The Fighter Duet: Two Full-Length, Red-Hot New Adult Fighter Romances Read online

  A hard cube met my fingertips, and I pulled out a cheap, red-vinyl box that opened with a squeak. Inside was the thinnest gold band anybody had ever seen. It was all we’d been able to afford. I think it cost twenty dollars. Pulling it out, I slipped it on the third finger of my left hand, and my breath hiccupped.

  Going back to the box, I dug some more until I found the one picture I still had of us together. Blake had his skinny arm thrown over my shoulder, and I was leaning forward laughing, clutching his waist. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were half-closed while he flipped off the photographer with his other hand.

  God, we were so young—not that I was so old now, but when this was taken, I’d only been eighteen. Mrs. Clarkson was eighteen when she’d married her husband. But they’d had forty years together. Blake and I only had three.

  Staring at the faces, I waited for the tears to start. I braced myself for the gut-wrenching sobs that used to double me over and have me silently screaming. It always happened when I looked at these mementos. How long had it been since I’d done this? A year?

  Nothing happened. I sat in silence staring at these artifacts from my past, and that was exactly how they felt. Distant.

  My phone rang in the other room, and I pushed myself off the floor. Wobbling back to the living room, I took another long sip of wine, still amazed I wasn’t crying. On my phone face was a girl with a wide smile and light-brown curls flowing over her shoulders. A garland was across her forehead. Mariska.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Rook hired a new guy today?” Her voice was loud and taunting.

  “Probably because I was too pissed at catching them fucking again.” My voice was a little slurry, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  She screamed a laugh. “No. WAY!”

  I put my wine glass on the coffee table and fell back on the couch with a loud exhale. I needed to eat something.

  “Way,” I muttered, reaching up to touch the plastic cap still on my head. I still had dye in my hair. Great. Dragging myself off the couch, I headed to the bathroom.

  “They are so inspiring.” Mariska’s voice had gone dreamy. “Imagine being married to someone that long and still wanting to fuck their brains out all the time.”

  My eyes rolled. “It’s more shocking than inspirational, actually.”

  “I’d love a sneak peek. Rook’s hot. I bet he has an enormous dick.”

  “Please. Don’t. He’s our boss.” The fact was, he did—and I didn’t want to think about it.

  I leaned toward the mirror and lifted the plastic, checking my color. It looked ready. “But if you really want to see it, you could try working longer than two hours in the middle of the day. That seems to be their down time.”

  “Looks like I’ll have to if I’m going to see Mr. New Guy.” She was back to scheming. “Pete said he’s clearly got a backstory. What did you think?”

  Turning, I leaned against the sink. “I didn’t see him. I left early.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  The tiny wedding band was still on my finger, and I stared at it for a few moments. Still nothing.

  “Kenny?” Mariska’s voice was a little louder. “You okay over there?”

  “I don’t know.” I turned my hand over and studied the small, black tear I’d inked in my palm. “I mean, Yes! Physically, I’m fine. But something’s different.”

  “What do you mean? What’s different?”

  “I’m not sure, but I tried to come home today and sort it out. My feelings are all mixed up, and I just feel this tension inside, like I’m going to bust open.” Whoa. I never talked this much about my feelings. No more wine tonight.

  “Go out with me tomorrow night!” She was almost shouting with excitement. “Just say yes for once and don’t think about it. We can dance all that bad juju away!”

  Images of me with her in a dance club flickered through my mind. “I’m going to Wilmington. I miss Lane.”

  “You were just there last weekend!” she cried. “You’ve got to go out and be around guys your age.”

  “Tell you what.” I pushed off the sink and walked back to my room. “Next week, I’ll go out with you.” I took the small band off my finger and returned it to the vinyl box.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  We disconnected, and I returned everything to the larger box and pushed it all the way to the back of my closet again. Switching off the light, I headed to the bathroom.

