Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) (37 page)

If I think back hard enough, I can remember a time when my mom loved my dad. He always treated her like a second-class citizen, but she took good care of him. Met him each morning with coffee and breakfast, and welcomed him home to a warm meal every night. She took care of him when he was sick and made sure he never needed for anything. Just like I try to do for Layla.

But love? That’s something that would have to be returned to be genuine. I scrub my face. I wouldn’t know love if it cold-cocked me. What I do know is emotional manipulation and control. After sixteen years of practice, Layla’s an expert at putting on the show of affection, but she’s just as lost as I am. Between my dad and her ex, we’re both brainwashed and bruised.

And if we did feel it,
really
feel it, could we trust it?

“…Blake told me.”

I focus on the girls at the sound of Axelle saying my name. “Huh?”

Layla cocks her sexy hip, her hand planted firmly on it. “You told her.”

“Huh?”
Dammit, I sound like an idiot.

My woman smiles and shakes her head slowly. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Axelle giggles into her coffee mug. “It’s cool, Blake. You’re not in trouble. Mom and I decided no more secrets. I’m fine if you spend the night. It’s nice having a guy around, you know, to kill bugs and take out the trash.”

Fuck, if that’s the only reason they’d want me around, I’d kill every bug in this place and run trash to the dumpster walking on my hands. Is that love?

“I’ve got to get ready for school.” Axelle smiles and disappears behind her bedroom door.

Layla stares down the empty space Axelle left behind. Seconds tick, and she doesn’t move.

“Mouse?” I cross to her and tip her chin to get her eyes. “You okay?”

She blinks, her eyes shining. “I’m great, I was just dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” I drop a kiss to the tip of her nose and then her lips. “You’re not asleep.”

A shaky smile pulls at her lips. “Yeah, that’s the best part.”

Layla

“Are you sure I don’t look like a slutty college girl?” I ask Axelle, holding my arms out and spinning in a slow circle.

She laughs and swipes on a final coat of lip gloss. “Okay, fine. Yes, you look like a slutty college girl. The Snake will love it.”

I jerk my arms down and glare at my daughter. We went shopping for two straight days to find the perfect dresses for tonight. I liked a simple, yet very short black dress with spaghetti straps, but Axelle insisted that because it’s Valentine’s Day, I have to wear red. Thankfully, I look great in red.

Checking my cleavage for the third time, I bend over into the mirror to make sure the stretchy fabric stays put. I fiddle with the red satin bow that runs around my ribs and ties in the back. I look a little like a present that needs opening. Axelle’s right. Blake’s going to love it.

“Which shoes did you decide on?” I motion to the row of shoes that we’ve been trying on for the last hour.

Axelle scoops up a pair of black peep-toed pumps. She then tosses me a pair of red suede platform pumps with a thin ankle strap. “You wear these. They’ll be perfect.”

I slide them on and walk down the hallway a couple times to ensure their comfort. Oh, who am I kidding? Looking hot hurts like a bitch. But it’s totally worth it.

“Do you know where Killian is taking you tonight?” I watch my gorgeous and very mature-looking daughter step into her shoes.

“No, he said it was a surprise. I don’t care, I’m just happy he didn’t make me plan it all. These girls-ask-the-guys dances are stressful. It’s not fun being the guy.” She stands and smoothes her dress. “But he did say Blake was looking to take you somewhere super romantic.”

Nervous butterflies take flight in my belly, and I wonder if a glass of wine before he gets here to pick me up wouldn’t be a bad idea. I wobble on my heels.
Eh, probably not.

“Oh, I have to get my camera.” I bolt from her bedroom to mine.

“Mom, please don’t embarrass me,” she calls from her room.

“What? Just one picture to commemorate the night. It’s our first Valentine’s Day after all.” Yeah, right. One picture. I giggle imagining the irritated look I’m going to get from Axelle and Blake at picture time.

I find the small digital camera and shove it into my red clutch. This night is going to be perfect. Axelle and Killian are meeting up with Cara and her boyfriend for dinner. Then she’s spending the night with Cara. Suzanne, Cara’s mom, guaranteed they’d be home by midnight and not a second later. She even promised to call me once they got there. So I have all night alone with Blake at a sleepover at his place.

