Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 26

Her face is free of makeup and a little sunburnt and reveals so much more than her beauty, something heavy. It's the softness in her eyes, the transparency of a day without guards up, and the vulnerability of being herself rather than Trix the Vegas stripper. It's as if I'm seeing her.

I pick up her hand and press her knuckles to my lips. "I needed you like this today."

Her mouth tilts in a shy smile.

"Feels good to get you away from Vegas. Here you're Bea, the greatest big sister ever." My thumb traces circles against her wrist. "Not Trix, the . . ." Stripper.

Her smile falls. "Yeah."

I don't mean to upset her, but after these last few days, having her in my bed in Vegas, spending time with her at my beach, and watching her with her family, I don't want to give her back. The thought of her dancing for strangers, using a body that I've watched comfort her young siblings, a body I've claimed for myself, it's enough to make me want to pop the eyes from every man who steps foot inside Zeus's.

I place one last lingering kiss against her hand. "It's getting late. I don't want your parents to worry."

"Sucks, but . . ." She nods and shifts, waking the sleeping kids sprawled on her lap. "Wake up, guys." She runs her fingers through their hair. "Time to go."

Life returns to their faces and their limbs as they yawn and stretch. After a few protests, they get up, and we pack up our day-long campsite and head to the parking lot.

"Whose truck is this?" Trix brings over a stack of towels she's folded and places them on the tailgate while I slide the surfboards into the bed.

"It's mine." I shove the towels in the back and take the ice chest from Isaac to load it up. "Drove it in high school."

She runs her hands along the faded blue paint. "I can see you in this. It's"-she shrugs one shoulder-"you."

I slam closed the tailgate. "Thanks. I think?" I nod toward the big white van that is now filled with sandy kids. "Hate to see you go, but I don't want you on the road too late."

"Okay." She knots her hands together and chews her lip.

I stare at her, licking my lips, so desperate to kiss her but knowing I can't, not with the six sets of eyes that are peering out of the van windows. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." She throws her arms around my neck in a tight hug, her lips finding my neck where she drops a kiss, hidden from prying eyes. "Text me later."

"Drive safe," I say into her hair, making sure to draw in one long breath before releasing her. Trix always smells amazing, but her scent mixed with salt water and suntan oil is f.u.c.king euphoric.

My eyes devour her legs as she climbs into the van. Twenty-four hours and those'll be wrapped around my hips. Hang in there, man. I adjust my board shorts to accommodate the raging hard-on that seemed to rise up instantly.

Trix waves at me from the window before reversing out of her spot.

I stand in the lot, watching until the red glow of her tail lights disappears around the corner.

"Things are going to change when we get back to Vegas, Surfer Girl. I just hope you're ready for it."

Twenty-four.

Trix My dad's birthday party is in full swing. A yard full of kids and a few dozen friends from church all huddle around, laughing and eating cake. Mason showed up about an hour ago and was nearly tackled by my brothers and sisters the second his feet hit the front porch. Even Isaac seemed eager to get Mason outside to throw the football. With a quick hug and kiss to my forehead, he indulged my siblings.

It's selfish, but part of me is ready to get back to Vegas so I can have him all to myself again. I plop down on an old swing my dad hung from a tree back when he brought Svetlana and me home for the first time. My fingers absently trace the letters "S&B" that we carved into the edge after they brought Isaac home from Thailand. We'd never had anything that was just ours before and wanted our new brother to know it was off limits.

What we didn't expect was how much we'd love him. We mothered that poor kid every chance we got and continued with every other child that my parents welcomed into our family.

Mason runs across the yard, the football tucked under his arm, as at least ten kids descend and wrap around his legs. He drags them along, taking big wide slow steps while they squeal and giggle themselves silly.

"Lana, what should I do?" I whisper to no one, but hope she can hear me. "Everything is so confusing."

Before, finding Lana's killer was all that mattered. Now, my plight seems completely pointless.

It's only been weeks since I met Mason, but he's fallen right into my life and clicked into place like a missing puzzle piece.

Lana is gone. Nothing done on this earth is going to bring her any peace. It's me. I'm the one who's been searching for something that I thought I'd find in my quest for vengeance.

But now, that empty place in my heart, the hole I've been so desperate to fill after Lana died, doesn't feel so empty anymore.

Maybe my dad was right, and I should just leave Lana's case unsolved and allow G.o.d to sort out the rest.

"That was a sick pa.s.s!" Isaac high-fives Mason, both men laughing as the team of little football players tries to take out their legs.

"He's a really good guy, Svetlana." I breathe in deep, taking in the cool mountain air and desperately searching for my sister's presence. "Tell me it's okay to move on. That I'm not letting you down." I cast my gaze toward the sun and close my eyes, needing her guidance now more than ever. "Please . . . tell me what to do." A sign, something. Anything.

A twig snaps and my eyes dart open.

Mason.

His hand extends toward me. "You ready?"

I blink up, taking in his peaceful smile, soft eyes, and the sun shining behind all that blond hair that makes him look like an angel. "Is it time?" To move on?

"Yeah, baby," he whispers.

I suck in a shaky breath and grip the big wooden seat. "I think I am." I brush my fingers along our carved initials. I'm scared.

The warmth of his hand slides behind my neck, coaxing me off the swing and into the solid strength of his chest. "I know it's hard to say good-bye."

