Chapter 1
Carter, present day.
“Tap out.”
“Fuck you,” I spit as I jab an elbow into Gio’s stomach. Using the momentum, I flip us over so I can stand. I fucking love it when we spar. Gio used to be a professional fighter, so I jump on any chance I get to train with him.
He smiles around his mouthpiece. “Had enough?”
I drop my hands. “Yeah, I wanna hit the bag and get some cardio in.”
We bump knuckles, and I lift my chin at Damien as he steps into the ring to spar next.
Heading over to the wall of punching bags, I spit my mouthpiece out on top of my duffel and then readjust my wraps. The gym at Royal Ace Security where I work is one big ass open room. A couple of TVs play ESPN all day, and it contains everything we need from free weights to speed bags.
Some kind of cushiony black shit covers the floor, and the walls are a dark gray. Along the wall of free weights are floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and I’m able to glance over to check my form.
I get into a rhythm, absentmindedly listening to the sports highlights.
“Hey, man,” Royce greets as he walks into the gym.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were staying home for another couple of weeks.” He and his girl, Paisley, just had a baby, who’s the cutest damn kid I’ve ever seen.
“Paisley kicked me out.” He laughs. “Said I was hovering too much.”
I drop my hands and shake my arms. “You? Overbearing?”
He flips me off. “Fuck off.”
“How is the baby?”
“Anderson’s great. Perfect little dude.”
“That’s good. I’m happy for you guys.”
“This is one for the books, ladies and gentlemen. The last man to ride in these conditions was the world record holder, California’s own Carter Cane. Since the tragic death of his longtime girlfriend, model and actress Zoe Sanders, he’s retired.” I can’t help but stare at the TV; the picture flashes even brighter as the camera zooms in on the waves. My blood pressure rises, and my hand shakes. “Shut that fucking off!”
“Shit.” Royce drops his bag.
“Nearly six years after the unfortunate accident and fracture of his leg, fans have yet to see the world-famous surfer in action. Calls were left unansw—”
The TV goes black, and the gym is dead silent. My jaw is so tight it won’t allow any air out of my mouth, and my nostrils flare as I try to fill my lungs. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This can’t happen now. I can’t lose it in front of the guys.
I’ve done a fantastic job of only losing my shit in private. Like this morning before I came in, I got pissed at myself for waking up with a hangover, and instead of tossing the empty beer bottles in the trash, I decided to throw one across the room. It collided with my TV, which was the perfect way to start my day.
Now this.
I haven’t had it thrown in my face like this in such a blatant way in a while. I try to keep it under control. I really try.
But then it hits me. I squeeze my eyes shut, but that makes it worse because the accident replays in my mind. Her terrified scream and the way she begged me to help her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking help her. I couldn’t do anything.
Fury tears through me so fast my blood catches fire and I turn around and pound the shit out of the first bag my eyes fall on. My hands fly, so fast and so goddamned angry. I hit the bag wrong, and a searing pain slices up my arm. Good. Fucking let it.
It’s the least I deserve.
A hand settles on my shoulder, and I swing out, clipping Gio on his chin, but he doesn’t even budge. “Settle the fuck down.”
“Fuck you,” I scream at him.
“Carter, man.” Royce approaches me from the other side, and I can see what they’re doing.
Closing in on me. Well, fuck this shit. Everything’s been closing in on me for six goddamned years. “Back up.”
“Chill out.”
I clench my fists. “Back the hell up!” With every word I growl, my foot collides with the bench.
“That make you feel better?”
“Fuck you.”
Instead of backing away, Gio steps closer. I swing out with my left, but he easily avoids the sloppy attempt at a hit. “Better?”
I don’t answer him, but before I can get another shot in, he jabs me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me.
My back collides with the wall and I gasp as I try to catch my breath. “Dammit,” I grunt under my breath.
“You done, asshole?”
“Yeah.” I wheeze. “I’m done.”
Without another word, he walks away, and I tip my head back. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Six years. Six years and it still hits me like it was yesterday.
I try to tell myself I won’t relive that day.
Not again.
Not anymore.
But every single time, it’s a lie.
Billie
Never come back.
Suffocation consumes me, and I claw at my throat as I shoot up in bed, gasping for air. My legs are shaking, my neck is sweating, and my heart bangs around in my chest like a pinball. I swing my legs over the bed and put my feet on the fuzzy purple rug.
Never come back.
Those were the last words my mom said to me. When she came to my room that night and woke me from a dead sleep with a fresh cut to her already scabbed lip and another bruise on her battered face, I knew something was wrong. Worse than normal, at least.
