Knockout (Tapped Out 4)

It was easier to start with Emerson’s concerns, of course. Possible concerns, since it wasn’t as if he’d discussed his feelings with me. It had been years since I’d been Em’s confidant. God, I missed it. And worse, I didn’t know why it had changed. If it was just because of him, or if something in me had caused him to close off.

“I think it’s harder with MMA guys.” I kept my hold tight on JC’s hand. “Some of them are the macho types that might have a problem with a bisexual guy. Or at least I’m guessing Emerson might perceive them that way.” I huffed out a sigh. “I can’t say if they would or not, or if he even truly thinks that or not. I’m just guessing too. But I know he’s always been super-conscious of public opinion because of what happened when he was a kid.”

“What happened?”

“He was beat up a lot. Kids picking on him for his size. And then his dad died, and my dad ended up bringing him home one day. They bonded right away, probably because Dad went through something similar.”

We went through something similar, but I didn’t say that. Yet.

“Wait a second, kids beat up on Emerson? The dude’s huge.”

“He wasn’t always huge. He was a scrawny kid. Until my dad dragged him to the gym, he wasn’t

into sports at all.”

JC frowned. “What happened to his dad?”

I swallowed hard, hoping I wasn’t breaking a confidence. But JC had missed vital pieces of my puzzle and Emerson’s, which interlocked in more ways than we probably even realized. “He was shot to death. Drug deal gone bad.” When JC sucked in a breath, I forged ahead. Sheer cowardice had me hoping my confession would pile up with Em’s and become indistinguishable. “And my mom was killed during a mugging two years before Em’s dad. They tried to take her purse and she wouldn’t let go.”

Why wouldn’t she let go? I’d wondered that so many damn times over the years. If only she’d let them take her money. If only she hadn’t fought them. If, if, if.

In the end, I knew that my strong, stubborn mama had fought those two guys like she’d fought to have me, her only child. The doctors had told her she’d never give birth, yet she’d continued trying and one day, she’d discovered I was on the way.

Because she’d never ever given up on what she wanted.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry—” JC undid his belt and started sliding toward me, but I held up a hand to ward him off. I needed to say the rest.

“They pushed her down and she hit her head on the sidewalk. She bled out right there.” My hand curled into JC’s shirt, and the steady beat of his heart centered me in spite of the chaotic emotions whirling through me. “We were halfway through putting together our first dollhouse when she died. She’d just picked out this little blue and white pitcher, to go on the little butcher block table in the kitchen.” I fought back the tears that pooled in my eyes. In my heart. “‘Someday, baby girl, we’re going to have this fancy pitcher. We’re going to have this pretty table, and all this furniture to fill up our big house. Until then, we’re going to dream.’”

“Come here,” JC said huskily, and I couldn’t stay out of the safety of his arms any longer. Outside of them, I was cold and lonely, and I only had to inch forward to take the comfort he offered so willingly.

I pressed my face into his neck, drawing in the scent of his pricey cologne, the slight hint of sweat from our hours at the club and the smell of the generic soap from the warehouse shower. Home. Somehow he was my home, just as Emerson was. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky to find not one amazing man who fit so well with me, but two.

God, I didn’t want to lose one of them before he’d ever truly been mine.

“He’s tried to take care of me all these years,” I whispered. “Him and my dad. I was the focus of all their attention, the one they needed to keep safe. But I wasn’t keeping him safe. I wasn’t making sure he was okay. I just let him and my dad coddle me, without thinking about what they needed. I shouldn’t have put them in that position.”

“You didn’t. It sounds like they wanted to take care of you. That it gave them a purpose.” He nudged my hair away from my tear-smeared eyes and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “It’s giving me a purpose now too.”

I sniffled and shook my head. “I can take care of myself.”

“But you realize that doing it makes them happy too? Makes me happy?” He pulled me closer. “It’s not about you not being able to do it. It’s about loving someone.”

The lump in my throat was growing bigger by the second. “It’s my turn to do the taking care. I want to give them something back. Do you know my father hasn’t been on a date since my mother died? Not one. He deserves that. And Emerson… I know he’s avoiding seeing my dad because he feels guilty over me. Which is crazy. He’s given me so much these last few weeks. You both have. If he’s not ready for us to publicly declare—” I broke off and frowned. “What if I’m wrong? What if he wasn’t upset about that?”

“About us admitting we’re together?” His thumbs slid over my cheeks, blotting up the tears I was barely aware of crying. Already they were drying.

Now I was focused on Emerson.

“Yeah. What if he was hurt we hadn’t included him?”

JC’s brows lifted. “But he never said a damn thing about us being a real couple. Err, I mean threesome.”

“Neither did you,” I reminded him as I eased back to tug my phone out of my purse. “Maybe he’s been struggling with wanting to. I don’t know, because he never just says.” I gripped the phone tightly without swiping it awake. “He’s so close to my dad, and God, he has to be afraid of what he’ll think.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I shut my eyes. “I’m terrified. I don’t want to hurt him, or make him worry. But I also don’t want to walk away from the best thing I’ve ever found.” JC stroked my hair and I opened my eyes, staring at him in the darkened car. “I’ve always wondered if I had my mom’s strength. But I’m tired of being weak. Of hoping one day he’ll just open up to me, and I’ll finally understand what’s going on behind that inscrutable mask he wears.”