My eyes slide to the small bag I packed for tonight, which includes some very skimpy lingerie. Excited energy bubbles up in my chest. This is going to be a night to remember.

The doorbell rings, and my stomach leaps into my throat. They’re here. Or at least one of them. Axelle calls out that she’ll get it, and I race to the mirror to check my makeup one last time. I shake my fingers through my hair. I’m wearing it loose and wild, just the way Blake likes it. The red lipstick is in the lines, and there’s none on my teeth. I take a deep breath and move from my room when I hear the rumble of a deep voice. Halfway down the hallway, I freeze. I know that voice. It’s familiar and terrifying.

Icy fear torpedoes through my veins. My stomach flips and threatens to unload. Tremors rattle my legs, and I brace myself against the wall to keep upright.
No. It can’t be.

I walk my hands down the length of the hall to the kitchen. My legs are numb, and my heart’s racing. Peeking around the corner, I’m met with the dark eyes of my worst nightmares.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Laylay.”

Blake

This is it. My first official formal date. Ever. Or, at least the first one I’m excited about. I’ve accompanied girls to formal parties, even dragged a few to some of the shit we have to do for the UFL, but I was always rushing through the date to the hook up afterwards.

Tonight is different.

Yeah, I’m still stoked as hell to use my woman’s gorgeous body as my own playground of sexual pleasure until the sun comes up or she passes out from exhaustion. But I’m also proud as hell to take her out on my arm. Sit across from her at dinner and talk about nothing but laugh about everything. Give her a Valentine’s Day experience that makes up for her never having one.

The box in my pants pocket warms my thigh. It took me three days total to plan for a few hours out. After finding the fanciest restaurant in Vegas, and shit there’s a lot of them, I decided I should get her a gift. I want her to have something to remember this night. I called Jonah, and when he was finished laughing his ass off and saying I told you so in a variety of different ways, he told me I should get jewelry. Good thing I asked, or she’d have ended up with a pair of crotchless panties.

Raven met me at the mall, and she dragged me to Tiffany’s and helped me pick out a simple silver chain bracelet with a small heart charm hanging from it. It’s tiny and delicate, just like Layla.

After the jewelry, she pulled me into a men’s clothing store. I told her I had plenty of suits, but she said since it’s a
first
it calls for something new. That sounds like a bunch of chick bullshit to me. I groaned at the mention of wearing a pink tie, but I’m glad I indulged her. It looks sick as shit with my black shirt and suit.

After a last round of cortisone shots this afternoon, I’m feeling great. My back feels like it’s packed with cotton. No cramping or even a hint of pain. I make a quick shake and down it, along with my pills. Won’t want to be worrying about those when I get back here tonight all ready to get naked with my woman. I check the clock and internally high-five myself for my timing.

Minutes later, I’m in the Rubicon, listening to music and on my way to Layla’s. I pull into the lot, but don’t see Killian’s car yet. I know Layla will want to wait to leave until he picks up Axelle. I take the light-blue box from my pants and put it into my glove box. My feisty woman has been known to cop a feel when no one’s looking, and I don’t want her to find it too early.

I grab my suit jacket and take my time putting it on and straightening my tie. Taking two steps at a time, I head up to her door. It’s right before I reach it that something in the parking lot catches my eye.

The silver sedan.

But this time it’s not running, and there’s no one in it. My blood pounds in my ears. I scan the parking lot for paparazzi. Nothing looks suspicious, but those sneaky fuckers are great at hiding in places you’d never find them.

I take a deep breath. It was dark the first time I saw the sedan. Maybe this is a different car. I flex my fists to release the burning tension that’s gathered there. No need to show up at Layla’s door looking like a heaving bull.

I’ll make sure to keep my eye out tonight. As long as Layla keeps her top on this time, a few shots of us together won’t hurt.

Stepping to the door, I ring the bell and wait.

Huh, maybe they didn’t hear it? I ring it again and follow it up with a knock.

The lock clicks on the door, and I swallow back my nerves. The door cracks open to reveal Axelle.

I suck in a breath. “Wow, kiddo. You look like a princess.”

She resembles a high school cupid in a red dress that skims her ribs and then flares out to her knees. Her long chestnut hair is curled and falling over her shoulders. A tiny clip with shiny shit on it pulls some of her hair to the side and off her face. Her big blue eyes are… is she crying?

