Thorn: Carter Kids #2 (21 page)

“No. Please go right ahead,” Liam, clearly hurt, told me. “Tell me what the infamous ex boyfriend turned jailbird would do. Is he still in prison?” he taunted. “How many years did he get again?”

“Fine,” I snapped, furious. “If Noah were here, he would rip that prick’s head off.” Slipping my arms into the straps of my bag, I pulled it onto my back. “He wouldn’t let them get away with it, and he sure as hell wouldn’t make me feel like I was wrong for sticking up for myself.”

“Finally,” Liam sneered, having the good sense to step aside and let me pass. “We’re getting down to it. Your precious Noah.”

“Don’t go there, Liam.” I warned him in a shaky voice as I marched through the gym, regretting ever confiding in him. “This has nothing to do with him.”

Liam knew I had an ex boyfriend called Noah, but what he didn’t realize was that he had tickets to go see said ex boyfriend in action later on this evening. If he did, I think Liam would have a very different outlook.

“It has everything to do with him,” Liam shot back heatedly. “Go on and deny it, Teagan. Tell me he isn’t the reason you’re holding back from me.”

I left the gym without answering Liam for two reasons.

The first reason being he didn’t deserve my answer – he had acted like a complete tool.

And the second reason was I didn’t want to lie.

“HOW YOU DOING, MAN?”
I heard my trainer ask seconds before he landed in the booth beside me. Tugging a sweet little brunette onto his lap, Quincy pressed a kiss to her neck before raising his beer bottle and clicking it against mine. “How are the knuckles?”

“Still functioning, Q,” I told him before taking a swig of my beer. I was sore as shit, but the adrenalin that was still coursing through me numbed the aching.

Quincy was celebrating tonight. So was the brunette on his lap, and the other forty or so people crammed up in the private room of the Krash bar.

I’d done it. Finally. After eighteen months of blood, sweat and fucking tears I had proved to all the doubters that I deserved to be here. I had fucking
earned
my title shot.

I buried Davy Bishop in the second round tonight, knocked his ass out with a superman. Poor fucker was out cold the second he hit the mat. I could have put him away in the first round, but I allowed him a little more time with it being on his home turf and all.

The venue was a helluva lot smaller than what I was used to, but the victory had the same taste about it as all the others. The taste of
more
. I was hungry for that title. It meant a lot to me. I wanted it to prove a point.

To myself and every motherfucker who ever doubted me.

“Smell that, champ?” Quincy chuckled, bleary-eyed and three sheets to the wind. “That, my man, is the smell of success – of freedom.”

Champ,
Quincy called me.

Not yet, but I would be…

I was twenty-five years old and had spent the majority of my adult life behind bars, paying for a liar’s mistakes. The irony that I was now at the top of the very same game that had gotten me thrown behind bars didn’t go unnoticed.

But I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to the feeling of freedom again. It had been eighteen months since I was released and every day since still felt like I was living on borrowed time.

I didn’t verbalize my thoughts though. Instead I stood up, tossed another shot down my throat, and headed towards the bar for something stronger.

A dark haired woman caught my attention at the far end of the bar and when I realized who she was my world came crashing down on me…

“Hope?” I called out as I pushed past a drunk couple in my bid to get to my old friend – hell, my
niece
.

My heart was beating erratically in my chest.

“Hope? Is she here – is Teagan with you?”

“Stay away from her, Noah,” Hope warned me before rushing from the bar.

Like hell I was staying away from her. The only reason I had accepted Bishop’s fucking challenge in the first place was the prospect of seeing her.

Every fucking day since she ran out on me felt like I was hemorrhaging.

She was my Thorn.

And I was getting her back.

I ENDED UP SPENDING THE DAY
in town, watching the parade and window-shopping before picking up a takeaway from the Chinese and heading home. When I eventually got back to our apartment just after seven, Hope was already gone out.