  The water ran deep violet as I washed out the dye, massaging my scalp with my fingers. Once it was clear, I shut off the tap and squeezed out the excess. Then I grabbed the blow dryer and turned my back to the mirror. I hadn’t bleached it first, so no telling how it would look. When it was completely dry, I turned around, and gasped. It was perfect—dark, blackish-violet, cascading over my shoulders like a cape. I turned to the side and shook my straight hair down my back. I couldn’t wait for Lane to see it.

  Running back to the living room, I scooped up my phone and shot a quick text to Patrick. Is it okay if I come for a visit tomorrow? You busy?

  I waited, wondering if it was too late to order take-out when my phone buzzed in my hand. Sure! Lane misses Mommy.

  A smile broke over my face, and I quickly replied. Will be on the road before eight. See you soon!

  If anything could break me out of a funk, it was chubby little hands and a heaping dose of baby scent. I couldn’t wait to cuddle my little boy.

  4

  “Live life. No regrets.”

  Kenny

  By mid-afternoon I pulled my car up to Patrick and Elaine’s place in Wilmington. The eight-hour drive was exhausting, but dashing up the stairs, I couldn’t wait to see everybody. Patrick had the door open before I’d even knocked twice.

  “Hey, get in here.” He kissed my head before heading back to the bar where he was working. “Elaine and Peanut ran to the store to get more supplies.”

  His back was to me, and for a moment, I took him in. His faded jeans were slung low on his slim hips and his green tee stretched across his broad shoulders. I dropped my overnight bag on the floor inside the door and walked over to where he was cutting onions, carrots, and potatoes into quarters.

  “Digging the purple hair.” He hooked a long strand over his pinky and tugged before going back to his work. “But you’re still a bone. I’m making giant cheeseburgers, and I expect you to eat two.”

  “Either your memory is for shit or you never listen to me.” I pecked his scruffy cheek, the warm, faintly citrus scent of him filling my nose before I hopped up onto the counter.

  “What are you talking about? I always listen to you.” He only paused a moment to squint at me then he dropped the knife and pulled out several long, bamboo skewers.

  “I’m lactose intolerant, dumbass. You know this. Now hand me one of those.”

  “Well, shit.” His tone was teasing, and he passed me a skewer. “I can still make you a plain burger. Of which you’ll eat every bite.”

  “Sounds great! Just no bun. And no kebobs for me.”

  His lips pressed together as he moved the cutting board of vegetables between us. I grabbed a potato and speared it.

  “That’s your problem. Why no carbs?”

  “I teach low-impact, strength-training classes. Protein is what I need. Look how bulked up I am!” Pulling back my sleeve with my pinkie, I flexed my bicep proudly. I’d never had muscles before.

  He shook his head. “I’ve seen bigger lumps in Lane’s oatmeal.”

  “What the hell!” I kicked his thigh. “Don’t give my baby lumpy oatmeal!”

  “Ow!” He laughed, which made me laugh.

  “Just because you’re all Mr. Muscles.”

  “Muscles need fuel. You need to eat right.” He grinned, and for a moment, we only slid vegetables onto bamboo spears. I didn’t feel like old arguments.

  “So what’s going on?” He finished his and moved around me to wash his hands then leaned ag
ainst the counter still holding the towel. “You usually plan your weekend visits on Monday, not Friday night. Want to talk about it?”

  I finished my kebob and reached for the towel to clean my hands. In the time it took to do so, my eyes went from his light brown hair touched with the faintest caramel highlights to his smoky hazel eyes. Patrick was so good-looking. Why didn’t I feel more for him?

  “I dunno.” I hesitated, feeling just the slightest bit nervous. “I haven’t been myself lately. I feel like something’s wrong with me.”

  “Like what? You sick?”

  “No,” I said, crossing my arms. Now I wished I hadn’t brought it up.

  “Then what’s this about? What’s on your mind?”

  Squinting my eyes closed, I thought about the pressure in my chest, about how it was so hard to take a deep breath. I thought about Patrick and me, and why a no-good punk in a magazine captured my attention when this sunny, Captain America didn’t.