That was three years ago.
I didn’t make anything of myself. No, that’s not true. I’m definitely in a better position than I was before I left. I’m just lonely. I had my mom back then, and I have nobody now. I’m not a punching bag to my father, but because I can’t get an audition, I feel like just as much of a failure as he used to make me feel.
I’ve worked multiple jobs to pay the bills until I found the one that paid well enough for me to survive. I work my ass off and spend too much money to live in a safe neighborhood, but it’s the only luxury I afford myself. After growing up in a trailer with holes in the floor and broken windows, I promised myself I’d never live like that again.
The only other promise I ever made myself was that I would go back and get my mom. I haven’t broken that one yet; I just haven’t had the opportunity or the resources. And if I’m being honest, I’m too afraid that I’m going to go there and discover things are worse than when I left or that she’s dead. Or when I get down there, he’ll be waiting for me, and I won’t be able to leave. I don’t want to… No, I can’t get stuck there again.
To the end of the earth, I love my mother, but I can’t live like she did.
I get up and walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water, then lean on the counter. I keep a picture I have of my mom and me in a macaroni frame I made her in kindergarten that she packed in my suitcase the night I left. I glance at the photo, and my heart bottoms out. Every time I look at that happy memory, I want to cry.
But it also gives me the strength I need to continue fighting. I might not have made anything of myself yet, but I will. And when I get enough courage, I’m going back to get my mom.
After another hour of tossing and turning, I climb out of bed to get ready for the day. The tightness in my chest from my nightmare lingers, so after I’ve eaten breakfast, I decide to go for a walk before I take a shower.
I’ve just closed and locked my door when a loud crash comes from the apartment across from mine. Glass definitely breaks; I know the sound all too well. Yelling or screaming usually followed in my world, but right now, there’s nothing but silence, so I continue down the hall and to the stairs so I can get some fresh air and hope it’ll help clear my head before I have to go into work for the evening.
* * *
“Can I get you anything else to drink, sir?”
The elderly man turns in his seat, his already wrinkled face getting even deeper lines when he smiles. “No, thank you, dear. We’re finished here.”
“Okay. I’ll just leave the bill. You can pay whenever you’re ready, no—”
He slides something into my hand, and when I make a fist, the familiar material tells me it’s cash. “You keep the change, you hear?”
“Thank you, sir. Have a wonderful evening.”
He pats my hand, and I offer a smile before I walk to the register and finish his transaction. “Seriously?” I whisper under my breath.
“Seriously, what?” Noah, one of the other servers, asks.
“Nothing.”
“Girl, you’ve worked here for almost two years now. You can talk to us every once in a while.”
As I lean on the wall, I sigh, blowing a stray hair from my face. “I talk to you guys.”
“Billie. You don’t.”
“I’m not trying to be rude. I just want to do a good job, and Paxton is always watching. I need this job.”
He rolls his sky blue eyes. “We know. You’re quiet, but we all think you’re sweet as hell. Now, tell me, what’s wrong?”
Glancing over his shoulder, I make sure nobody is watching me. “Old man Spooner left me like seven percent tonight.”
Noah winces. “Damn, girl. That sucks. At least you won’t have him for a few more weeks.”
Everyone knows he is the worst tipper ever, which is ironic. He owns like six banks or something, but somehow can’t calculate a twenty percent tip. I certainly don’t want handouts, but he could stand to throw an extra ten in with his hundred-dollar bill. The hostess rotates which section he’s in when he comes in every Thursday night so we all get to share in his cheapness.
“Yeah, I know. And I don’t mind, really. It just confuses me that nobody in his family has said anything to him about it.”
“It is strange. Hey, you live by that bar, right?”
“Which one?”
“The House one.”
A muscle in my neck twitches, and my head tilts to the side. “How do you know that?”
“Savannah gave you a ride one night. Anyway. We were thinking of heading there after work tonight. Do you want to come with us?”
His question holds more weight than I’m sure he realizes. Of course, I want to, but since I won’t make as much money as I normally do tonight, I can’t. It’s work, then home. I go grocery shopping and to the farmers market on my days off, but that’s about it because that’s all I have money for. I’ll hit up the occasional thrift shop or outlet store, but since I wear a uniform of black tights, a black skirt, and a white button-down shirt to work, I don’t need much along the lines of clothes.
