Fighting for What's His (Warrior Fight Club 2)

And, sometimes…as in, his inability to fully feel there meant that he occasionally took hits or kicks to his ribs on the right side without realizing that he’d been injured. Usually when that happened, he’d find big black bruises covering his side the next morning. Once, though, a pinch he felt when he took deep breaths sent him to his doc’s, where he learned he had a broken rib.

He hadn’t admitted that to Coach or the others back then, and he didn’t tell her any of that now.

Her gaze narrowed. “‘Sometimes’ doesn’t sound good.”

Billy shrugged, even though he respected her skepticism. Because she wasn’t wrong.

“The benefits outweigh the occasional risks.” She didn’t respond to that, but he could almost hear her brain chewing on the topic, so he didn’t make her ask. “Which, for me, include blowing off the steam that always seems to be building up in my head. I…I just get to the point where I feel like, if I don’t release it, it’ll just…I don’t know, consume me.”

It was a nearly stunning admission, and he wasn’t sure why the fuck he’d made it.

Luckily, they’d arrived. Better yet, there was a possibly god-sent parking place available on the street in front of the gym.

Shayna wasn’t deterred by the fact that they’d made it to their destination. “What is ‘it’?” she asked in a quiet voice as he parallel parked.

Guilt. It’s guilt.

He didn’t give that answer out loud, of course, even though he heard her loud and clear. Instead of answering, he parked, killed the engine, and pulled the key from the ignition. Billy’s stomach tied in knots as he turned to her with the lie of ‘I don’t know’ on his tongue.

But then he saw her expression. And for just a second, he felt like he was looking into a mirror.

Shattered. Ashamed. Guilt-ridden. That’s how he would’ve described what he saw on her face.

Billy’s heart tripped into a shocked sprint.

Shayna looked away. And he would’ve done almost anything to make her look at him again, because he’d never seen another person so reflect how he felt. Why had she looked that way? He didn’t know, but the only thing he could think to do to find out was to answer her honestly.

“It’s guilt,” he said, nearly holding his breath.

Finally, those blue eyes swung back to his. The shattered shame and grief was gone from her expression, but it was there in those eyes. As if the mask she’d donned wasn’t quite big enough to cover everything she felt. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Me, too.”

Billy frowned, her words ricocheting through him. “What do you have—”

Knock, knock.

“Jesus,” he bit out, nearly jumping out of his skin. He looked to his left to see Sean and Mo standing on the sidewalk grinning like idiots. “My friends, such as they are.”

Shayna managed a chuckle, and there was a lot of relief in the sound of it. “Well, let’s do this.” She reached for the door handle, but Billy grasped her arm. When she peered back at him, he nailed her with a stare. “Can we pick this up later?”

She swallowed hard. “Maybe?”

He arched a brow, recognizing his own avoidance in her answer.

Her gaze nearly pleaded. “Your friends—”

“Can wait. Shay—”

“Okay. Later.”

Billy wasn’t sure why he’d pushed her. It wasn’t like he discussed this shit, like, ever.

But the idea that she might feel something similar made him need to know. Out of morbid curiosity. Out of a need to not just know but feel that he wasn’t alone. Out of gut-deep concern for her. Because Billy had survived something he shouldn’t have, while better men had died. He deserved the guilt he carried. He’d earned it.

“Okay,” he said with a nod.

She pasted on a smile and pushed out of the car.

What could Shayna possibly have experienced to make her feel anything similar?