He has no idea.

I sniff back tears that threaten to spill and simply nod.

"Bea, we gotta go or you'll be late," Isaac calls.

Mason looks over at Isaac, and whatever my brother reads in Mason's expression softens his face and he nods. "I'll load up your stuff." He walks away, leaving me in the capable arms of my boyfriend.

"Do you want to stay for a few more days?" His hands sift through my hair, and the caress soothes my aching heart.

"No, I'm ready to go back to Vegas."

"Want to talk about what's got you so upset?"

I shake my head and peek up at him. The truth is I'm not upset as much as I'm feeling the weight of defeat. His blue eyes, heavy with concern and worry, fix on mine.

"I'm okay, just"-I pick at the neck of his tee-"ready to make some changes when we get back."

Like giving up looking for my sister's killer and starting fresh, fighting for a life of my own. With him. If he'll have me.

His eyebrows pop. "Changes? Mind sharing?"

"I want to quit dancing. I don't know . . ." I shrug. "Maybe take some cla.s.ses, pick up more hours at the Youth Center. I think Sylvia-"

The wind rushes from my lungs as Mason lifts me into his arms and spins me around. "Yes!"

I wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders, giggling into his neck as he yelps in excitement before dropping me back to my feet. "Are you serious?"

"Safe to say you approve?"

"Approve? Fuc-er-heck yeah! Are you kidding?" His gaze sweeps along my face, my eyes, cheeks, settling on my lips. "I want to kiss you so badly right now," he whispers. "Your dad would probably shoot me; all these church people would, for sure, think we were going to h.e.l.l."

I tilt to the side and see the yard full of people, and after Mason's outburst, most of them have their eyes on us. "Mase? I don't really care what they think." Pushing up on my toes, I drag my lips along his, and he flinches slightly before his eyelids close and he sinks into a sweet and tender kiss.

It's open-lipped, but no tongue and filled with more meaning than any s.e.xual encounter we've had before. It's a promise, a vow that whatever these changes bring he'll be there.

He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes still closed. "Let me take you home, Surfer Girl."

The tenderness in his voice makes my chest feel like it could explode. I drag in a shaky breath. "Yes, please."

Twenty-five.

Mason "Good morning, gentlemen!" I hold my arms out wide, gloved hands, ready to train.

Blake jerks to a stop and glares at me. "Baywatch? How long have you been here?"

He and Jonah, who just entered the training center, stroll over to the octagon where I've been waiting since seven a.m. Waiting and training.

"Couple of hours." I roll my head around, keeping my muscles loose. "Getting an early start." I squint at Blake. "Hey, did you just wake up?"

"f.u.c.k off." He turns to head toward the locker room. "I'll be right back to kick your morning-glory pansy a.s.s."

I cup my mouth. "Take your time!"

"Eat a d.i.c.k!" He gives me the finger over his shoulder.

"Man, that guy is grumpy in the morning." I shake my head, unable to wipe the s.h.i.t-eating grin off my face.

Coming off an epic few days with Trix, I'm a d.a.m.n circus clown. Our plane got in just in time for us to grab a quick dinner and head to my place. We showered together and stayed naked as long as we could, that is, until she had to head home and start her plan for making changes. I was so pumped up with excitement over where our relationship is heading I came straight to work to train.

She's not going to strip anymore. Even thinking the words makes me f.u.c.kin' giddy.

"Alright, Baywatch." Jonah crosses his arms over his chest, his eyebrows dropped low as he a.s.sesses my practically dancing a.s.s. "What gives?"

"Can't a guy just start the week out with a smile?"

"Sure he can, but there's always a reason and nine and a half times out of ten that reason is a woman."

I try to hide what I'm sure looks like a ridiculously goofy smile.

"f.u.c.k." He shakes his head. "Trix did a number on your a.s.s, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're wearing it like skin, brother."

"She's pretty amazing."

"Who?" Blake jogs up, wearing his training gear and slipping on his gloves. "The stripper?"

"Ex-stripper." And that f.u.c.king grin is back. "She's quitting."

Blake's eyebrows jump. "No s.h.i.t? Good for you, man. Must have some kind of King Kong d.i.c.k to get her to give up all that cash for you. Those girls make bank."

My smile falls a little. "She'll get another job. It's no big deal." We move to the heavy bags on the far end of the training center. "But yeah, I do have a King Kong d.i.c.k, so that helps."

Blake cringes. "Little slow on the uptake there, Baywatch." He leans against the wall, studying me. "I'm serious though. She gives up that kind of green; you better be worth it."

Am I worth it? Maybe not, but we're worth it.

I'll make d.a.m.n sure we're worth it.

He pulls an arm across his chest, stretching. "Can she afford her house, all her expenses, if she quits?"

"Um . . ." s.h.i.t, I didn't really consider that.

"You sure pushing her to quit stripping without figuring this s.h.i.t out first is the smartest thing to do?"

Adios good mood. f.u.c.ker.

"It's her call. I didn't ask her to quit."

"Right." Blake shakes his head. "I'm sure you have zero to do with her quitting." He practically rolls his eyes.

"So, you're saying she should just keep getting naked for d.i.c.kheads like you while I just sit on the couch and wait for her to come home and wash the smell of a dozen different men's colognes from her body, my body."