Page 144 of Forgotten Comeback
I spin on my heel, getting in Inferno’s face. “So help me find him.”
“You’re in no condition to fight anyone right now,” he warns me.
“Effie cleared me,” I argue.
Inferno shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. Mike got in here.” He taps my temple. “And by the look of you, he’s still in there.”
Crossing my arms so I don’t throw a punch through the cinderblock wall, I tell my brother in a clipped tone, “He assaulted my girl; I refuse to let that go.”
“Channel that anger into winning the belt. I believe in you. John believes in you. The question is, do you believe in you?”
“Now you’re the one getting all philosophical,” I snap. “Where’s Taylor?”
“She left after your bout.”
“Why?” I say, my throat constricting.
“I’d suggest you go talk to her. She was giving freak-out ‘vibes.’”
My hands land on the top of my head before letting them fall to my side. “Yeah, alright.”
“After the championship, you can take care of business with Mike, but not before. I promise to help you, but you have to promise me?—”
“I make no promises, other than you’d better protect Taylor at the next fight, or I’ll torch this arena to the ground.”
I storm to my dressing room, my coach lying in wait. “Gavin?—”
“You can bitch at me tomorrow. I’m out.”
Grabbing my bag and keys, I hustle out the back and to my new car. Falling into the driver’s side, I put the horsepower to the test, making it home at record pace.
And dammit, this is my home.
Taylor’s car is parked out front, and I breathe for the first time since I found out that she left.
Pulling in behind her, I hustle to the private entrance and use my key, but it doesn’t work. I did take a punch that made me see little birdies, so I try it again.
It’s not my cognitive skills; the key doesn’t fit.
I hustle around to the front, but the key doesn’t fit in that lock, either.
Cursing, I ring the bell.
The light’s on in her studio, but she doesn’t answer.
My phone in hand, I send her a message.
I know you’re in there. Answer the door.
Crickets.
Has she blocked me again? Why would she do that?
Not finding anything I can use to break the window, I eventually rip the mailbox off the wall and use it to bust out the glass.
Shrugging out of my shirt, I wrap it around my fish and punch out the remaining glass shards before I step through.
“Taylor, I’m coming in,” I warn her.