And as far as friends, I’ll go to the occasional movie with a couple of the girls I work with, but I’m pretty content to be on my own when I’m not at work. At least I used to be. But lately, I’ve really been feeling lonely.
And because of that, I should take him up on the offer. I will next time.
“Thank you for the invite, but I’m gonna have to pass.”
“Aww, come on.” He sticks his bottom lip out and then flashes me a smile, his bright white teeth shining against his dark skin. “Please.”
“If you give me more notice, I will try to go next time. But… it needs to be on a night when they have half off cover.”
He waves me off. “I’ll pay for your cover.”
“No,” I insist. “I can pay my own way. I just need to plan is all.”
“You’re a confusing girl, Billie Jean.”
“I’m actually pretty simple, Noah Riley.”
He shakes his head as he walks backward. “You’re the opposite of simple, girl. But that’s not a bad thing.”
I giggle as he almost runs into a busboy, and then I continue with the rest of my tables. Before long, the shift is over, and my feet tell me I’ve been here longer than needed. Our boss makes the girls wear at least a little bit of a heel, so I yank mine off and set them in my metal locker. Dropping my favorite white tennis shoes on the tiled floor of the employee lounge, I slide them on. Then I take my time walking across the paisley pattern on the dark blue carpet as I leave through the side entrance.
“Whoa.” I stumble and stick my arms out, prepared to cushion my fall, when I’m yanked back up and pulled into a strong chest. What should jostle me sends a jolt of warmth through my skin, the hairs on the back of my neck rising when his breath falls against them. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I step back, tucking some hair behind my ears that flew out of place. The light by the steel door I just pushed through shines a muted white, and the streetlight flickers, casting shadows against the trees blowing in the breeze. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
I take another step back when I realize no one else is on the sidewalk at all besides the two of us. The parking lot is across the street in the front of the building, and the employees all park in the back. But the bus stop is just down the street, so I come out this way.
The man smiles, deepening the baby crow’s feet around his green eyes. He’s wearing a black suit that fits his muscular chest and long legs perfectly. “No worries,” he says, running his long fingers through slightly shaggy dark blond hair.
I shuffle a little on my feet, embarrassed for not paying attention to where I was going. It figures I would act like a klutz around a cute guy. “Well, have a good evening.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s late and dark, and you’re alone.”
I can’t think of a response, so I just blink at the man. Yeah, he’s attractive—very attractive—but I’m not going to tell him that I’m single and alone and about to get on a bus to go home to an empty apartment.
He chuckles; the deep rumble echoing around us makes me even warmer. “That came out all wrong. I just want to make sure you’re getting to where you need to go safe. That’s all.”
It takes me a second to comprehend what he’s saying because I’m kind of distracted by the way his voice glides through the night. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Thank you.”
He tilts his head, but the door opens and a couple of men walk out, one of whom I recognize from Savannah’s section tonight. I think he’s a senator or something. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.” I have to be. It’s my only option.
“I… I don’t feel right leaving you here alone.”
His words are so beautiful, they almost hurt.
“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, though.”
He looks over at the curb where the other men are waiting, takes a step away from me, then turns and gets into a black SUV.
Why I stand here and watch him, I don’t know. But as they pass in the vehicle, I can feel his eyes on me even though the windows are tinted so dark they’re impossible to see through.
The squeak of brakes from the bus jolts me into action, and I rush down the block and get to the stop just as the bus comes to a halt. Janice is the usual driver for this time of night, and she sure is grumpy. I’ve given up trying to talk to her at all.
Instead, I take my seat in the front and lean my head on the glass as we drive through the city. I don’t even watch the people as we pass anymore. I look at the sky, watching the lights twinkle from streetlights or signage, and miss being able to see the actual stars.
When we get to my stop, just in front of my building, I still say goodbye to her as I step out. Walking briskly to my apartment, I take the stairs to the third floor. Once inside, I close the door, flip the two locks, and then toss my purse on the kitchen counter.
I’m proud of how cute my apartment is. It makes me miss being home with the braided kitchen rug and white chipped table. The one I grew up with, though, had been broken since I was eleven because my dad threw Mom into it. He ruined the wood but couldn’t take away the memories I have with my mom when she helped me work on my numbers and letters. Or taught me how to play solitaire. Or showed me how to cut up an onion without crying. Memories that will stay with me forever but remind me how badly I wish she was around now to make more with.
My fingers graze over the picture of us, and I smile at it, then flick the light off and head to bed. I roll to my side and stare at the wall, hoping that thinking about nothing will make my mind so tired I’ll sleep through the night without another nightmare.