Beautifully Broken: If You Leave Part 12

There's no logical reason that I can think of that she would prefer that guy over me.

I pointedly ignore the one thing that it might be... the thing that I'm hoping like h.e.l.l it's not. She might be totally turned off by me because of what she saw that night in Chicago. She might have seen too much and now she thinks I'm crazy. Or a p.u.s.s.y.

Neither of those things is good but the problem is I have no idea what she's thinking. She wants me. I can tell. But she's icy as h.e.l.l too.

I shake my head.

I'm gonna have to stop trying to figure women out, because they make no f.u.c.king sense. I'm definitely not going to sit here stewing over it, but I have nothing left to do. So I do the only thing that makes sense to me.

I head out to find a gym. Lifting weights always burns restless energy. Besides, I can't stop working out just because I'm no longer in the army.

It doesn't take me long to find the gym since Angel Bay only has one. That actually doesn't surprise me in a town this small. In fact, I'm surprised that it has one at all.

I'm signed up as a member and headed back to the weight room within a few minutes. This gym is old-school, nothing fancy. The walls are white and covered with inspirational posters.

NO PAIN, NO GAIN.

YOU MISS 100% OF THE SHOTS YOU DON'T TAKE.

CLEAR YOUR MIND OF "CAN'T."

THE ONLY WAY TO FINISH IS TO START.

All true, all cliche.

But whatever. Cliche or not, this is the kind of place I like. There's no coffee bar, lounge area or girls dressed to the nines. This is a gym meant for people to work out in. Those fancy places in the city make me want to punch a hole in the wall. I don't go to the gym to pick women up. I go to work out.

I do fifty curls with the twenty-pound weight before switching to the other arm. As I breathe out through my mouth, slowly and evenly, I notice Madison's brother-in-law across the room on the hip sled. Seeing someone familiar shouldn't surprise me since this town is so f.u.c.king small. I can't go anywhere without b.u.mping into someone.

He catches my gaze and after a few minutes makes his way over to me, holding out a sweaty hand.

"I'm Pax Tate. My wife Mila introduced herself to you the other night. I'm not as social as she is, so I didn't interrupt your dinner." The way he's grinning, it's clear Madison's sister has this guy wrapped around her finger.

I chuckle at the memory. "It was no problem. I get the feeling that Angel Bay doesn't get many new people. She was curious. And thanks for stepping up with Jared. I didn't get a chance to say anything to you that night."

Pax rolls his eyes. "Mila thought you might need some backup. I was pretty sure you had it under control. And yeah, she's curious. More about you and her sister, but whatever. Women." He rolls his eyes again. "I could use a spotter for the bench. You got a second?"

"Sure." I get up and follow him to the bench, waiting until he is situated on his back before lifting the three-hundred-pound-laden bar off the rungs and handing it to him.

"Why is Mila fascinated with Madison and me?" I ask as I count his reps. He's strong and in shape. He does fifteen with no problem before setting the bar back into the holder.

"Because Maddy doesn't date. You're the first person she's shown any interest in for a long time. And trust me, Mila is fascinated with that."

"By 'showing interest,' do you mean that she absolutely refused to even look at me the other day in the restaurant? Until she b.i.t.c.hed at me for being too rough with Jared, that is."

Pax looks at me as we switch places and he hands me the bar. As I bench the weight, I explain how we met and how she definitely didn't want anyone to hear about it at the Hill, especially her sister. He bursts out laughing.

"That does sound like Madison. She wouldn't want to give Mila any ammunition. Was she mad that you dared to show up at her restaurant or what?"

I nod, hooking the bar into the rungs again, then pausing to catch my breath. "Apparently."

"Typical Madison," Pax chuckles. "But deep down she's sweet, once you get past her outer b.i.t.c.hiness. I heard her b.i.t.c.h at you for the Jared thing. I probably shouldn't say anything, but she's got hang-ups with that s.h.i.t so don't take it personally. Mila and Madison's dad used to knock their mom around so she's got a thing about any kind of violence at all."

I stare at him for a minute, thinking back to the other night at the Hill when she told Jacey that her dad had a temper like Jared's.

"s.h.i.t," I mutter aloud. "Seriously?"

Pax nods. "Seriously."

I think of Madison, of how she's so confident and strong, and I can't picture her involved in an abusive relationship of any sort.

