Flawed Heart

I enter a locker style room, where the three men are all talking amongst themselves. When they hear the sounds of the club flow in, they all turn and look in my direction. Max’s eyes find me first and I give a weak, pathetic smile. His eyes flash with anger and he orders the men out with a grunted command. When they’re gone, he immediately spits angry words at me. “What the fuck are you doing here, Anabelle?”

Ouch.

His use of my full name hurts, because it’s something he’s never called me. It’s always Ana, or Belle, or Blue Belle. Never Anabelle. I cross my arms and look at my feet, not sure how to answer without making things worse. I have so much I want to express to him, but I don’t know how to form the words.

“I wanted to talk to you after the other night,” I say.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

I take a deep breath to cam myself. “We have a daughter, Max, and for her sake we need to do this, don’t you think?”

He crosses his big arms. “Oh, you think it’s acceptable now? You think you can just barge in and demand that I work this out for the sake of her, when you’ve never even fucking told me about her?”

“And I made a mistake.” I try so hard to keep my calm. “I’m not saying I didn’t, but we can’t keep . . .”

“Keep what? Dancing around the truth? You haven’t wanted to fucking speak to me, but now you expect me to just drop it all and listen to you? It doesn’t work like that. I’m not giving you a fucking thing until I’m ready to give it.”

“Jesus, Max,” I cry. “I said I was wrong, I can admit that, but this fucking game is just child’s play. I thought you were better than that.”

He stalks towards me, getting in my face. “You wouldn’t know me, Anabelle, because you haven’t been in my life for five years. Now get out of here, or I’ll have you thrown out.”

“No,” I say, crossing my arms. “Not until you listen to me.”

“If that’s the way you want it.”

He reaches into his pants to pull out his phone. I take a step towards him in protest, but the door swings open and I’m stopped in my tracks. My eyes flick towards the gorgeous, busty blonde that comes in. She doesn’t seem at all fazed that I’m standing in front of Max. No, she just sidles right over and cries out, “There you are, baby. I’ve been calling you.”

I flinch.

That burns.

God, it hurts more than I could have ever imagined.

“I’m busy,” he spits at her, his eyes still holding mine.

I turn away. I can’t stand in here and listen to this woman treat Max as if he’s part of her life. I can’t because I don’t want to even think about the fact that she’s been in his bed. Pain grips my chest as I rush towards the door, and the worst thing about it, the thing that hurts the most . . .

Max doesn’t stop me.

I find myself leaning against the wall, staring at the fighting ring. I want to go, I want to just turn around and leave, but I can’t move my eyes from the ring where they’ve just called Max’s name. He’s going to fight. I don’t want to see that, but I can’t make myself look away. My eyes are glued to the space where he’s going to be fighting in a matter of minutes.

The crowd starts getting wilder as the door opens and Max comes out. He’s wearing only a pair of light exercise shorts and nothing else. His fists are bound and he looks like a wild animal, baring his teeth, panting with rage. It’s as if he wound himself up before he came in here. Maybe I wound him up before he came in here, and right now he’s acting out of pure rage.

I clasp my hands together and lean forward as the opponent is called to the stage. It’s a man named Raide. I watch in horror and fascination as he walks out. Holy shit. He’s bigger than Max, and that’s saying something, because Max is a big man. This man, he’s like a real life Hercules. He’s tall, muscled as all hell, and has a similar shade of dark hair that goes down and curls up just near his neck.

Fear bubbles in my chest as the two of them circle each other, both looking deadly and terrifying. When the whistle blows, both men continue circling each other—neither one of them diving for the other. They’re both cunning, and smart, and waiting for the precise moment to launch at the other person.

It’s Max that takes the first swing, effectively hitting Raide right between the eyes. It takes Raide a moment to gather himself, and he looks dazed for a split second. That’s all Max needs; he drives a fist into Raide’s stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. The crowd goes wild, roaring and stomping their feet. I shift farther to the left, where a little hall is positioned and is filled with women watching the fight. I find a spot and keep my eye on Max, grateful for a little more quiet.

I made the assumption that Raide wasn’t an exceptional fighter, because he seemed to be taking quite the beating from Max, but I would be wrong. Raide manages to gather himself and drives a fist up into Max’s ribs as he straightens from his doubled over position. Max takes a wobbly step backwards but manages to stop himself from going over. Raide takes the chance and slams his elbow into Max’s nose. A horrifying split echoes through the room and blood pours from the open wound.

My stomach turns.

Tears burn under my eyelids, and I want to vomit.

It doesn’t stop Max. He continues throwing punches and hitting Raide with a force that’s so full of rage it’s hard to turn your eyes away. The problem is Raide gives it back, equally as hard and deadly. The two are a never-ending pit, both as strong and determined as the other. I look down at my shaking hands and try to control my breathing, but it’s ragged.

“How hot is Max?” the girl beside me says to her friend.

“Oh my God, I know. I love watching him fight, but more, I love watching him fuck after a fight. He’s an animal.”

My tears flow harder and it hurts, God dammit, it hurts.

“That guy with him is smoking, too. But no one beats Max.”

“You’re right. Max is a legend, but it’s only because he fights out of broken emotion and not just rage.”

What the fuck is she talking about? I turn and give her a quick glance. She’s a tall, gorgeous brunette. She’s Max’s type, through and through. If he wasn’t with me, I always picked him with a woman who looks like her.

“Oh, because you know, Tam,” her friends scoffs.

“I do know. I was here the night he had that massive breakdown.”

Breakdown? I shuffle closer, still keeping my eyes on the ring where Max and Raide are fighting and blood is pouring, and around it the crowd is going wild.

“I know Max,” the girl says. “I’ve seen him at his worst.”

“I heard about the breakdown,” her friend says. “But I didn’t see it. What happened?”

“It was like five years ago, just after he started managing the club. He was married then, remember?”

“Oh yeah, to that uppity bitch. I can’t even remember her name. She never came here.”

My heart pinches, because they’re right—I never came here. When Max took over the club, I chose to stay away. It’s why I didn’t even know he was creating a fighting ring. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me, but I assume it was because I was happy not knowing. It wasn’t long after that that he changed. Does this girl know why?