Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (37 page)

I
’m not
sure how she can still put up with me—better yet, how she can still love a fucked up man like myself.

I acted so fucking stupid last night. I got so angry that I went running to find that son-of-a-bitch. He had no fucking right to lay a finger on her, and that’s why I went.

The horrible memories of Flex kept popping up in my head. Mom, and how she’d cower in the corner of the living room, shakily telling me to go to my room and lock the door.

Back then, all I could do was watch. I was so young. So weak. I wanted to fight back, but Flex was so much bigger than I was.

I would scream for him to leave her alone, and he’d tell me to shut the hell up. And when he was finished with her, he’d come to my room, kick the locked door in, and punch me across the face, just to finish the job. On the good days, he’d slap me.

Mom wouldn’t stand down, though. She’d come in bruised and damaged, but she refused for him to hit me like he did her. He’d hit me once or twice, but she’d stumble in to stop him every time.

I should have run away with her—I told her we would be better off away from Flex, but she didn’t agree. I think she was too afraid to leave. Even Grandma Marie begged when she saw us bruised one day, but Mom refused.

Her refusal was her undoing. If she had listened to Grandma Marie, she would still be here.

She’d still be able to help me. Protect me. She’d be better. I just know it.

The day she died was a horrific one. I remember it like it was yesterday. I will never be able to get that image out of my mind. She’d overdosed and then hit her head on the edge of the bathroom counter. She was bleeding everywhere.

Splashes of her blood have tainted my memories. The stains that were on that dirty floor will never clear up or go away, no matter how much I try to forget it.

It’s all I could picture, only this time with
Jenny
cowering with fear, hoping to be saved.

I still want to find that fucker, trust me, but I’m holding off. I gave up looking for him last night after about two hours. I calmed down as much as I could.

I saw them looking for me, and every time I saw them coming in my direction, I went the opposite way.

After a while I just sort of… gave up on the whole idea.

I went to the pool and sat on the bench. The gate was locked, but I jumped it. I needed some air. Some time. Some space.

The only thing running through my mind was Jenny. I couldn’t do this to her. Not again. That was all I could think. When Oscar found me it was truly a relief. He didn’t question me, but he did scold me.

And then he said something that really fucked with my head.

“You want to lose Jenny again by doing something this stupid, then be my fucking guest. I’ll help you find that motherfucker and let you beat him into a bag of bones like you do all the others. But I want you to think about it. You’ll not only lose your contract and get sued out the ass for assault, but you’ll lose the woman you love, too. Again. Do you want that? Huh? Do you want to lose her over some shit you couldn’t control? It happened and it’s fucking done. You got her back, now rejoice in that and drop it. Violence doesn’t solve violence, Doom. Grandma Marie told you that every fucking day. This shit that happened to Jenny isn’t any different than what Flex used to do to aunt Sam. I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta man the fuck up. You’ve gotta be the better and bigger person. Not only for yourself, but for that girl that you love, that’s waiting in
your
hotel room for you. Don’t make her run away again. Don’t give her an excuse to leave you, man.”

He said all of this, and deep down I knew it was true. Violence won’t solve violence. It never has. I think of all the times I could have ripped Flex’s throat out, and in the end, what would have happened?

I’d have gone to jail all for two seconds of revenge. It isn’t worth losing everything.

I’ve got my Jenny back. I need her by my side. I’m not letting this woman go and I fucking mean that.

* * *

I
rub
my hair dry as Jenny wraps a towel around her body. She’s smiling way too hard right now and I know the exact reason why. That’s the best sex I’ve had in ages. It was like our first time again, only the full connection was there. Our bodies reunited and nothing could tear them apart.

“I’m sorry I had you worried, Jenny,” I murmur.

She shakes her head, waving a hand. “It’s okay.” Turning to pick up her toothbrush and the toothpaste, she drops a dab on the brush and then sticks it in her mouth.

I follow suit, grabbing my toothbrush and then taking the toothpaste out of her hand. She side-eyes me with a faint smile. It’s adorable, that smile of hers.

We brush our teeth in silence, and when we’re finally done, she studies my face, giving me a look as she opens the door.
The
look. My eyebrows shoot up as she swings it open and steps out, swaying her hips.

I watch her ass, her long, sleek legs. I want to be between those legs again. Badly.

Following her out of the bathroom, I wrap a hand around her waist when she meets in the middle of the room, but it’s as we look up that we see Kylie.

She’s sitting upright with my headphones on, bobbing her head to some upbeat song I can hear fading in and out. She’s turns her head to look at us and then grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

Pulling the headphones off, she says, “I see you found your guy.” She’s looking at Jenny.

“Yeah,” Jenny laughs. “Oscar brought him up.”

“Yeah. That’s good.” She stands up, pressing her lips, fighting a smile. “I see you found him… in the shower… naked… and wet.”

Jenny’s face turns beet red as I choke on a laugh. “Oh my goodness, Kylie!”

“Hey!” Kylie throws her hands in the air, holding up a guiltless stance. “You see I had the headphones on. I don’t know whose they were and I really didn’t care as long as I could block out the moaning and sighing.”

Jenny walks forward and grabs her suitcase. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t listen.”

I chuckle. “I really couldn’t care less.”

“Of course you couldn’t, Drake. What
do
you care about?” Kylie punches my shoulder as she frowns at me. I’m sure it’s meant to hurt, but let’s just say she hits like a girl. “Where in the hell were you? We were up all night looking for your rabid ass!”

“He was at the Aria the whole time.” Jenny rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated with the thought of it.

“The Aria?” Kylie looks confused.

“By the pool.” I try to justify myself.

“Doesn’t the pool close at six?”

