Page 45 of Strike
“How could this be wrong?” he asked, his mouth brushing against my swollen lips. “How could it be when it feels like this?”
“Like what?” I whispered.
His eyes were hooded, his jaw tight.
“Like what?” I asked again.
“Like nothing else matters.”
We stood in the middle of my shop, tangled in each other, for a long time. I studied the flecks of black in his chestnut-colored eyes, memorized the line of his jaw, traced the curve of his cheek, and took in the last yellow tinges of the black eye he’d shown up with on our second date.
He was deeply complicated and a puzzle I might never solve, but I found myself wanting to give him a chance. One final chance.
Finally, I sighed, cupped his face in my trembling hands, and spoke the words in my heart.
“I believe you.”
18
Storm
“Come home with me,” I said, holding Callie close.
She was trembling, her eyes downcast. The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, her shop looking a lot better than the last time I’d seen it.
“I want… There are some things I need to explain about myself and…” I hated how I was lost for words, but I suppose it was meant to be this way. Fighting was tough, and even in the cage, an easy win wasn’t as satisfying as a hard-won battle.
“Mark…” She was hesitating even after she’d said she believed me.
“I just…” I swallowed hard. “The only thing that matters to me is you. Your opinion. Your feelings. I didn’t expect to leap into that fire, and least of all to find you. You could have been anyone, but you’reCallie.” I brushed my fingers through her hair and breathed in her sweet scent. “You’reCallie.”
Her entire body shuddered, and her grasp tightened. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
My heart twisted. “Then don’t.”
Her fingers uncurled from around my shirt and found mine. Grasping my good hand, she nodded toward the door. She didn’t have to ask me twice.
Outside, we walked through the streets side by side, barely touching. Something had changed between us, something I didn’t understand, and there was no telling if it was good or bad. She was willing to listen, and that was the first step. She would listen and then decide if she would leave me or stick around.
“What happened to your arm?” she asked as we turned into my street.
“It got stood on.”
“Stood on? During a fight?” She seemed outraged, but I knew the cost of fighting at The Underground. If this was the worst it dished out, then I got off lightly.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s fucked up, you know.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” I retorted.
“I’m not even going to ask why.” She turned her face away but didn’t stop walking.
Callie was not impressed by my chosen profession, but I didn’t really have a choice unless she wanted to give me a job handing out cupcakes at her shop. Imagine that. A cage fighter wearing an apron.
Approaching the entrance to the block of apartments, I let us into the communal area and led her upstairs. I was number five, right at the end, and for the first time since moving in, the trek down the hall felt like a million miles.
Finally, we reached the door, and I unlocked it. Inside, I flicked on the light and held the door for her, closing it once she’d stepped across the threshold. Noticing her shiver, I turned on the central heating.
