She pointed at me. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that? Get another hobby and stop stalking innocent girls. Fucking creep.”

I liked everything about this woman, from her gorgeous body to her filthy mouth.

“The offer stands until midnight, Goldie.”

“You can take your offer and shove it up your dick hole. See ya, psycho.” She took off.

I hadn’t expected anything less from her.

Chapter Twenty Two

My present…

For the last week, I’d worked my body ragged, getting ready for the opening of Justice. After I returned to the community center, I assessed what needed to be done and was surprised to see that in my absence, the girls had stepped up. The center was ready to open to the public, and the only thing that needed a final once-over was the Haze Room. Naturally, the girls left that to me.

If I was going to spend most of my time in the room teaching, I wanted it organized to my liking. I moved bleachers and bins around and added more equipment, along with chalkboards and more mats.

It was nine in the morning, and the center was set to open in half an hour. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I was still reeling from my demons, trying to overcome the ache in my chest I’d been living for years. Could a damaged soul try to save another damaged soul? Was that even possible?

“Looks good,” Jett said as he walked in and surveyed my changes. “I’m proud of you, Kace.”

“For what?” I asked, wondering what he could possibly be proud of. This center had been his idea. We used his money to create a safe haven. He’d been the mastermind, and I was the follower.

“For putting your reservations on hold and helping develop this center with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“The girls did a lot.”

“With your guidance,” Jett added. “Don’t discredit what you were able to accomplish here. Accept the compliment and be proud of yourself.”

It pained me, but I nodded and accepted Jett’s commendation. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome.” Jett smiled brightly. “I’ve got to admit, you’ve changed in the past week. I haven’t spoken to you much, but does this new you have to do with the apology you gave us the other day? Goldie is still dazed by it. She thinks she changed you with her dick talk.”

“Of course she does,” I shook my head. “She’s a piece of work, you know that?”

“Don’t have to tell me that. So what’s with the change?”

I shrugged and stared at the punching bags, wondering if I could get a quick workout in before the center opened.

“Blane said something to me that made sense. I was the one who made the mistake of punching Marshall. I am the one who decided to punish myself. I shouldn’t punish the people around me. You’ve all been accepting of me and my faults. It’s about time I treated you all the way you deserve to be treated.”

“Does that mean you’re going to start kissing me goodbye?” Jett asked with a grin.

“Both cheeks,” I joked, pointing to my face.

“The only way I like it.” Jett paused and put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “I know you’re dealing with a lot, Kace, but I need to tell you, your friendship over the years has been the best thing in my life. Well, until Goldie.”

“She does have the pussy.”

“Watch it,” Jett smirked. “Seriously though, the guilt you live with on a daily basis might not ever go away, and I understand that, but thank you for keeping my best friend around. I don’t know what I would do without you, Kace. I don’t say it enough, but you’re my fucking brother, and I would do anything for you.”

“I know.”

We exchanged a knowing look that spoke volumes about our friendship. No matter what came our way, we would always have each other’s backs. We might not have been brothers by blood, but we sure as hell were brothers by soul.

“Mind if I get a couple of quick hits in before we open up?”

“Go ahead,” Jett replied while eyeing the punching bags. “Break it in. This is your room now, Kace. Make it worth it.”

With pressed lips, I nodded and shook Jett’s hand. He pulled me into a brief hug then briskly walked away. It wasn’t Jett’s style to show much emotion, not even toward Goldie, but the woman had softened him, and it was a big day. I would take his exchange and hold it close to me. If anything, I would die knowing my past crime wouldn’t deny me a true friendship.

Without taping my hands, I quickly slipped on the boxing gloves I now kept stored in the Haze Room and went to the closest bag. I circled it once and bounced on my toes, looking for the perfect spot to strike. With a quick jab of my right hand, I punched the bag, causing it to swing.

The feel of my fist connecting with the sand bag enthralled me. Excitement coursed through my veins as I circled, stopped, and threw a couple of jabs at it. I bobbed to the left, bobbed to the right, and threw an uppercut straight into the bag, my signature move.

Heavy concentration settled over me as everything around me turned black. Like a couple, I danced with the bag, letting the swing from my punches turn into a rhythmic tango of sweaty athleticism. In a few short minutes, a sheen of sweat skimmed my skin just as my arms started to loosen up, allowing my punches to strike at full force.

Right hook, left hook, uppercut. 

Upper cut, upper cut, bob to the left, jab with the right. 

Move, Kace, move. 

From a distance I heard a crowd roar with every punch I made. My coach called, guiding me from the corner. Blood pounded in my head, and my punches became heavier. I focused and was instantly in the zone.

The smell of my opponent’s sweat came roaring back, the feel of my feet bouncing around the ring attacked my senses, and then and there, I felt the euphoric pleasure of being in the spotlight with my gloves taped to my wrists and a sorry-ass sucker bobbing in front of me.

Right hook, left jab, right uppercut, bob, right uppercut. 

Cheers erupted, and clapping echoed in my mind, a clapping that seemed all too real.

“You look good.”

I was mid-jab when I stopped, my vision cleared, and the lights from the room fogged my vision. Even though I had a hard time adjusting, I knew that voice like it was a constant record playing in my head. “What are you doing here, Lyla?”

“Wanted to wish you good luck on the opening,” she answered nonchalantly.

I stepped away so the punching bag was no longer in my way and glanced at the woman who’d burned herself into my soul.

Fuck me, was she gorgeous.

Her long hair was curled in light waves that hung over her shoulders. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that were cuffed right above her ankle boots. But it was her top that was really grabbing my attention. She was wearing a loose-fitting tank top that opened at the sides and dipped low in the front, giving me an eyeful of her navy blue bra that showcased her breasts to perfection. Her skin glittered under the lights, and I wondered if she thought of me often like I did of her.

I was weak around her; my brain scrambled whenever she was near. She crippled me, mind, body, and fucking soul.

“Thanks,” I replied, really not knowing what else to say. I shed my boxing gloves and tossed them to the ground. I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “You’re looking good yourself.” I nodded at her outfit.

Good didn’t even come close to describing how she actually looked.

“Thanks.” Her hands rested in her pockets and she looked around the room. When she was done scanning the room, she took a deep breath and took it upon herself to step closer to me.

“What are you doing, Lyla?” I asked, wondering why she kept coming back to me even though I treated her terribly every time we were together.

“It’s hard to get you out of my system, Kace. It’s hard to just let go.”