Page 39 of Strike
“How are you doubting it when you’ve never met the guy?” I retorted. “I met him all night long, you know.”
“Did he give you any indication that…You know.”
“That he might be a violent asshole? Not at first.”
Macy tilted her head to the side.
“He showed up to our last date with a split eyebrow and a black eye,” I explained, sitting across from her at the table. “He told me he’s a fighter.”
“Yeah, he was in the UFC. Ultimate Fighting. It’s a rough sport.”
“He was banned,” I replied. “He said he’s involved in illegal cage fights now. He warned me…” I shook my head. He’d wanted to remain anonymous for a reason. Was that just a story he’d told me, or was it the truth? Did he want to get back into the UFC, or did he really not want people to know about his past?
Nobody wants to listen. They just want to point fingers and blame.His words echoed in my mind with startling clarity. Something about his story bothered me. His inability to stand up for himself, his evasiveness, his blatant disregard for his own safety… Something wasn’t adding up, but it didn’t erase the fact that he’d purposely lied to me. Call me old-fashioned, but sleeping with someone actually meant something more to me than a good time.
Standing, I tapped my fingers lightly on top of the chocolate cake I’d taken out of the oven earlier. It had cooled enough for me to tip it out of the pan.
“Maybe you’re right,” Macy said. “Are you mad at me?”
Sighing, I tipped the pan upside down, and the sponge slid right out. Perfect.
“Maybe you should’ve told me first before running your mouth off to Merritt,” I said. “But I can’t stay mad at you. You know I can’t.”
“I’m really sorry. You seemed really into him.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, grabbing a knife and slicing the chocolate sponge. “I really was.”
That night, after I’d finally dragged myself to bed and my cake was complete, I started dreaming of fire again.
This time, Mark didn’t come, and I lay on the storeroom floor as flames licked at my body, searing and melting me alive.
Jerking awake with a cry, I began to sob, my hands batting at imaginary flames. My blankets were tangled, and sweat covered my body, sticking my nightie to my skin.
The light flicked on, and Macy appeared in the bedroom door. “Callie? Are you all right?” When she saw me in hysterics, she ran over, flopped onto the bed, and wrapped her arms around me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping at my tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Don’t be,” she replied, drawing back. “Did you have a dream?”
“I was on fire… I was…” I hiccuped and rubbed my palms over my arms. “He left me…”
She sighed, lost for words, and hugged me again.
“If it’s so wrong, why do I feel like shit?” I blurted, realizing I hadn’t cried once over Mark’s betrayal. I’d forced it down ever since I found out, and even more since he’d come by the shop, and still, I hadn’t let go.
“Because you cared about him,” Macy replied. “He saved your life, Callie. That’s gotta leave some kind of mark.”
“I wanted him to be the one so badly…” I muttered. “I’m tired of being alone, Mace. I’m so tired…”
“It’ll happen one day.”
“What if it doesn’t?” I argued. “What if this is as good as it gets?”
“Then it’s pretty good,” she retorted. “You’ve got your shop, your friends, and you’ve got your success. Not everyone gets to do what they love for a living. You’re lucky.”
I nodded, my heart still feeling heavy. I knew I should be happy. All of those things were great, and life had dealt me a good hand, but something was missing. I didn’t feel complete. The maw inside me yawned, and I began to ache.
I wanted Mark to be the one so badly… I had terrible taste in saviors, not to mention men in general. Just my luck.