  “I feel like somehow I’m destined to make bad choices. I mean, I’ll get these opportunities, and then it’s like I run away or screw them up somehow.” Hopping down, I walked to the table, my back to him. “Like just for example, why didn’t I stay with you? You were sweet to me, and we had great chemistry. Why did I run?”

  He walked over to where I stood, and I turned to study his thoughtful face. “It’s probably because you knew, deep down inside, that if you’d stayed with me, you’d be in jail right now.”

  “Dammit, Patrick!” I punched him hard—left jab to the shoulder.

  “Shit,” he laughed, rubbing the spot. “You really are bulking up! What was that for?”

  “I thought you were being serious.” My brows pinched. “I need you to be serious for once.”

  “I’m serious as a fuckin’ heart attack. If we’d stayed together, with how we both are… you’d have ended up sticking a fork in my head.”

  Even though he was joking, I knew he was right, and it felt like a huge weight off my shoulders. “It’s only because you’re ridiculously sunny all the time. If you weren’t so obnoxiously good-looking, we wouldn’t even have Lane.”

  “I guess that’s a compliment.” He leaned back against the table and gave me The Smile. Panty-melter. “So why the sudden attack of self-doubt?”

  “I don’t know.” Rubbing my stomach, I started to pace. “Back then, I was so afraid of being disloyal to Blake’s memory. I felt like if I even acknowledged a man was attractive, I was somehow cheating on him. When I slept with you, I thought I’d die for hurting him like that.”

  “I remember.” His voice grew quiet. “But Ken, Blake is dead.”

  “I know!” Pushing my hands into the sides of my hair, my mind went to last night and my experience with the box. “Yesterday I was looking at his things—at our things—and it was the first time I could do it without breaking down. I’m scared of what that means, Patrick.”

  He exhaled deeply, and for a few minutes he only stood there, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like what? That you could have feelings for someone else?”

  “No.” I was still figuring it out myself, but I pushed on. “I think, maybe I’m scared… like even if I don’t feel the pain anymore, I still remember how bad it hurt to lose him. I can’t go through that again.”

  “Why would you have to?”

  My chin dropped, and a curtain of dark purple slid over my cheek. Strong arms were around me at once, pulling me against his chest. His chin rested on my head as he stroked my back. “Love is a risk, babe.”

  “If I’d stayed with you it would’ve been easy. I was safe, and we had Lane…”

  “Now you’re fucking with your own head. You don’t like safe, and you don’t love me.”

  I stepped away from him, embarrassed. “I do…” Just not like that.

  “Look at me.” He caught my shoulders, and I lifted my chin. “You made the right call. You knew it then, and you know it now. We would’ve killed each other.”

  I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. He was right.

  “What’s worse is I wouldn’t have Elaine, and she is perfect for me. Just like there’s someone out there perfect for you.”

  “If I don’t manage to screw it all up.”

  “Don’t.” His voice was calm, a direct order.

  “Don’t.” I repeated. “Just like that.”

  “Just like that. Don’t borrow trouble, and don’t go looking for it. Put one foot in front of the other and stay open to what might happen.”

  My lips pressed together as I thought about it. “And if I ruin everything again?”

  “You won’t ruin anything. You couldn’t. When you find him, he’ll be right in every way. No forks needed.” He caught my hand and held it. “Will you try?”

  The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I nodded. “I’ll try.”

  At that exact moment, the door burst open and a tiny, golden tornado blustered straight at me. “Mommy!”

  I dropped to a squat just as chubby arms flew around my neck, filling every part of me with roaring love and happiness.

  “Peanut!” I cried, as he hit me with such force, I sat back on my ass.

  “I couldn’t get him out of his car seat fast enough.” Elaine laughed as she put two bags on the counter. Patrick had gone to meet her, and she kissed him on the lips briefly, still talking. “He kept squealing ‘Mommy!’ like there was no tomorrow.”

  I hugged Lane tighter, kissing his little neck and burying my nose in his sweet baby scent that always soothed whatever was bothering me.

