her. Besides, as long as I had Grace, things were far from hopeless.

Preparing all that food seemed to trigger something inside her. She was spending more and more of her free time in the kitchen. Almost every day, when she arrived at the gym, she had some new delicacy for me. Tony's frown grew a little bigger each day, but I wasn't going to tell her to stop. I loved seeing her so happy and full of life. It was becoming increasingly clear that she didn't belong behind a bar. I hoped she'd follow through on trying to get back into the restaurant game.

That way, at least one of us would be doing what they loved.

Chapter Twenty

Grace

Two days after our desert meal, Logan greeted me at the gym looking extra pleased with himself.

"What's that look for?" I asked, dumping my bag in the corner.

"What look?" he asked innocently.

"That stupid little smile on your face, the one that makes you look like a twelve year old that has just stolen all the cookies."

It was kind of an adorable look, to tell you the truth.

"Now why would I need to steal the cookies when I've got you to bake them for me?"

"Are you sure you still do?"

He pouted, which somehow managed to make him look even cuter. "That's a low blow. Okay, how about a compromise. You promise to keep up the supply of sugar and, after your workout, I'll tell you what your surprise is."

"You, sir, have a deal."

I began my circuit. After several months of constant exercise, I was finally seeing some reward for my effort. No longer did my body complain after ten minutes of strain. My muscles now slipped seamlessly into rhythm, driving me forward, reveling in the exertion. My lungs still burned, but it was a pleasant ache rather than the agony of those first few weeks. I was even starting to develop a little definition in my arms and back, something I never thought would happen.

That said, my mad guns were still nothing compared to Logan's. The way he threw his entire body into every activity was a sight to behold. If he was running, it was at a dead sprint. If he was boxing, he left only the tiniest pause between combos. Everything he did was designed to push his body to its absolute limit, and the more I understood how hard he was working, the sexier I found it. This was a man with a purity of purpose unlike any other. Of course it helped that that purpose left him a taut, ripped, broad-shouldered god.

I finished my final exercise and wandered over casually, trying not to seem too eager to claim my prize. Logan was practicing strikes with Tony; landing short, sharp combos of fists and elbows against pads that were strapped to the older man's hands. Tony shot me a warning look as I approached. He'd actually warmed a little to me lately — which meant I warranted a nod hello instead of just a grunt — but he was still incredibly protective of Logan's training time. He hated anyone interrupting a set.