Wreck (Bareknuckle Boxing Brotherhood Book 2) (9 page)

Zoe swung open the door when she knocked.. “Is—is Kyle here?”

“Yeah,”.

“I was just at Wreck. He had a fight, and the bouncer said he was in pretty bad shape. I just wanted to know if he was okay. I don’t—don’t tell him I was here, okay?” she said, trying not to sniffle with relief.

“He’s not okay; he’s out of his fucking mind. Come on in.” Aaron said.

“No, I don’t think he’d want me here, but thanks.”

“Someone’s got to talk him out of there, and I’m still pissed about having to clean up the mirror he broke, so it ain’t gonna be me.”

Shea walked straight into Zoe’s arms and started to cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought maybe he was hurt or he was out somewhere and needed help. The bouncer said he was drunk off his ass and yelling at the audience, and it was ugly. I’m just so glad he’s safe.”

“He’s not safe. As soon as he stops acting like a pissed off little girl and opens that door, I’m knocking some sense into him. He hasn’t quit fighting. Did you know that? I thought he knew what loyalty was. I thought he quit to back me up and help Ma.”

“Aaron, she knew, okay? She went to Wreck to look for him. You know what that place is like.”

“Yeah, but how do you know? You never saw a fight club until Swagger?” he teased, softening a little.

“When I was passing out those fliers to get people tested as potential kidney donors, I went down there, and they let me put one up. It’s pretty bad.”

“I could’ve told you that we didn’t want any kidneys that hung out at Wreck. They’d have hepatitis or something.”

“That affects your liver,” Shea said.

“Whatever. It’s all in there together,” he grinned cheekily.

“Look, Aaron, let’s go get something to eat.”

“We already had dinner.”

“Work with me here. Maybe she can talk sense to your brother without us breathing down her neck. We’ll be back, Shea,” Zoe said, steering Aaron from the apartment.

Shea walked to the closed door of his bedroom and laid her hand on it tentatively. She tried to remember her training from the ER days about dealing with people in a state of alarm and how to deescalate them. But this was Kyle, and she wanted to scream, because he’d scared her so bad running off like that, getting wasted, and going to Wreck anyway.

“Kyle?” she said tentatively.

“Go ‘way,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not going away. Your brother said you knew something about loyalty, but so do I. You fucked up. You bailed on me and shut off your phone and did god knows what. But I’m here and I want to talk to you, Please, Kyle.”

“GO AWAY!” he roared.

Shea took a step back from the door, tears springing to her eyes. She squared her shoulders and kicked the door once for emphasis. “Listen, Bitch Mittens, I don’t take that crap off anybody. Now talk to me like a decent person or open the door so I can kick you for scaring me like this. Cut the dramatics and grow up,” she said, wincing and hoping that tough love was a thing that worked with him.

“You came here to yell at me? My life is in the goddamned toilet, and you’re here to yell at me?”

“You yelled at me,” she grouched.

“Aaron knows I’m fighting.”

“I know. He’s mad. When he opened the door, I thought he might take a swing at me.”

“He doesn’t hit women. WE don’t hit women.”

“That’s a start. Let’s work our way up to
we don’t hit anyone
.”

“I won my fight tonight.”

“You’re still losing the war, Danny Boy. Is this what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want,” his voice came, broken and softer through the door.

Shea sank down onto the floor, glad he sounded a bit more like himself, but aching that he was in so much pain.

“Let me look at you. I’m a nurse. I’m good with bloody noses,” she offered.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’re completely off the rails. Can you tell me what set this off?”

“Set what off?”

“The work-skipping, drinking, fighting descent into crap. That’s what.”

“Nothing,”

“Nothing?”

“I don’t want this. Any of it. I don’t want some mad ex-whatever Ashley is and a kid who’s sick because of my genetics and a washed-up career in the ring and this washed up shit life where nothing makes sense. There’s no good ending for any of this.”

“I know it’s hard. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks,”

“It’s not just a couple of weeks. I don’t see any point in it, any of it. All I’m ever going to do is disappoint people. Aaron’s disappointed that I didn’t quit fighting, Ashley’s disappointed that I’m a bum who isn’t father material, you’re disappointed because I blew off work to get drunk. Might as well burn it down now. Fucking expectations.”

“Nobody said a sea-change was easy, Kyle. But I’m here if you want me.”

“I reckon I thought you’d be done with me.”

“I’m never going to be done with you, Kyle Dolan. Any other guy, if he’d pulled something like this, I never would’ve looked back. But this is you, and for some reason, that’s different. So open the door, because you’re not the only one who’s insecure here.”

“It isn’t locked.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he said.

Shea found him sitting on the floor with his back against the bed. His eye was black and swollen, and there was dried blood on his face. He had the hollow-eyed expression of a man who’d gone to rack and ruin.

“Don’t tell me, I should see the other guy?” Shea said.

“Nah. I just want you to see me, lass,” he said.

Shea sank down beside him. He slung an arm around her, pulling her in tight against his side, and kissed her temple. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,”

“I didn’t think you would either,” Shea admitted, “But then I chased you down.”

“I went crazy. What if I go crazy again?”

“Then I’ll kiss you until you calm down,” she said, and her mouth found his.

Shea was pushing aside his clothes, her fingers stealing across his stomach as she pulled his shirt over his head. She put her mouth to the dark lines of his tattoo. Kyle drew the elastic out of her hair until it spilled over his hands. Desperate to be closer, she tried to wriggle out of her tank top, but he stopped her. Taking her face in his hands, he nipped at her lips, parting them and sliding his tongue in her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that shook her. He gripped the hem of her tank top and ripped it straight up the middle until it fell from her shoulders in shreds. She laughed against his mouth as his hands found her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples until she ground against him, panting, rubbing her bare skin against his.

