“Don’t sit up that fast, you’ll hurt yourself.”
I open my mouth to demand he lets me go, but he gets in before me.
“Don’t be pissed at me. It was a fair fight, and he gave it as hard as he got it. I’m not here to hurt you; I’m watching you while Max gets patched up. Now calm down and don’t put up a fuss. You got hit pretty hard out there.”
“Is he . . .” I swallow, “okay?”
Raide grins, and gosh he’s good looking. “He’s fine. Max is a warrior.”
“I hope you sleep in a lot of pain tonight,” I grunt at him.
He chuckles. “Fair call. Now come on, sit up slowly.”
He helps me up, and I’m forced to hold his wrists for balance. My head is pounding. I release one wrist and reach up, rubbing a tender spot near my temple. “Ouch,” I mutter.
“You got hit good. Sent your man in there into a tizzy.”
“Max?” I say, my eyes scanning the room. We’re in a locker room, and it seems it’s just the two of us.
“Yeah, he got up and leapt out of that fucking ring like a raging bull. He put blood everywhere.”
“Oh,” I say.
“You got elbowed in the temple, so we need to keep an eye on you.”
“Wait,” I say, letting him go fully now. “Why are you in here looking after me?”
He shrugs. “I know Max. He’s helping me out. He asked me to watch you.”
I study his face. Gosh he’s beautiful—well, in a rugged kind of way. He has these amber eyes, that most intense, incredible color. His hair is dark, his skin is olive, and he’s got a few imperfections on his face, like a slightly crooked nose, but they only add to the flawed perfection that he is.
“I’ve never heard him mention you.”
He flashes a grin. “That’s because I don’t get mentioned.”
“What are you?” I groan, shifting. “A criminal or something?”
He runs a hand through his hair, and reaches down for the first-aid kit beside the bench I was laying on. “You could say that.”
I blink. “Dude, I was kidding.”
He studies my face. “I wasn’t.”
Right.
“Okay, I don’t want to know. You’re friends with Max, yet the two of you nearly killed each other out there, and now you’re saying you’re a mysterious criminal.”
He chuckles and lifts an alcohol wipe. “Max and I knew what we were doing. It would have never ended with death, and I’m not a bad criminal.”
“Aren’t all criminals bad?”
His eyes flash. “Do you truly believe that statement?”
I sigh. “No,” I mutter.
“Exactly. Now, sit still so I can wipe that little cut you’ve got above your eyebrow. Must have split the skin.”
He moves forward and starts wiping the wound. It stings and I grit my teeth, but suddenly find myself staring at his chest, feeling nervous.
“So, ah,” I say, trying to look away, but he’s just too big and right in my line of sight, “are you friends with Max so he can help you?”
“I’ve known Max a while, but yeah, right now he’s helping me. Max knows a lot of people. People I need to find.”
“I don’t even want to know,” I grumble. “And what was the fight all about then?”
He shrugs. “It’s always fun getting in the ring with him.”
“You put yourself in a ring to get beaten up, for fun?” I gasp.
“It’s a great stress-relief.”
“You’ve got issues.”
He laughs, throaty and deep. “I’m not denying that.”
He leans back and studies his handiwork, then cleans up the mess and stands. “You want some water?”
“Yes please,” I croak.
He goes over to the cooler and pours me a foam cup full, bringing it back. I sip it and he sits beside me, waiting . . . for what I don’t know? Maybe he’s waiting for Max to return.
“When will Max come back?”
“Once they’ve finished his face.”
I study his bruising, battered face. “Who did yours?”
“Max.”
I shake my head. “Right. Crazy.”
“So, you and him . . . you’re married.”
“We were,” I groan, shifting my aching body. Being thrown around a crowd of crazy people does not feel nice. “Well, we still are, but we’re not together.”
“That’s a fuckin’ shame. The man looks at you like you’re the reason he’s still living.”
I flinch. “I think you’re seeing it wrong.”
