PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance (14 page)

SAFFRON

Chapter 17

PENSACOLA

ONE
WEEK AGO

S
awyer
probably thought that he was being clever. He had made no mention of the coming
fight, or of any identifying details on where it might be – although I
had already figured these details out, as I mentioned before. That’s why, when
the night came, I lazily enjoyed some food in front of the television as he
nonchalantly pretended that he wasn’t about to wander out in the city and knock
somebody’s teeth in while an audience cheered.

He still clearly trained for it – and even still
insisted on doing it at home. While we were slightly awkward around each other,
after the erection incident, I didn’t shy away from swimming outside while he
trained. I didn’t watch him as much, and he didn’t look over at me as often,
but we continued our unspoken companionship. I liked to think of it as some
sort of support, maybe. Perhaps he didn’t even really notice.

It was clear
to me that he was growing tenser at the night approached. He neither trained
the day before, nor the day of – obviously letting his body rest for the
coming match. However, he was on edge the whole day, aimlessly wandering around
the house but unwilling to leave or talk to me about it.

“You seem
frustrated,” I observed casually, reading a magazine on the couch. “You want me
to help with that?”

“I’m fine,”
he grumbled, ignoring my tease.

“You don’t
look
fine.”

“Your nose is
buried in a fashion mag.”

“You don’t
sound
fine.”

“Shut up.”

I shot him a
filthy look – he stopped, looking apologetic.

“I’m sorry.
There’s just a lot on your mind.”

I closed the
magazine, hiding a smile. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I can’t talk
about it.”

“Sure you
can.” I leaned up, grasping onto the top of the couch as I peered impishly over
it. He was wandering around the foyer nearby, and he glanced briefly in my
direction.

“That’s a
good look for you,” he observed.

“Huh?” I
directed my attention to my mess of hair, batting at it a little. “Why do you
think so?”

“It’s cute.
Natural.”

“Riiiiight,”
I chuckled, blowing a few strands out of my face. “You’re just distracted.”

“Yeah…I guess
so.”

“Why don’t
you go relax, huh? Pool’s probably warm.”

“I don’t have
time,” he muttered, glancing up at the clock.

“Sure you do.
It’s not even –”

Oh crap. How did it get so late?

“Well then,”
I improvised. “Why not just go out for a ride or something? Feel the breeze on
your hair, you know. Stuff like that. Why pace around when you can just get out
some steam on your motorcycle? You’re a big, tough motorcycle guy, right? Go do
motorcycle junk.”

He looked at
me with an odd expression on his face.

Oh shit, did I say too much?

“Yeah…that’s
actually not a bad idea,” he thought aloud. “But I might be gone for a few
hours. Lots of road, lots of stress to burn…”

“You go do
that. I’ll be fine.”

He turned
towards the stairs to the upper landing, then stopped and turned. “What are
you
going to do, Saffie?”

“I dunno!” I
shrugged, still kneeling on the couch and watching him over the back. “I was
reading earlier, might pick that back up. There’s also Netflix. Might go out to
a club again–”

“To a
what?
” He suddenly looked furious,
taking a few steps towards me.

“To
a…club…look, you weren’t
here
,
remember? I had to do
something
to
keep myself entertained while you were still being your asshole self…”

I cowered
down, afraid that he was going to lash out at me again. He staggered towards me
in a blind rage.

“Saffron.”

“Y…yes?”

He glowered
down at me, but his expression changed subtly. It was just enough for me to
straighten my back, looking up at him meekly.

“I’m your
stepbrother. I’m
responsible
for you.
You know you’re not supposed to leave this house… And besides that… I’m not
going to let another man touch you, understand?”

“No,
actually…that’s sort of my decision, right?”

“No it’s not.
Not now.” He growled. It became clear to me that he was holding back the
majority of his anger, but he was still fuming down at me.

Oh, great. Now the cage-fighting brother is going
to do the whole overprotective “I’m a big, tough guy, and I’ll beat the shit
out of anyone who touches my sister” act.

It was kind
of a turn-on.

“Well…I can’t
promise anything.”

“Yes you
can.”

“Okay, what
then? We’ll see if I’ll play along.”

It was
dangerous to push his buttons while he was mad…but I enjoyed it. I’d grown to
delight in being on this side of our little rivalry, or whatever the fuck I’d
call his cocky arrogance.

“You will
promise me that you won’t go out to one of those clubs, bars, any of that alone.
Understood? You’re safe here. I don’t know if you’re safe out there. And if
something
does
happen to you…”

I thought
about winding him up, but he was being so sincerely furious about this…and it
was a reasonable request.

“I promise.”

“You promise
what
.”

I sighed. “I
promise that I won’t go to a club or bar without company, and that if something
happens to me, I’ll tell you anything.”

Sawyer
hovered, staring down at me, before his shoulders began to sag. “Good,” he
muttered. “I don’t need to worry about you getting yourself into any trouble,
on top of everything else I have to deal with…but for what it’s worth…I’m
sorry.”