Kyle surged to his feet, bringing her with him, and set her on the bed. He pushed down his jeans, and Shea gasped at the thick hardness that jutted out. She gripped him in her hand with a shudder of anticipation, wanting him within her now. She looked up at him, asking him with her eyes to take her, to make her feel whole again. Kyle sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap, settling her legs on either side of him and guiding her hips down over his length. She cried out at the penetration. Her head fell back as she took all of him in, rocking against him with abandon. His fingers stroked and rolled her nipples as she writhed on top of him.

“Please, I need you,” she said, her eyes wide.

Kyle turned, lowering her onto his rumpled sheets and pushed between her legs. A stuttering sob broke from her as she contracted around his length. She swam in the intimacy of his gaze, of his mouth on hers, taking all control from her. Kyle touched her cheek softly, nipping at her lips again. He stroked into her deeply, relentlessly, until she shattered beneath him again as he cried out and surged inside of her. Her arms went around him and she held him as tightly as she could, not wanting him to move away from her.

“You’ve captured me, lass,” he said with a grin.

“I love you,” she told him, burying her face in his neck shyly. Shea curled up in his arms, her head on his shoulder, and traced her fingers along his face, across his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, along his lips. She came to the short curved scar beside his eye.

“What’s that from?”

“Some asshole hit me with a broken bottle,” he said. “Long time ago.” He took her fingers and kissed them.

Soon they were kissing again, pulling each other close, the taste of his skin filling her senses, the thick push of him between her legs making everything go dark. Her body tightened and pulsed around him again. They slept in each other’s arms, and when he nudged her awake she smiled.

“I have to go talk to my mom. I have a lot to come clean about. Will you come meet her?”

“You want me to? Really?”

“You’ve been with me through all this, holding me up. I need you to help me do this, too. She needs to know about her grandchild, and she needs to know you, too.”

Shea threw her arms around him, laughing with tears in her eyes.

“Yes. Yes I’ll go with you. I’ll do anything,” she said. “I was afraid to open my eyes, that you’d be gone.”

“You thought I’d ditch you and you went to bed with me anyway?”

“I’m not proud of it, but yeah. There’s one problem, though. You tore up my shirt. What will I wear to meet your mom?”

“Aw, Zoe’s got a ton of clothes.”

“Zoe’s five feet tall. I can’t meet your mom in a crop top.”

“So wear my Beatles t-shirt.”

“So your mom can take one look at me and know I’ve been shagging her son? No thanks.”

“She’s going to figure that part out anyway. You might as well wear a shirt,” he said, dragging it out of the laundry basket and tossing it to her.

***

Carla Dolan’s apartment was on a slightly better street than the self-defense school in that there were no syringes on the stairs and no obvious crime scene tape. Kyle walked right in and pulled Shea after him by the hand.

“Good morning, Ma, I brought someone I think you should meet. This is Shea.”

Carla stood up from the kitchen table, where she was playing solitaire with an old deck of cards, and drew herself up to her full height. She might have been wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, but she had the bearing of an empress…or a mother bear. “I’m Carla. Kyle and Aaron’s mother.” She held out her hand almost regally.

Shea shook her hand, finding her own engulfed by the stronger, larger hand of the woman before her. “I’m happy to meet you. I’ve heard a great deal about you from your son.”

“Don’t believe half of it. I’m neither a saint nor a tyrant, though he’s like to call me both. Are you the roommate that my Zoe goes on about?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then I’m doubly glad to meet you. That Zoe has been a daughter to me like I never thought to have. I love my sons and they’re good boys, but sons…well, they love their Ma and get on with life, maybe check in every week or so. It’s as it should be, now, but a mother worries, and now I have Zoe to let me know what’s going on in their lives and have a chat.”

“Zoe is wonderful. I don’t know where we’d all be without her,” Shea agreed tensely.

“Ma, we’re not here on a social call.”

“You mean you didn’t trek an entire two blocks for the sole pleasure of my company? What’ll be the meaning of it, then?”

“I think you better sit down.”

“I’ve taken most of the blows of my life on my own two feet, and I’ll stand for this one and thank you to go on,” she said, her eyes steely.

Shea couldn’t help thinking how she looked so much like Olive—indomitable and fierce, and impossibly brave.

“I’ve been fighting again. Still, really. I didn’t quit.”
“Och,” she said.

Shea shot Kyle a look.
“
Och
is what she says instead of taking the lord’s name in vain,” he said with a shake of his head. “It means I’m about to have my ears boxed and the name of God raining wrath down on my head.”

“Don’t you make light of this, boy,” Carla said, her voice as tight, as furious as Aaron’s had been the night before, “You made a promise to your family, and you’ve broken it, most likely because you’d miss the attention if you weren’t taking a swing at someone. Enough now. You’ll quit if only to keep your word to me and the Lord above. God give me patience with this boy,” she said.

“That’s only the tip of it, Ma. There’s more.”

“What now? A plague of locusts on us?”

“I have a—a kid.”

Carla dropped into a kitchen chair, her mouth open. “Is this that nonsense with the Hathaway girl again? That floozy slept with everyone in the building, and the child was Hispanic. There was no way to pin that on you, so don’t you give her a dime!”

“It’s not the Hathaway girl, Ma. It’s—it’s someone else.”

“Shea? Is that why I’m to meet you now? You’re expecting my son’s child?” Carla’s eyes narrowed in a nearly exact replica of Kyle’s suspicious glare.

“No, ma’am,” she faltered.