"Did their dad hit them, or just their mom?"

Pax shakes his head as we switch places so he can do his second set. "He never laid a hand on Mila. But I can't say for sure about Maddy. It's not exactly something we sit down and talk about."

Pax stops talking as he runs out of breath while he's benching. I let this conversation go. It's not my business and I can see that he's not that comfortable talking about it anyway.

When we switch places for my second set, Pax changes the subject.

"So are you sticking around for a while? What do you do?"

I explain my situation, why I'm here and the fledgling company I co-own. Pax seems particularly interested in DefenseTech.

"Advanced body armor? That's bada.s.s... makes me think of Batman. You know, my family's company is looking to diversify and invest in something new. This honestly sounds like something I might be interested in. I've got a tight schedule this week, but let's hook up and talk next week."

I'm beyond surprised that an opportunity like this would fall into my lap, but I try not to act like it. When I tell Brand, he's going to s.h.i.t. I keep my face calm.

"Sure, that sounds great. I'll give you a call later in the week to set it up."

Pax nods. "Remind me to give you my card before you go."

We switch places and I do my second set.

"What exactly was going on the other night with Jared? I forgot to ask. He's an a.s.shat, by the way."

"I agree," I tell him. "Apparently he's been giving my little sister a hard time because she broke up with him. After the other night, I figured I'd scared him into leaving her alone. But Jacey told me this morning that he was hara.s.sing her all night last night."

Pax thinks about that for a minute, almost hesitantly.

"He's probably too stupid to be scared, to be honest. He's got more att.i.tude than brains. I know that for a fact. I stomped him into the ground when he went after Mila, but he wouldn't stay down. I think it's his pride, to be honest. If someone attacks his pride, he gets crazy. And in his eyes, your sister attacked his pride by breaking up with him. And then you embarra.s.sed him at the Hill."

I nod. I'm sure he's right.

Pax continues. "So in all honesty, you might want to watch your back. He's an unbalanced dumba.s.s. But he's a predictable unbalanced dumba.s.s. He goes to the Bear's Den downtown every day for lunch-and then he hangs out there pretty much every night. I don't suppose you're in the mood for a hamburger, are you?"

I stare at him in surprise at the abrupt change of topic. "Uh, I guess. I could always eat a burger."

Pax grins. "Good. Because the Bear's Den makes the best burgers in town."

I grin back, handing the bar to him.

"Oh. In that case, I'm starving."

We hit the showers and as we're getting dressed, I say, "So I heard you broke Jared's hand that night."

Pax grins. "I should've broken both of them," he says, yanking a gray T-shirt down over his heavily muscled torso. "That p.r.i.c.k seriously needs to learn a lesson."

"Agreed," I tell him as I grab my bag. I follow him out to his car, a mint-condition 1968 black Dodge Charger.

"Sweet car," I tell him in appreciation. "I have a new Camaro, but I tell ya, I've always loved these cla.s.sics."

Pax looks up and grins proudly. "Thanks. I've had it for years. It takes a lot of maintenance and breaks down more often than it runs, but I f.u.c.king love these pipes. Get in. I'll drive."

The Bear's Den is almost close enough to walk to, but it's a h.e.l.l of a lot more fun in the Charger. Pax revs the engine as we drive downtown, turning the heads of people on the sidewalk. He doesn't even look at them as he pulls into a parking spot and we head into the darkened bar. I glance around, but don't spot anyone vaguely familiar.

"He's not here yet," Pax confirms. "But let's order our food and wait. Trust me, he'll be here. That f.u.c.king loser practically lives here."

We each order a burger and a beer, sitting down in a back booth. I watch the door as we talk. Pax asks me questions about being a Ranger and I answer them as best I can.

"It was something I always knew I wanted to do," I tell him. "From the time I was a kid."

"Then why did you retire so young?" Pax asks curiously.

It's a question that I ought to be used to because everyone asks it. I ought to have a canned answer ready, but I don't. So each time someone asks, it hits me in the gut and I flounder for a second, trying to decide what to say.

"People don't realize what it's really like over there," I tell him. "It's f.u.c.king brutal. I can handle brutal, but one night, s.h.i.t got really f.u.c.king real and a good friend died in the process. Brand and I came out of it alive, but it totally messed us up."