“Exactly!” Jenny shouts. “That’s why we didn’t bother looking around there that much. I think we were all just a little too tipsy, drunk—whatever. The sober me would have definitely thought to look there.”

“Why in the hell were you at the pool?” Kylie thins her eyes at me.

“Needed some air… and space.”

“You didn’t beat anyone up, did you?”

“No. He was a good boy.” I glance at Jenny, smirking. She bites a smile, her cheeks blazing red now.

“Well… you know what?” Kylie looks between us. “You two love birds clearly need some more time alone. Don’t worry. I called Oscar already. He’s on the way. In the mean, I will be downstairs, grabbing coffee that is hot enough to sear my brain of what I know just happened in that shower.”

I laugh as she steps into her shoes and fluffs her hair in the mirror. “You have fun with that, Kylie.”

“Oh, I will.” Walking to the door, Kylie grabs the doorknob and pulls it open. Before she can go, she says, “Be good to my girl. I don’t want to have to come back to whoop some Doomsday ass.”

“Ha!” That’s a good one. She stuns me. Really, she does. Such a bold spirit.

“Later, Kylie,” Jenny chimes.

“Later, baby love.”

My eyes swing over to Jenny who is now giggling. “She’s wild.”

“That’s your best friend.” I laugh.

“I know I’m not going to hear the end of this one. And you know she’s going to spill it all to Oscar, so be prepared for that conversation to strike.”

“Most likely.” I sit down on the edge of the bed.

“So, when are you leaving?” she asks, picking out a strapless blue dress from the closet.

“Tomorrow afternoon, around one.”

She pauses, clutching the dress in hand. “You’re sure about this, Drake? I mean, I don’t want you to feel like we are rushing back into this or anything.”

“Jenny, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I stand and walk towards her, tucking her hair behind her ear when I get close. “I want you with me. I’m positive about it. The question is, are
you
?”

She nods, smiling. “Yes. I’m positive.”

“Good, because I get three months off before I start training again. I think we could use those three months to do as much catching up as we can… and then some.”

She nods. “I would love to know what you were doing these past four years besides fighting and training.”

I kiss her on the cheek. “I will tell you whatever you’d like to know.”

Her warm lips consume mine and I sigh, running my hands down her hips. They drift over her plump ass and she smiles behind the kiss.

“Drake,” she exhales.

“What? I can’t help myself. All I want to do is touch you. Take you. Make you mine as many times as I can.” The tip of my nose skims her jawline and I hear her breath hitch. “But I’ll hold off for now.”

She laughs, but it is short lived when her phone rings. She looks towards it before meeting my eyes briefly.

Stepping past me, she walks to the nightstand and picks it up. I see that flash of horror fill her eyes as she immediately silences the call and lowers the phone.

“Who is it?”

She avoids my eyes. “It was…him.”

I frown, sticking my hand out. “You want me to tell him to stop calling?”

“No, Drake. It’s fine. I’ll block his number today. He won’t be able to anymore.” She shrugs. “Besides, I think he’s calling because he leaves today.” Her phone does a short buzz and she snatches it up. She reads something and then rolls her eyes, tossing it on top of the comforter. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she grabs her bottle of lotion and rubs it on her legs.

“I don’t fucking like him, Jenny. You should just let me deal with him. A guy like that will never leave you alone. Trust me, I know. My father calls me every fucking day.”

“Every day?” She quirks a brow, eyeing me. “Do you answer?”

“Fuck no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have to. I don’t owe him shit.”

“You still don’t like him?”

“What is there to like?”

Her lips twist. “My… Mom has been calling a lot lately too.”

“She has?”

“Yeah. Shocking, right? First she makes Dad stop sending me money for tuition—leaving me to fend for myself—and now she’s calling nonstop. I don’t know what she wants, but I refuse to answer. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I doubt it’s just
nothing
if she’s calling every day, babe.” I grab a pair of boxers out my suitcase and step into them. “She might have something important to tell you.”

Her eyebrows draw together as she rubs lotion on her elbows. “If it isn’t her telling me she found a way to bring Mitchell back to life, then I don’t care.”

“Be realistic.” I fold my arms.

She scowls lightly.

“When’s the last time she called every day?” I ask.

“She hasn’t since I was in Fox River.”

“And you don’t find it strange that she’s calling non-stop now?”

She turns to face me. “What are you getting at, Drake?”

“Well, shit, Jenny. Flex has been calling my ass ever since the day Grandma Marie died. He hasn’t let up. Doesn’t matter that I’ve changed my number, he always manages to find a way. He knows people. But that’s expected of him, which is why I ignore him. I have nothing to say to him unless he has an apology for me… and we all know I will never get that. But your Mom has been calling as of now… not before. You don’t find that… not like her?”

“I guess… I don’t know.”

Her eyes lower to my chest, but then her eyebrows pull together. Standing, she walks towards me, running her fingers over the cross I have tattooed on my chest. I look down with her.

“When did you get this?” she asks.

“About three months after I found out you were going to Yale.”

“Doomsday Love,” she reads out loud. Her eyes move up to mine. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” I murmur, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it, “that the part of me that loves being Doomsday
can
fall in love. He is capable of it, but only one person can bring that true love out of him. And that is the girl who gave me that vending machine cross in fifth grade.”

Her smile stretches and she reveals a full, white smile. “Oh my God, Drake.”

“Stupid?” I ask.

“No,” she breathes, looking down at it again. “No—it’s perfect. And sweet.”

“I know that cross is important to you. You should keep it for yourself again. I have the daily reminder with me now.” I smirk.

She nods, her eyes glistening, but then she steps back, and a look of distress smothers her features.