“Axelle, what’s going on? Are you…” My blood turns to sludge as my temper flares. “Did Killian cancel on you? I swear to God, if that fu—”

“No, no, he didn’t. He’s probably on his way.” Her eyes shift slightly over her shoulder before she catches herself and moves them back. “Um… I’m sorry, Blake, but uh… Mom’s not feeling well, and uh…”

Hold the fuck on. What?
“Your mom’s sick?” I peek over Axelle’s head into the apartment. “Is she okay? She seemed fine when I talked to her.”

Her body squeezes in tighter so that the door and frame sandwich her in. “Yeah it hit, like, suddenly, and she’s… well, she can’t go out tonight. She said she’d call you when she felt better.” Her eyes are shifting and not meeting mine.

She’s fucking lying.

“Axelle.”

Now her eyes dart to mine. A moment of fear flashes behind them.
She knows I’m on to her.

“I thought we were being honest. No lies, remember?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows and bites her lip. My pulse is pounding. Every muscle is coiled tight.

Her eyes stare beyond my shoulder. “She’s sick.”

Dammit, why is she lying?

Ripping this fucking door down and storming in certainly won’t help, and if she is sick, I’ll look like a controlling asshole. I switch up tactics. “Let me pop in, make sure she doesn’t need anything, and then I’ll take off.” I’m impressed with how convincing I sound.

She shakes her head a little too quickly. “No, I can’t. I promised. She made me promise not to let you in because she’s, like, throwing up and uh… she’s embarrassed.”

Fuck, this kid’s a shitty liar. “Axelle, let me—”

“Just go, Blake. She’ll call you. I promise. But, you have to leave. Now.” She pushes back to close the door, and I hold my hand out to stop it.

I lean in and whisper. “Kiddo, what the fuck is going on? You think I don’t know that you’re lying through your teeth? I want to see her. Just to make sure she’s okay. If she tells me to leave, I’ll go.”

Her eyes brim with tears. My heart cramps and dissolves a fraction of the anger that boils just below the surface.

“Hold on,” she whispers and shuts the door.

I stand there counting and picturing fuzzy baby animals to avoid going ten kinds of Hulk on the front door.

Layla knows me better than to think I’m going to walk away with a simple brush off from Axelle. I don’t know what’s going on—maybe she really is sick. All I know is I’m not moving a motherfucking inch until I hear it from her mouth.

Impatient, I reach for the door and twist.
Locked?
I pull out my key just as the door inches open.

My heart slams into my ribs so hard I stumble back a step. Layla is dressed in a fire red dress that she wears like a second skin. Her honey-colored breasts are pushed up and overflowing at the top, while the bottom cuts off just inches below her perfectly round ass. And to top it off, she’s wrapped in a big red bow. I feel my hand splayed over my chest before I realize I’d put it there. “You… you’re…” I blow out a long breath and blink to make sure I’m not seeing things.

“Blake, I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well.”

Her words bring me back. I fix my eyes on her, and damn if her body in that dress killed me, her face and hair just buried me. “Mouse, you look like an angel.”

She doesn’t blush. No smile, not even a twitch of her lips. This isn’t my Layla. “I’m sick, Blake. We’ll uh… I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

I rub my head and tug at as much hair as I can fit between my fingers. “I don’t get what’s going on. Axelle’s lying to me, you’re fucking lying to me. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Wait, why won’t they let me in the house? A fiery rage explodes behind my ribs. My vision blurs, and I step back. “Who’s in there, Layla?” My growled words are the first thing that gets a response.

Her eyes grow wide, and her jaw falls open. “Why would you say that?” The pitch of her voice is unusually high.

“Move away from the door.”

“Blake, no—”

“Who the fuck is in there?”
Fuck this.
I slam into the door and stumble into the tiny kitchen.

“Blake, no.” She grabs my arm and I shrug her off easily.

Kitchen’s empty. I move to the living room, where Axelle’s standing hunched over, her elbows locked to her sides, her hands balled together tight. What in the motherfucking hell is going on here?

There’s movement from the hallway that catches me off guard. I spin around fast.

A man saunters toward me with the confidence of a fucking royal. “You lost, boy?”