“No, lady, you are. I’ve seen men, a lot of them, in love, and none of them look at their women the way he was lookin’ at you. I think maybe the problem here is that you can’t see it anymore.”
I look away, hands trembling.
“I was a bad wife.”
He sits down beside me, stretching his long legs out. “How so?”
“I didn’t realize he was in pain. That he was suffering. I let him push me away and then I had a child he didn’t know about.”
He’s silent for so long, I sigh.
“Go ahead and say it. I’m a shit person.”
“I don’t judge anyone. I’ve seen bad shit, enough of it that I don’t ever pretend to understand why people do the things they do. All I know is that if you think it’s wrong, and it’s hurting him, then you fix it.”
“I would if I knew how to.”
“Dig deep. There’s always an answer.”
I look over at him, and smile weakly. “I guess you’re not a bad seed after all.”
He grins.
I think I like Raide.
Max returns ten minutes later, and the moment he steps through the door my heart squeezes and tears burn under my lids. He orders everyone out of the room, and Raide stands, flashing me a smile before shaking Max’s hand and walking out. Then we’re alone. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t even know where to begin. I look into his brown eyes, and I can see the pain there, and I wonder how the hell I ever missed it.
“You were protecting me,” I say softly, the first words that come to my lips.
I’ve had this thought countless times in the last hour, but hearing it out loud makes it so much more real.
“I wasn’t going to let some fucker hit you and just leave you there, Ana.”
“I didn’t mean then,” I say, trying to keep the pain from my voice. “I meant when we were married.”
He flinches, and I know I’m right.
I’m such a fool. He pushed me away to protect me. To keep the pain from entering my world. If I was paying attention, if I was giving him what I should have been giving him, I would have seen that. The night in the hospital, I would have seen that he wasn’t telling me the truth. I guess a part of me wanted to believe nothing had happened, because the very idea terrified me. How selfish.
“Why, Max?” I say, standing on trembling legs. “Why didn’t you lean on me?”
He looks down at his hands, jaw clenching, fists balled.
I step closer, reaching up and cupping his jaw. “Why?”
I open my mouth to demand he lets me go, but he gets in before me.
“Don’t be pissed at me. It was a fair fight, and he gave it as hard as he got it. I’m not here to hurt you; I’m watching you while Max gets patched up. Now calm down and don’t put up a fuss. You got hit pretty hard out there.”
“Is he . . .” I swallow, “okay?”
Raide grins, and gosh he’s good looking. “He’s fine. Max is a warrior.”
“I hope you sleep in a lot of pain tonight,” I grunt at him.
He chuckles. “Fair call. Now come on, sit up slowly.”
He helps me up, and I’m forced to hold his wrists for balance. My head is pounding. I release one wrist and reach up, rubbing a tender spot near my temple. “Ouch,” I mutter.
“You got hit good. Sent your man in there into a tizzy.”
“Max?” I say, my eyes scanning the room. We’re in a locker room, and it seems it’s just the two of us.
“Yeah, he got up and leapt out of that fucking ring like a raging bull. He put blood everywhere.”
“Oh,” I say.
“You got elbowed in the temple, so we need to keep an eye on you.”
“Wait,” I say, letting him go fully now. “Why are you in here looking after me?”
He shrugs. “I know Max. He’s helping me out. He asked me to watch you.”
I study his face. Gosh he’s beautiful—well, in a rugged kind of way. He has these amber eyes, that most intense, incredible color. His hair is dark, his skin is olive, and he’s got a few imperfections on his face, like a slightly crooked nose, but they only add to the flawed perfection that he is.
“I’ve never heard him mention you.”
He flashes a grin. “That’s because I don’t get mentioned.”
“What are you?” I groan, shifting. “A criminal or something?”
He runs a hand through his hair, and reaches down for the first-aid kit beside the bench I was laying on. “You could say that.”
I blink. “Dude, I was kidding.”
He studies my face. “I wasn’t.”
Right.
“Okay, I don’t want to know. You’re friends with Max, yet the two of you nearly killed each other out there, and now you’re saying you’re a mysterious criminal.”