I was
confused. “What are you sorry about?”

“I shouldn’t
have been so inaccessible,” he confessed. “I should have been around more, able
to handle…”

He let the
thought wander.

I glanced
over at the clock again. “You’d better get going, Sawyer. You’re going to be
late for your…drive. I mean, why not go ahead and get it out of your system
now?”

My
stepbrother looked at me oddly again, wondering what I knew, and then followed
my gaze to the clock. “Shit, you’re right,” he replied. “I mean, why not? Why
wait. I’d better get going now.”

“You’ve got
it,” I nodded, feeling for my smartphone in my pajama pocket. It felt
reassuring under my fingertips – a breach, yes, but a constant connection
to him. “I’ll just sit back here and relax. You go have fun. Do whatever you
have to.”

“Right…” he
murmured, shaking his head. He disappeared upstairs, then back down with a
duffle bag and his motorcycle helmet. After opening the door, he hesitated,
turning towards me.

“Listen,
Saffron…”

Buried in a
Netflix queue, I turned over my shoulder. He sounded concerned, and that
briefly worried me. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I just want
you to know…” he paused, fumbling for words. “I have always enjoyed being
around you. If I’ve never told you…I’m happy to have you as part of my family.”

I smiled
wide. “You haven’t…and now that you treat me a little better, I can say the
same for you. Good luck.”

He nodded,
reflecting on the last part of what I’d said. It didn’t take much to see the
cogs spin in his head, reaching the right conclusion. I halfway expected him to
grow furious again; he’d drop his things and fly back across the room,
demanding that I promise I wouldn’t try to go visit him during the fight. It’d
turn into a fight, or maybe I’d just lie and tell him I wouldn’t go.

Instead, he
glanced at me knowingly and nodded.

“I don’t need
luck. I’m ready for this.”

“Knock ‘em
dead, Sawyer.”

He flashed me
a grin, and closed the door behind himself. I followed him from the couch with
my smartphone, watching the signal stop at
New
Horizons
, and checked my email for the pre-purchased anonymous ticket. That
was harder since Dad took away my credit cards. I had to use an old paypal
account. The site had loaded poorly on my phone – I’d just bought the
ticket for the only fight that was shown for the night, even without getting to
see any of the major details.

With
everything fallen into place, the only thing to do was to place a beacon for a
driver to arrive. I took the opportunity to change, and waited impatiently
outside until the driver arrived – a bearded hipster with black-rimmed
glasses.

“New
Horizons,” I told him. “Do you know the place?”

“Hell yeah!
You’re going to go check out the fight? Now’s the time…that thing’s gonna start
in about thirty minutes!”

I smiled
mischievously as I climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re damned right I am.
Think you can get me there before it starts?”

“You got it.”

We kicked it
into gear and drove around the late Saturday night traffic, caught at a few
more red lights than I would have liked. But he still made it there in
reasonable time, and I checked the time on my phone.

Crap. The fight’s already starting.

I showed my
ticket to the guy at the door. Curtains had been hung along the glass, hiding
the interior from sight, although I could already hear some cheering through
the walls.

“We’re just
locking up, little miss. You’re lucky you’re here now.”

“Sorry,
traffic was a nightmare…”

“Better run
along inside. The crowd’s rough tonight.”

“Is it?” I
peered into the gym as he held the door open. He was right – it was a
complete mess, a massive wave of beer-soaked spectators, angling for a show. I
could see that there were already three people in the ring – Saywer,
whomever his opponent was, and what looked like a referee. “Dammit, I come all
this way and I’m not going to get a good spot…”

“Well, that’s
why I encourage you arrive
earlier
,”
the doorman told me firmly. “Hell, we had people here two hours ago.”

“But I’m his
sister!” I muttered. “Is there, like, a VIP section or something?”

“Hold on,
you’re Bonesaw’s
sister?
” He looked
over at the ring, then back to me, and then back again. “You don’t really look
like him all that much…I mean, I
guess
there’s
a bit of a–”

“Stepsister,”
I corrected myself. “He might not have mentioned me, actually…”

“Well…it’s
true that you’re going to have a terrible spot, no matter what. And these guys
are taller than you…you might as well not even be here, unless you plan on
hanging out way back here.” He looked around outside, then ushered me in,
locking the door behind himself. “Look, the owner’s up front with the lead
trainer. They’re sweet on cute little things like you. Let’s see if we can get
you a decent spot.”

“Oh my god,
seriously? You are my best freaking friend right now.”

“Eh, don’t
mention it,” he chuckled. “I’m not promising you anything, though. Come with me
– stay close. These guys are rowdy.”

The doorman
personally escorted me through the throng. He was a bigger guy himself –
not quite bodybuilder level, but tall and broad, capable of forcing himself
through the mob. He held me by the arm as we pushed through, gently guiding me
and keeping me close.