MOODY

My head is pounding, my ears are ringing, and my tongue feels like it’s two sizes too big for my mouth, but the hangover is nothing compared to the sharp pain that slices my chest when I look down at the woman in my bed.

White sheets drape over her lush curves. Blonde hair rests in gentle waves around her shoulders, across the delicate line of her back.

Isabelle Stewart. Izzy. My best friend’s sister. The friend who’s currently fighting for his life in Intensive Care because of me.

One punch. That’s all it took. One fucking punch, and the next thing I know Griffin is on the mat, eyes rolled back in his head, seizing.

I never should have agreed to the fight. Griffin’s a good fighter, but he’d been warned by several doctors that one more head injury could be fatal.

Idiot. Him. Me. Believing that we’re gods of our own mortality. What bullshit. Twenty-four years old, and he may never wake up again, because I’m a greedy son of a bitch who has no fucking control in or out of the ring.

“Moody?” Izzy stretches and blinks up at me, her blue eyes full of question and concern.

I have to turn away, because I don’t deserve the sympathy I see there, and I know that if I let her in, even an inch, I won’t be able to walk away. And that’s exactly what I have to do.

“Where are you going?”

“To the gym.” I finish buckling my belt, then lean over to pick up my discarded t-shirt. “I’ve got a fight this weekend.”

“If you want to go to the hospital later, I’ll go with you.” She sits up, watching me warily.

“No.” The word comes out harsher than I intend, and I see her wince. “Your father made it clear he doesn’t want me there.”

As clear as being shoved up against a brick wall and having his fist in my face, while threatening to put my sorry ass in prison. I let the bastard hit me, multiple times, because hell, I deserved it.

“Give him time. He’ll realize it wasn’t your fault.” The compassion in her voice tightens my chest.

I grunt, knowing she’s wrong. “Don’t you have class today or something?”

A small quiver of breath, and a slight flare of her nostrils; it’s the only indication she gives that I’ve hurt her.

I curse myself under my breath, fighting the urge to go to her, wrap my arms around her, and take the acceptance and love she so easily gives.

The stain of her innocence is still on the sheets. Fuck, if I’d known she’d still been a virgin, I never would have taken her so carelessly.

Repulsion rolls in my stomach. Not for her, but for what I’ve done.

The Destroyer. That’s what they call me in the ring, and I’ve never felt it more than now.

Everything I touch I destroy.

I’ve done asshole things before, but never to this magnitude.

The knowledge of the mistake I made the night before pounds into my brain like a bloody sledgehammer.

I’d been drunk. But it was no fucking excuse. I knew what I was doing when I let her drive me back to my place. Knew exactly how it would end. I’d told myself I deserved a few hours of relief from the pain. But it was just an excuse. I needed her. All of her.

Fuck, she was the only thing holding my shredded sanity together.

Izzy. Perfect, beautiful, innocent Izzy. I know the girl has been half in love with me for years, but I kept my distance. Not only because I knew Griffin would beat the shit out of me if I touched her, but because she’s too good for me.

It’s not just that she’s gorgeous. Hell, I’ve had my share of beautiful women. But not one of them possessed the light that Izzy illuminates. Like a beacon in the darkest pit of hell, one smile makes my chest clench and my heart miss a beat.

And she’s smart. No, not just smart – brilliant. At twenty-two, she’s already finishing up her second year of med school. And I have no doubt she’ll graduate with honors, whatever the hell that even means, but it’s something she always seems to be stressing about.

College was never an option for me even if I could’ve afforded it.

Fighting is all I know. The only thing I’m good at. My saving grace. The one thing that kept me going when life decided to kick me to the curb. My only regret is dragging Griffin into it with me.

Like Izzy, he’s got book smarts. He could have done anything he wanted. Instead, he traded a lucrative career at his father’s law firm for the adrenaline rush of the ring.

And now what does he have? A brain bleed and a forty percent chance of never opening his eyes again.

A cold shiver races down my spine.

Izzy’s watching me, her gaze full of apprehension.

“Maybe I can come over after I visit Griffin. I can give you an update and–”

“I’ll call the hospital if I want an update.”

Silence. Shit, I’m such an asshole. And I hate myself for it.

“Right.” She blinks and a single tear slips down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away.

If I was a better man I’d go to her, tell her everything will be all right. But the thing is, I know the truth. Nothing will ever be all right again. I’ve destroyed both our worlds, and the longer I stay, the more destruction I’ll leave in my wake.

She deserves so much more than the black emptiness I carry inside me.

“Okay,” she says softly, reaching for her clothes. Each movement is tortured, stiff, and I can almost hear the self-degrading thoughts going through her head.

Tell her the truth. Tell her what an asshole you really are. Tell her that her brother is in the hospital because of you. And not just because it was your fist that caused the aneurysm to burst, but because he never would have been in the ring in the first place if you didn’t need the money to pay off your fucking gambling debt.

Tell her anything to make her hate you instead of hating herself.

“I’ll go.” She slides off the bed, gathering her clothes.

“Yeah.” I rake my fingers over my face. “That’s probably for the best.”

Her sharp intake of breath is worse than a slap to the face.

Bastard. Asshole. Prick. I know I’m all those things and more. But the best thing I can do for her is let her walk away.

I pace restlessly as she finishes getting dressed and finds her purse and keys.

Gaze downcast, she moves towards the door.

“I’m sorry, Izzy.”

“Don’t be.” She turns, her hand resting on the door handle. She looks at me, and her blue eyes are full of resignation. “I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”

Her words bite, but I know she’s right. Only for the first time, I wish she was wrong, because as she walks out the door I know I’ve just let a piece of my heart leave with her.