He chuckles and lifts an alcohol wipe. “Max and I knew what we were doing. It would have never ended with death, and I’m not a bad criminal.”
“Aren’t all criminals bad?”
His eyes flash. “Do you truly believe that statement?”
I sigh. “No,” I mutter.
“Exactly. Now, sit still so I can wipe that little cut you’ve got above your eyebrow. Must have split the skin.”
He moves forward and starts wiping the wound. It stings and I grit my teeth, but suddenly find myself staring at his chest, feeling nervous.
“So, ah,” I say, trying to look away, but he’s just too big and right in my line of sight, “are you friends with Max so he can help you?”
“I’ve known Max a while, but yeah, right now he’s helping me. Max knows a lot of people. People I need to find.”
“I don’t even want to know,” I grumble. “And what was the fight all about then?”
He shrugs. “It’s always fun getting in the ring with him.”
“You put yourself in a ring to get beaten up, for fun?” I gasp.
“It’s a great stress-relief.”
“You’ve got issues.”
He laughs, throaty and deep. “I’m not denying that.”
He leans back and studies his handiwork, then cleans up the mess and stands. “You want some water?”
“Yes please,” I croak.
He goes over to the cooler and pours me a foam cup full, bringing it back. I sip it and he sits beside me, waiting . . . for what I don’t know? Maybe he’s waiting for Max to return.
“When will Max come back?”
“Once they’ve finished his face.”
I study his bruising, battered face. “Who did yours?”
“Max.”
I shake my head. “Right. Crazy.”
“So, you and him . . . you’re married.”
“We were,” I groan, shifting my aching body. Being thrown around a crowd of crazy people does not feel nice. “Well, we still are, but we’re not together.”
“That’s a fuckin’ shame. The man looks at you like you’re the reason he’s still living.”
I flinch. “I think you’re seeing it wrong.”
“No, lady, you are. I’ve seen men, a lot of them, in love, and none of them look at their women the way he was lookin’ at you. I think maybe the problem here is that you can’t see it anymore.”
I look away, hands trembling.
“I was a bad wife.”
He sits down beside me, stretching his long legs out. “How so?”
“I didn’t realize he was in pain. That he was suffering. I let him push me away and then I had a child he didn’t know about.”
He’s silent for so long, I sigh.
“Go ahead and say it. I’m a shit person.”
“I don’t judge anyone. I’ve seen bad shit, enough of it that I don’t ever pretend to understand why people do the things they do. All I know is that if you think it’s wrong, and it’s hurting him, then you fix it.”
“I would if I knew how to.”
“Dig deep. There’s always an answer.”
I look over at him, and smile weakly. “I guess you’re not a bad seed after all.”
He grins.
I think I like Raide.
Max returns ten minutes later, and the moment he steps through the door my heart squeezes and tears burn under my lids. He orders everyone out of the room, and Raide stands, flashing me a smile before shaking Max’s hand and walking out. Then we’re alone. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t even know where to begin. I look into his brown eyes, and I can see the pain there, and I wonder how the hell I ever missed it.
“You were protecting me,” I say softly, the first words that come to my lips.
I’ve had this thought countless times in the last hour, but hearing it out loud makes it so much more real.
“I wasn’t going to let some fucker hit you and just leave you there, Ana.”
“I didn’t mean then,” I say, trying to keep the pain from my voice. “I meant when we were married.”
He flinches, and I know I’m right.
I’m such a fool. He pushed me away to protect me. To keep the pain from entering my world. If I was paying attention, if I was giving him what I should have been giving him, I would have seen that. The night in the hospital, I would have seen that he wasn’t telling me the truth. I guess a part of me wanted to believe nothing had happened, because the very idea terrified me. How selfish.
“Why, Max?” I say, standing on trembling legs. “Why didn’t you lean on me?”
He looks down at his hands, jaw clenching, fists balled.
I step closer, reaching up and cupping his jaw. “Why?”
