“Seriously?” I snarled. “Do you seriously think you can sit up here and be safe from people like that? Are you that fucking stupid?”
I regretted the word immediately, but I couldn’t take it back.
Open mouth, insert entire leg. Throw a hipbone and maybe an arm in there, too.
“Is that really what you think of me?”
“Fuck…no, of course not,” I grumbled as I tried to backpedal, “but when you say shit like that…well, it’s just not how it works. They can do whatever they want. That’s kind of the point. Besides, one of them has already been here.”
“What do you mean? Who’s been here?”
Ah shit. That wasn’t supposed to come out.
I tried to brush it off, but she wasn’t having any of that. I finally told her about the other day when I had the feeling someone had been there. Seeing the fear in her eyes centered me, calmed me, and I remembered how much focus I was going to have to maintain for any of this to come out well in the end.
If I lost focus, I was going to lose her.
“I don’t know who,” I told her, “but considering what Landon said, any doubts I had are gone. It could have been anyone from Franks’ group or even one of the other tournament players from the other mob organizations.”
“You really mean it,” Raine said. She wrapped her arms around herself and curled up into the corner of the couch as if that would somehow protect her from what was going on. “You’re really going to do this.”
I shoved myself off the couch and onto the floor. I knelt in front of her and placed my hands over her thighs. I hated seeing her so frightened, and though I needed her to understand there wasn’t a choice, I also needed her to know she was safe as long as she was with me and I followed every order they gave me.
“I have to do it,” I said for the hundredth time. “I don’t want to, baby—I have to. Nothing fucking matters more to me than you, and I’m not risking you.”
Her eyes grew wider as she stared at me.
“We could run away,” she suggested.
I didn’t have to respond. I could tell she didn’t believe it even as she said it. She was grasping—trying to find something to hold on to, something I might not have considered already, but there was nothing. I shook my head slowly.
“There’s nowhere to run.”
“There has to be another way.”
“There’s no other way, baby. I have to keep you safe, and if that means I have to fight, then I’m going to fight. I’ve done it plenty of times before. It’ll be simple.”
“Wait until you actually complete the task before you evaluate its simplicity,” Raine muttered.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Something I heard from a professor.” She wouldn’t look at me, and strangely enough, I knew why.
Raine had never lied to me before, not about anything. Still, I knew she was covering something up. I rose up on my knees to look her straight in the face.
“Where did you really hear it?” I questioned.
Raine bit down on her lip and fiddled with her fingers before answering.
“A group meeting,” she admitted.
“What kind of group?”
With a tightened jaw, she finally looked into my eyes.
“It’s a support group for people living with alcoholics,” she said. “I don’t have a study group on Tuesday nights; I go to that group instead.”
She’d been telling me she was at a study group every week for the last couple of months and had apparently been lying to me about it the whole time. The revelation had taken me aback to the point where I didn’t know what to think, let alone respond.
What had she heard at this group? Was this organization trying to help people get away from people like me or how to live with us?
Pressure built up inside of me again.
“So, what?” I asked. “They tell you how to deal with people like me? Help you get away from me?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, they sometimes talk about that, but that’s not why I went. I just thought they could help me understand you better.”
“Did it help?”
“Honestly, no,” she said. “I was hoping that it would, but it really hasn’t. It’s mostly people trying to one-up each other on who has had the roughest life. There were a few helpful things, and some really nice people, but no. Dealing with you is rather…unique.”
I let out a short laugh.
“I bet. You mean I’m a bigger asshole than the other alcoholics?”
“No,” she said, “you’ve got a better reason for it.”
I thought about that for a minute. Maybe I did have a good reason, and maybe I didn’t. Considering all the crazy shit in my past, she could probably top a big-ass cake with my stories, except she couldn’t tell anything to anyone.
She did realize that, didn’t she?
“You…you didn’t actually tell anyone…” I trailed off.
“No,” Raine confirmed, “of course not.”
Thank fucking God.
As I thought about it, I realized what a shit position I put her in. At least those other people had a place where they could vent—a place to explain what was happening with their lives, but Raine had nothing. She couldn’t tell people about me at all, which meant she had no one to confide in. Lindsay didn’t even know about all the shit in the past. Sure, she knew what had been revealed on television, but that iceberg could take out a fleet of Titanics.
I’m such a shit.
I stared at her as she went on.
“Knowing your reasons doesn’t mean I condone what you did,” Raine said. “I’m still mad about you getting drunk. I understand, though. I’m kind of wanting a drink myself right now.”
“I know,” I said with a nod. I was actually a little relieved to be back on the topic of drinking, considering everything else that still had to be said. “It’s not like I’m happy about it or anything—I feel like a total shithead. I don’t know what else to say about it. I fucked up. I won’t do it again. I can’t do it again.”
“Why not?”
My chest tightened.
“You’ll leave me,” I said. I felt pressure behind my eyes to go along with the tightness inside my chest. “I could tell when I saw you last night. If…if you did that, well, I’d still fight, but I’d probably lose. There wouldn’t be a fucking point to winning.”
“What about your son?”
I thought about my words for a second before responding, but all the revelations I had at the beach were still clear in my mind.
“It wouldn’t matter anymore,” I admitted. “I already knew he was out there. I already knew he was in that family. Without you, nothing else would matter to me anymore, not even him.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” she said quietly. “You should care about him.”
“I do,” I said. “Fuck, he’s the main reason I got drunk. I haven’t even seen a picture or anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. That and the whole tournament thing…I just couldn’t deal with it all.”
“And now you can?”
“No,” I admitted. I tried to compose myself again. “But when I saw your face last night…shit.”
I could feel myself putting up shields, trying to protect that inner core deep inside of me that knew I should let her go; she’d be better off. This whole situation was further proof being around me was dangerous and ultimately not in her best interest. I’d said it many times, and though she assured me over and over that I was worthy, it was still easy to forget.
Focus.
“I know I can’t do that again,” I said. “Fuck, I thought you were going to leave. I was so fucking sure of it.”
The pressure that had been building throughout the conversation reached a threshold, and I lost it. I launched myself at her, no longer able to tolerate any distance between us. Raine gasped as I grabbed her and pulled her against me.