Page 26 of Between Regrets and Promises

Begging me to fix her.

I pump her chest, breathe into her mouth, and pray for a miracle.

Why, Emma? Why?

Everything fades to black, and my eyes pop open at the blaring sound of my phone alarm. Reaching over, I turn it off and wipe the sweat off my forehead and neck.

Adream. Another fucking dream.

Rather, anightmare.

They’ve been more frequent over the past couple of months. In April, Brandon died in a tragic motorcycle accident, and it rocked us all. Hunter and Lennon are leaning on each other to grieve, but it’s brought up memories from my past that I’ve tried to keep locked away. Memories I can’t handle remembering.

Memories from four years ago that changed my life forever.

The image of her lying helplessly on the bed has continued to haunt me for years.

Brandon was one of my best friends and losing him has put me back into that dark place I’ve tried so hard to avoid. I can’t afford to emotionally spiral out of control again, knowing my dad will be right there to put me in my place, so I do the only thing I can to relieve the stress and pain.

I kick my trainer’s ass in boxing.

Waking up early means I can work out before going into the office, so I grab my duffle bag and drive to the gym with my nightmare and Brandon still lingering in my thoughts.

It doesn’t feel real. I’m still waiting for him to walk in the door and dare me to do a keg stand. He was so in love with Lennon, and unfortunately, I know how she feels and what she’s going through. Hunter, too.

All three of them were roommates, but Hunter and him were damn close. He’s being strong for Lennon’s sake. I’ve seen how he acted around her before, but ever since the accident, he’s done a complete one-eighty and will do anything for her. I suspect he’s had feelings for her, but knowing Hunter, he’d never act on them. He’s not that kind of guy, but he’ll sacrificeeverything, even himself, to take care of her for Brandon’s sake. That’s how he is. And to make matters harder, Lennon found out she was pregnant shortly after he died.

Everything is a damn mess right now.

I graduated with my master’s degree and wrapped up my internship at the city morgue last month, and had I been working the night Brandon died, his body would’ve been brought in before I had word of the accident. Knowing that pierces my gut because even after getting used to being around dead bodies, seeing his would’ve fucked me up worse.

This fucking head of mine. I wish I could turn it off and clear out the trauma that’s made me the man I am today. The one who’s a constant failure in my dad’s eyes, the one who can’t do relationships, and the one who numbs the pain by hitting someone.

I’m all worked up as soon as I get to the mat, which Tyler recognizes. He thinks it makes me better, but he doesn’t realize how much pain I harbor, pain that allows me to punch the bag the way I do. After I do my reps, he wraps up his own hands and taunts me, knowing it won’t take much to set me off. He taps my right cheek, then my left, pushes my shoulders a bit, and tells me to hit him.

He knows I won’thurthim, but we fight to win. Once I’m in that ring, I give it my all just as he does. His job is to make me better by strengthening my moves and critiquing my techniques. Tyler’s at least five years older than I am and has been boxing for over a decade. I’d consider him a friend if I didn’t need to keep our relationship at a professional level. Getting too close to people only gives them permission to let you down, and I’ve had enough of that to last a fucking lifetime.

“That’s all you’ve got, Holt?” he mocks when he misses me, and I sucker punch him in the ribs. He barely winces although it was a decent hit. “My baby sister hits harder than you.”

Grinding my teeth, I narrow my eyes into slits with my hands up. “Oh yeah? She legal?” I swing and miss when he steps out of my reach.

“Fuck off.” Tyler goes for my jaw, but I duck and punch his other rib.

“I bet I could corrupt her. Give her a damn good time. Whaddya say? Give me her number.” I smirk, knowing my words are distracting him, so when I punch him right in the gut, he nearly falls back into the ropes.

“Motherfucker, that was a low blow.” He grimaces, pushing himself back up. “She’s too good for you.”

I shrug, letting his dig slide right off. And because I’m a glutton for punishment today, I keep punching and swinging. “Bet she gives good head.”

Tyler pushes me back, nearly making me trip over my own feet until I’m bouncing off the ropes and he’s in my face. I hold up my arms, covering my face as he lands punch after punch to my stomach.

After a half dozen jabs, I twist my body away from him and wrap my arm around his neck as my other hand decks him in the side. I manage to get him to his knees right before he takes my legs from under me. Soon, we’re both on the floor, holding each other tight and trying to throw blows.

“If your sister cuddles half as good as you do, I just might take her ass too.”

“Holt, I warned you…” he growls before kneeing me between the legs.

I groan loudly as he releases his hold on me, then stands as I lie helplessly below him. After blinking away the tears, I manage to get to my hands and knees, breathing heavily. Things haven’t gotten this heated in months.

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