Showering and dressing in my pajamas, I settled down on the couch with a large glass of vino, and forced myself
not
to turn on the television. I couldn’t watch another one of his fights, because when he won – and he
would
win – I couldn’t bear seeing him mauling another brainless fan girl. So, stocking up on chocolate and wine, I decided to tuck into Hope’s manuscript instead.

…”What do I mean to you?” I blurted out, never one to mince words. My cheeks reddened, I could feel them burn, but I kept my eyes on his face.

“Everything,”
Jordan
mumbled, never taking his eyes off the pad he was sketching on. His fingers moved so fast across the paper, so skillfully, as I stared at him, drinking him in.

He looked good, too good for my twin bed he was sitting on – too good not to touch and I was itching to touch him.

His hair was a mess, a sexy mess of curls and his whole body looked entirely too tempting.

God, hormones had officially found me. This was only day three of summer vacation.
Jordan
and I had at least another month together. How the heck was I going to cope?

“Everything.” I tested the word around and decided that was a great answer. “You really mean that?”

“Of course,”
Jordan
added with a chuckle. “You’re my little keychain…”

“This is really good,” I muttered to myself after a couple of hours of engrossed reading time had passed. Fetching another bottle of wine from the kitchen, I poured myself another large glass before snuggling down on the plush cushions on our super-comfy couch, and devouring my best friend’s latest masterpiece.

…”Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked, holding my breath, fearing his answer, hoping he would lie and tell me he was fine because that look in his eyes was petrifying me. He was hurting. I could feel it in the way his hands trembled, I could see it in his eyes. Something was wrong.

“
Jordan
,” I whispered when he didn’t answer.

He didn’t look at me.

Instead, he stared downwards. God, I knew this conversation was going to end badly and if I was Ash, I’d know a number of different tricks to take his mind off his problems, but he wouldn’t let me touch him.

God knows I’d tried…

“Hope, I don’t…” he broke off and rubbed his face with his hand. “Just sit with me,” he choked out.

Edging closer to me, he bowed his head, rested his knee against mine and shuddered violently. “This is all I can manage,”
Jordan
admitted. “Please don’t ask me why.”

“I won’t,” I told him, forcing myself not to throw my arms around him.

I never asked and I never touched. He would freak out if I did and I needed him close to me. I needed the smell of him in my senses, the weight of his knee against mine. I needed answers.

Dammit…

“I love you,
Jordan
,” I whispered, hoping to god and every angel, star, and whatever the hell was up in the sky that he would open up to me. That today would be the day he would tell me his troubles.

“I’m never gonna be the right guy for you, Hope,” he husked, twisting his head to look at me. His green eyes penetrated me, burned me. “You’ll figure that out soon enough, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you’d let me go now. Your dad’s right about me….”

…As you can tell I’ve been in love before, but it was the first kind. The sweet innocent will-never-end kind of love that gently flickers over time but never completely burns out or fades from your heart.

It’s a special sort of love really, and sometimes it’s the one that lasts the longest – the one you remember when you’re old and gray and drawing your final breath into your weary lungs. If I had one wish it would be that I was his…his one love…the one that burned brighter and harder than all the others…the love that lasted the lifetime of the heart it was embedded inside…

It was gone one in the morning when the banging on our apartment door started.

The loud clattering startled me and I leapt off the couch. The manuscript I had been holding in my hand scattered to the floor and I groaned.

I hadn’t numbered the pages…

The loud rapping noise continued.

“Hang on,” I shouted as I made my way over to the door. Hope had been doing this a lot lately – going out for the night and forgetting her keys.

Usually I didn’t mind because I was either out with her or with the guys, but tonight I hadn’t felt up to going out clubbing.

“Hope, I swear to god I am going to tie your key around your bloody…” My voice trailed off the moment I opened the door inwards and caught a glance of my roommate’s wide-eyed, horrified expression.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, seconds before she barreled into my arms.