  “Mommy,” he said, patting the sides of my head, his baby blue eyes filled with wonder. “Purple.”

  “That’s right!” I stood, hauling him up with me. “Mommy’s hair is purple. You like it?”

  “I love it!” Elaine had just finished pouring him a sippy cup.

  “Mommy.” He reached for her, and she handed it to him. She was as beautiful as ever dressed in a simple white tank and jeans, her straight blonde hair hanging loose down her back.

  Patrick sidled up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist. “How long before Lane can say he has two mommies?”

  Her eyes narrowed as her elbow shot back into his stomach. “Shut up.”

  “Hot,” Patrick mouthed with a wink, but I only shook my head, hugging my little boy.

  “Wish I could get away with crazy colors at school.” Elaine was back in the kitchen, unpacking the bags.

  Lane pulled the cup away with a smack and plunged a chubby hand into my hair. “Purple,” he said again.

  “You are so smart! You know your colors.” Rubbing my nose against his, I carried him over to the table, glancing back just in time to see Patrick kissing Elaine’s neck as she put the groceries away.

  If I ever doubted staying with his daddy was the absolute best choice for Lane, seeing the two of them together always erased it. Patrick was loaded, and here he had a stable home with two people who loved each other as much as him. I was still trying to figure my shit out, and I earned just enough money to cover my bills. It was hard, but this way I could see him as often as possible, and it felt like I had a family, too.

  “Why don’t you guys go out tonight?” I called back. “I’ll stay home with Lane, and you can have a date night.”

  Patrick was saying something low to Elaine, but he stopped to yell at me. “You’ll do anything to get out of a decent meal.”

  “I’ll have my dinner with Lane.”

  He finished whatever he was saying, and her eyebrows rose before she hopped over to where I sat on the couch. “I have a better idea. Let’s have a girls’ night!”

  My brow lined, and I couldn’t help being suspicious. “I don’t know. I didn’t really bring anything for going out.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re in Wilmington. It’s completely casual. We’ll just go to one of the little bars and have some girl talk and flirt.”

  “Hey!” Patrick called from the kitchen.

  “Kenny
will flirt.” She shouted back. “Mel and I will merely judge her choices. It will be a very judgy evening.”

  Squeezing my baby closer, my initial impulse was to say no, but I caught sight of Patrick’s encouraging face. I had just promised him I’d try.

  “But I came here to see Lane.” It was a weak last attempt, and my little boy was already resting his head on my shoulder.

  “He’ll be asleep before we leave the house,” Elaine said, rubbing his back. “You’re staying in his room, right? You can snuggle with him in the morning, too.”

  With a deep exhale, I surrendered.

  Derek Alexander met us at the door dressed in a navy tee and jeans with a tiny infant perched on his shoulder. His muscles stretched his shirtsleeves, yet he was so careful with his little son—I silently acknowledged few things were sexier than the sight of a giant man cuddling a baby.

  “Hey, Elaine. Kenny.” He pulled my companion into a hug, but I hung back.

  It wasn’t only because he was ridiculously gorgeous. He was also the man Carl had gone to for help. The night I lost Blake, Carl also lost his little brother Max. It was a bar brawl, and the prosecution needed help building their case against the killers.

  As a private investigator, Derek agreed to help us pro bono, which meant free, and Carl always said it was because of Derek his brother got justice. I’d only met him once, because I wasn’t able to attend the trial. I’d pretty much fallen apart after Blake died, and it took a month before I even had the will to crawl out of bed. I’d heard the beginnings of what had happened that night and thrown up. After that, I didn’t want to know anymore—I just wanted it gone.

  Carl sort-of adopted me as a little sister. He took care of me, bringing me food and even giving me a job when I was finally able to get on my feet again. I was eternally grateful to him and to this man standing in front of us for getting me through one of the toughest times in my life.

  “Look at Dex,” Elaine cooed, taking the infant from his daddy’s arms. The dark-haired baby rooted into her neck but didn’t wake, and I watched as Derek rubbed his little back, eyes brimming with love.