"Dude." Pax looks at me seriously and somewhat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I respect the h.e.l.l out of what you did as a Ranger. I know you probably don't want to talk about it and G.o.d knows I hate to talk about s.h.i.t, but I'm always up for a beer if you want one."

I smile and gulp my beer. "Thanks. I hate to talk about s.h.i.t too. I mean, what the h.e.l.l's the point? People can't understand when they haven't lived through something like that."

Pax stares at me again, then looks down at his hand. He's got a jagged scar on his thumb in the shape of an X and I stare at it too, wondering about its significance.

"You'd be surprised at what people understand."

He takes another swig of his beer, then looks at the door in satisfaction.

"Look who just walked in."

I glance up to find Jared swaggering into the bar. His clothes are sweaty and dirty and it's obvious that he's on his lunch break.

He orders, then makes his way to the bathroom, presumably to wash up. Pax jerks his head in that direction as he gets up.

"I'll watch the door," he says quietly. "Unless you need me?"

I chuckle. "No, I've got it."

I follow Pax to the bathroom. When we get there, he stands to the side and lets me pa.s.s. The bartender meets my gaze for just a moment, but then looks away. He's not going to interfere.

An almost euphoric feeling comes over me as I enter the bathroom and look around. The rush of adrenaline pulsing through me right now is an old welcome friend. I haven't felt like this since I left the Rangers.

I wait patiently behind him while the dumba.s.s uses the urinal and then washes his hands. When he turns around at the sink, I bury my fingers in his neck and slam him hard against the bathroom stall.

"What the f.u.c.k?" he manages to say, his face registering surprise. And fear. Good, because he should fear me.

At his words I clench my hand tighter into his trachea, hard enough that he can no longer speak, hard enough that I can feel the cartilage rings in his windpipe. He struggles to swallow against the pads of my fingers and I smile.

"Quit talking," I tell him. "And listen. I thought I told you to leave my sister alone. If you keep hara.s.sing her, I will f.u.c.k you up. If I see you lurking around her house, parked on our street or anywhere within a mile radius of her, I will rip your spine out and feed it to you, bone by bone. You must be too stupid to understand English, because I already told you once. This is twice. I won't tell you a third time. I don't like dumba.s.ses. I especially don't like dumba.s.ses who f.u.c.k with my sister."

I jerk my knee up into his gut and he grunts, his eyes shooting daggers at me.

"I'm not f.u.c.king around. Leave her alone. Got it?"

He nods and I release him. He immediately rubs at his neck and glares at me again.

"Your sister is a lying wh.o.r.e," he snarls. "I haven't seen her since the other night."

Without missing a beat, I slam his face into the lip of the sink. As I yank him back up by the hair, his mouth gushes stringy red saliva.

"You're a f.u.c.king p.r.i.c.k," he rasps, spitting out a b.l.o.o.d.y tooth.

I nod. "I know. But I warned you what would happen if you called my sister a wh.o.r.e again. Leave her the f.u.c.k alone. This is the last time I tell you."

I turn to leave, and Jared lunges at me from behind. I easily grab his arm and throw him over my head and into the wall. He slides to the ground, heaving as he glares up at me.

"Don't f.u.c.k with me again," I tell him. "And don't f.u.c.k with Jacey."

"f.u.c.k you," he mutters, but I ignore it.

I walk out and leave him on the bathroom floor.

Pax looks at me. "Taken care of?"

I nod. "For now. If he tries anything else, I'll f.u.c.k him up for real. He might be a slow learner, but he's gotta learn sometime."

Pax shakes his head. "What a dumba.s.s. Did he come at you? I heard the crash."

"Yep. From behind."

Pax shakes his head again.

"f.u.c.king p.u.s.s.y," he mutters. "He's a waste of oxygen."

He focuses on his phone, then looks at me. "Mila just texted me. Her art shop is just down the street. She locked her keys in her car. Do you mind if we stop there on the way back to your car?"

"Of course not," I tell him. We toss some bills down to cover our lunches and walk back out into the sunshine. Mila's shop is literally fifty paces from the Bear's Den and her face lights up when we walk in and she sees her husband.

She's standing on a stepladder wearing a paint smock, hanging a painting on a thin steel cord. Pax immediately grumbles and heads for her, holding her legs to steady her.