Chapter Nineteen
Austin
My fists pound the heavy bag in front of me in rapid combinations. Sweat drips from my hair, stinging my eyes, but I don’t stop. My muscles are on fire, my lungs burn, and still I don’t stop.
It’s been another two weeks since Addison told me about Emi moving out. Two weeks of calling and leaving messages. Two weeks of not hearing back. Not a call. Not a text. Not a goddamn note by carrier pigeon. She froze me out, and I can’t even fucking blame her.
Maybe I should have fought for her. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered to her that I was the one who blew the whistle on what her dad was trying to manipulate her into. Maybe she just needed me to stand by her side while she went through it all. But none of that matters, because I can’t go back and change the past any more than I can get her to pick up the phone when I call.
I clench my teeth and growl in frustration as I land a fury of punches to the swinging bag hanging from the gym’s ceiling. Stopping it with my wrapped hands, I rest my forehead on it and try to catch my breath before I go another punishing round. I need to exhaust myself to the point where I only have the energy to shower and throw myself onto the bed or I’ll lay awake all night thinking about Emi and how badly I fucked up.
“Want something that hits back?”
I look over to see Roman dressed like me—sleeveless T-shirt, track pants, and tennis shoes—and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He must have come in while I was preoccupied with the bag. “Your hands aren’t wrapped.”
He gives me one of his trademark wolfish smiles. “I wasn’t talking about me.”
Addison sidles up next to him in a pair of spandex shorts, sports bra, and pink fingerless fighting gloves. She gives me a saucy wink and little wave. “Hey, tiger.”
“Addie,” I say with a nod in greeting. “You learning to fight now?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Just for workout purposes.”
Roman narrows his eyes. “And knowing-how-to-take-out-assholes purposes.”
“That too.” She taps Roman’s bicep. “He thinks every man out there is trying to put his paws on me.”
“Baby, have you seen you?”
“This is why I love you.”
She stretches up to kiss him, but I look away. Normally, I find my friends’ PDA endearing—I’m sincerely happy for all four of them—but right now it’s too much like salt in my open wound. I turn and start pounding my fists into the bag again.
A soft hand touches my back and I freeze. “Emi?” Before I can get my irrational brain under control, I spin on my heel.
Jane offers me an apologetic smile. “Hi, honey. You know I’m here if you want to talk, right?”
Chance comes up behind her, resting a hand on her hip as though he’s seconding the offer. Jane is a psychologist, and nothing against the profession, but this isn’t exactly the kind of problem that can be solved by lying on a couch and spilling my feelings. Still, she’s only trying to help, and I love her like I do all my friends.
“I appreciate it, Janey, but me and the heavy bag are working things out just fine for right now.” I look at all four of the people who are dressed to work out but appear to have no interest in actually breaking a sweat. “Is this an intervention or something? I promise, I can quit the bag any time I want.”
My joke lands flat without my usual smile and light tone, but I can’t muster up the energy to pretend nothing’s wrong. Because everything is wrong without Emi in my life.
Chance takes point as usual. “What’s going on with you and Emi?”
“Nothing. That’s my problem. She won’t take my calls, doesn’t return my texts.” I can feel my blood pressure rising again just thinking about it. “How can I begin to try to fix this if she won’t even hear me out?” With a growl of frustration, I hit the bag with a right cross that vibrates all the way up to my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Austin,” Addison says. “I didn’t think she’d hold out this long. And as much as I want to play matchmaker—because we all know how much I rock at that gig—Janey and I promised not to tell you where she is.”
“I know, Addie, I’m not asking you to break your word. Graham won’t give me any info, either.” Suddenly tired, I drop onto the bench next to where she and Roman are standing. Bracing my elbows on my knees, I stare at my hands hanging between my legs and focus on my lungs sawing in and out with air.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Jane starts, “but she only told us we couldn’t tell him where to find her. She never told us we couldn’t bring her to him.”
My head snaps up to meet the gaze of the most innocent of us all, who just suggested a devious work-around for Emi’s stubbornness. Even Chance is looking at his girlfriend like he’s not quite sure who she is. Addie, of course, latches on with both hands, and I adore her for it.
“Oh my God, Janey, yes,” she says, grabbing up Jane’s hands, the familiar light of mischief in her eyes. “We can have a girls’ day and set the whole thing up like ‘oopsie, look where we ended up, somewhere that Austin just happens to be, and oh look at the time, we totes forgot we had to give Jane’s cat a bath and no that’s not a euphemism for her—’”
“Addie,” Jane whispers harshly while Chance and Roman chuckle behind their fists.
“Anyway, then we book it out of there, leaving the two of them to work things out and plan their wedding. Boom.”
Hope swells in my chest, but I try to keep it in check. “And what if she won’t listen to me? She seems pretty damn adamant that she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.”
“Come on, bro, get creative,” Roman says. “I thought not taking no for an answer was your thing.”
Chance smirks and wraps his arms around Jane’s waist. “Yeah, man. Sometimes the best way to handle things is to speak the language they’re used to hearing.”
Jane’s cheeks turn bright red, telling me whatever Chance is referring to must have something to do with the way he got her back after fucking things up. Both of my friends had to do some pretty epic groveling with their women. It gives me hope that I might be able to do the same thing if I can just get in the same room with Emi.
If the girls are willing to help me out, then I’m ready to bring my A game. If Emi won’t listen to what I have to say in a conventional manner, maybe she’ll respond to something more unconventional.
“Let’s do it.” I stand, already feeling better than I have in a long time. “But first, I have a dragon to slay.”