Yet he hadn’t fought at the higher-level shows. Stack didn’t doubt that Armie would win once the SBC got him on a card, but everything would be different—the size of the crowd, the fanfare, the rules. The pay. Most jumped at the opportunity.
But for far too long Armie had dodged it. Havoc had to literally run him to ground and corner him to make it happen.
One of these days, they’d all know why.
“You heading to the showers?” Denver asked.
Stack shook his head. “I’ll shower at Vanity’s.” Like most of the fighters, he kept a change of clothes in his gym bag, so he didn’t need to run to his apartment first.
With every second that passed, some anomalous urgency burned in his blood. He’d anticipated sex with other women. He’d been caught up in the moment.
This was as different as night to day.
He knew Vanity was dealing okay with the dogs; Armie would have called him otherwise. But for a woman who’d only wanted a sexual experience, she’d taken on a lot of shit that wasn’t hers to deal with.
On the drive over, Stack called his mom again to check on her. He’d spoken to her once already, and she’d insisted she was fine, claiming Tabby had set her up in the family room on a big soft couch with pillows, a blanket, the TV remote and her meds close at hand.
This time she answered on the first ring. “Why aren’t you at home getting some sleep of your own?”
“Mom.” Her chiding tone made him smile. “It was a special day at the rec center. I didn’t want to miss it.”
“Well, then, tell me you’re heading to bed now.”
Yeah, he was. But not alone and sure as hell not to sleep. “How are you?”
“The same as I was this morning when you called—perfectly fine.”
He checked the clock, then cursed low when he realized it was after four. “Have you eaten?”
“Why do you and Tabby keep acting like I’m teetering on the edge? Of course I ate.”
He knew his mother well. Usually when she got defensive, it was because she knew she was wrong.
Like the time she loaned money to Tabby, knowing fucking Phil had blown their budget on gambling. Or the time she’d paid Phil’s outstanding tickets because Tabby was crying over it. And still they’d lost that car. Like an idiot, Stack had replaced the transportation for his sister—only to find out last night that Tabby let Phil drive it.
In the past, whenever he thought of the twisted relationship his sister had with a dick like Phil, it enraged him. Now, on his way to Vanity, it only pissed him off a little.
“’S that right?” Stack said, wondering if she’d outright lied about eating. “So what’d you have?”
“Your sister brought me soup on her break.”
Huh. So Tabby had done something right. “Is that it?”
She huffed in exasperation—and ended up coughing.
“I’m swinging by,” Stack told her when she caught her breath. He’d make sure—
“No,” she protested. “Stack, honey, you know I love you. But right now I just want to close my eyes and sleep. I promise I’m eating enough.”
Given he was so anxious to see Vanity, he caved easily. “I’m coming by tomorrow, then.”
“That would be very nice.”
New suspicions gnawed on him, and damn it, he couldn’t let it go. “No fibbing, Mom.”
“I don’t—”
“Is Phil there?”
Silence.
Right eye flinching, Stack asked, “What’s he doing?”
“It’s his home, Stack.”
Right. A cheap apartment in a shit part of town—that was the best fucking Phil could do. But if he had to bet, he’d say Phil didn’t even contribute on that. Most of the bills fell to Tabby to cover. “Mom.”
She coughed, got a drink, and finally said, “He has a poker game going on.”
Son-of-a-bitch.
More times than Stack could remember, his mother had bailed Phil out of trouble, and he repaid her by having a party while she was ill?
In a rush, she added, “They’re in the kitchen and I’m in the family room. I can barely hear them...” Sensing that explanation wouldn’t cut it, she lost the pleading tone and adopted the this-is-your-mother attitude instead. “Stack Hannigan, you will not come charging over here, do you understand me? We’re nearing the holidays, and I don’t want a lot of strife in the family. I’m fine, and Phil, even with his shortcomings, is the one your sister wants.”
But for far too long Armie had dodged it. Havoc had to literally run him to ground and corner him to make it happen.
One of these days, they’d all know why.
“You heading to the showers?” Denver asked.
Stack shook his head. “I’ll shower at Vanity’s.” Like most of the fighters, he kept a change of clothes in his gym bag, so he didn’t need to run to his apartment first.
With every second that passed, some anomalous urgency burned in his blood. He’d anticipated sex with other women. He’d been caught up in the moment.
This was as different as night to day.
He knew Vanity was dealing okay with the dogs; Armie would have called him otherwise. But for a woman who’d only wanted a sexual experience, she’d taken on a lot of shit that wasn’t hers to deal with.
On the drive over, Stack called his mom again to check on her. He’d spoken to her once already, and she’d insisted she was fine, claiming Tabby had set her up in the family room on a big soft couch with pillows, a blanket, the TV remote and her meds close at hand.
This time she answered on the first ring. “Why aren’t you at home getting some sleep of your own?”
“Mom.” Her chiding tone made him smile. “It was a special day at the rec center. I didn’t want to miss it.”
“Well, then, tell me you’re heading to bed now.”
Yeah, he was. But not alone and sure as hell not to sleep. “How are you?”
“The same as I was this morning when you called—perfectly fine.”
He checked the clock, then cursed low when he realized it was after four. “Have you eaten?”
“Why do you and Tabby keep acting like I’m teetering on the edge? Of course I ate.”
He knew his mother well. Usually when she got defensive, it was because she knew she was wrong.
Like the time she loaned money to Tabby, knowing fucking Phil had blown their budget on gambling. Or the time she’d paid Phil’s outstanding tickets because Tabby was crying over it. And still they’d lost that car. Like an idiot, Stack had replaced the transportation for his sister—only to find out last night that Tabby let Phil drive it.
In the past, whenever he thought of the twisted relationship his sister had with a dick like Phil, it enraged him. Now, on his way to Vanity, it only pissed him off a little.
“’S that right?” Stack said, wondering if she’d outright lied about eating. “So what’d you have?”
“Your sister brought me soup on her break.”
Huh. So Tabby had done something right. “Is that it?”
She huffed in exasperation—and ended up coughing.
“I’m swinging by,” Stack told her when she caught her breath. He’d make sure—
“No,” she protested. “Stack, honey, you know I love you. But right now I just want to close my eyes and sleep. I promise I’m eating enough.”
Given he was so anxious to see Vanity, he caved easily. “I’m coming by tomorrow, then.”
“That would be very nice.”
New suspicions gnawed on him, and damn it, he couldn’t let it go. “No fibbing, Mom.”
“I don’t—”
“Is Phil there?”
Silence.
Right eye flinching, Stack asked, “What’s he doing?”
“It’s his home, Stack.”
Right. A cheap apartment in a shit part of town—that was the best fucking Phil could do. But if he had to bet, he’d say Phil didn’t even contribute on that. Most of the bills fell to Tabby to cover. “Mom.”
She coughed, got a drink, and finally said, “He has a poker game going on.”
Son-of-a-bitch.
More times than Stack could remember, his mother had bailed Phil out of trouble, and he repaid her by having a party while she was ill?
In a rush, she added, “They’re in the kitchen and I’m in the family room. I can barely hear them...” Sensing that explanation wouldn’t cut it, she lost the pleading tone and adopted the this-is-your-mother attitude instead. “Stack Hannigan, you will not come charging over here, do you understand me? We’re nearing the holidays, and I don’t want a lot of strife in the family. I’m fine, and Phil, even with his shortcomings, is the one your sister wants.”
