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JACK

FINDING FOREVER… ?

I climb out of the Mustang and fix my shirt.

More nervous now than I’ve ever been in my life, I literally shake. I literally want to vomit. I wasn’t this nervous walking into the octagon last month.

I wasn’t this nervous approaching Steph at school the first time. I wasn’t even this nervous approaching Bambie at the restaurant that first time – and while I waited in that hall for the beautiful woman to reappear, my heart raced and left my hands sweating.

Finger combing my hair, I barely stop short of spitting in my hand to smooth my too long hair back. Wearing nothing fancier than jeans and a gray shirt, and wishing for my hat as a kind of shield, I clasp a bouquet of stolen daisies in my casted hand and pocket my keys with the other.

I’m here to make this better.

I’ve finished this charade, this drama for the sake of drama. I’m ready to get my Bambie back once and for all. I gave her space, I tried to move on, but I just can’t.

I won’t.

I refuse.

Leaving my still marked car in the parking lot, I walk up the front stairs of the school I once attended.

Kids stream out like toothpaste from the tube, squealing and giggling and shoving each other in their haste to get to the weekend .

Life was so much simpler when I was in school. My biggest problems were my poor math results and finding time to study when all I wanted to do was train. Now it’s a matter of finding time to train when all I want to do is spend time with Bambie.

Walking through the double wide front doors and sidestepping rough kids, I force myself to relax the death grip shooting pains through my broken arm.

I need to cool it. I need to think clearly, because I can’t fuck this up again.

It’s ride or die time.

I walk against the stream of rushing children and peek into open classrooms. I don’t actually know which is Bambie’s. Aiden and Tina know. I probably should’ve asked them before I came.

Following the hallway of brightly decorated walls, rainbows of confetti stick to the plaster in shapes of animals and balloons and books and flowers. I feel like I’ve walked into a literal Skittles factory.

“Nope, pretty boy. You can leave.”

Spinning at the angry voice behind me, I smile at the blonde twin that works with Bambie. “Hey, Laine. I’m looking for–”

“Nope. Leave.” She folds her arms over her chest. “You’re not a parent, nor are you a student, ergo ; get the hell out of my school before I call security. You’re not allowed to hurt her anymore.”

“Laine. No.” I shuffle my feet nervously. “Just give me a minute with her. Just a min–”

Cocking her hip, she shakes her head. “You hurt her, Reilly. That’s my best friend, and I’m calling time. She doesn’t need any more.”

“If I could just see her for a second, maybe we could–”

“Nope.”

“But I love her!”

Her eyes turn soft. “You might think you do, but it’s not enough. She needs more.”

I step forward. I’m willing to get down on my knees and plead my case. “I’ll give her anything she needs, Laine. I’ll give her everything I have, everything I am. I. Love. Her.”

“She’s with my brother now.” Dead. I’m dead. “They’ve been together for a few weeks. They’re happy, Jack, so you should leave her be.”

“She… what?”

“Luc.” She runs her tongue across her teeth. “You know him, right?”

“I know him. ”

“They have a history, they grew up together. She’s with him now. If you truly loved her, you’d let her be happy.”

“She’s with him? Actually with him?”

“Yep.” So damn confident in her words, she nods and tears me apart piece by piece. Her jabs land harder than Westlin’s ever did. “I saw them together just last night. You should leave. I’m only trying to stop my friend from hurting.”

My heart lies at the bottom of my stomach, shattered and weeping and despondent. I came here to apologize to Bambie, to tell her I love her, to put everything out in the open and hope she loves me, too. But not once did I stop to think she’d no longer be available.

I’ve spent weeks obsessing over her, wondering what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, if she’s sad or glad or even hungry.

I thought for sure we could talk it out and make things better, but now she’s with someone else.

I never once considered she’d be with someone else.

I shouldn’t be surprised.

She’s beautiful and smart and funny. Luc knows what she is. Hell, he’s already had a taste. Of course he knows how amazing she is!

I thought… I hoped she might feel something for me. Even half of what I feel for her would be enough.

What I feel doesn’t even entertain the idea of someone else. There is no one else. There’s only her; in my dreams, while I’m awake, in my home, between my sheets that still sometimes smell of her. I love her so fucking much it hurts, but not nearly as much as the knowledge she’s moved on.

Done, tapping out, I turn to leave, to maybe go and sit in my car and cry the way I haven’t done in a really long time, but the sound of running children has me slowing. Stragglers that missed the initial wave of sprinting children, I move aside to allow their escape, but stop when I realize they’re not just any children.

They’re mine.

I’ll save Tina and Iz the trouble of picking them up. Stepping toward Laine on a sigh, I pass the rag-tag bunch of flowers, some that still have dirt clumped at the bottom, and nod. “You can have these. Or chuck them in the bin. Whatever. If Luc ever fucks up, if Britt’s ever single, give me a call, yeah? I’ll always be here to–”

Skidding along the hall, Evie’s piercing cry has my eyes wheeling around and the adrenaline firing through my blood. “Jack! Go! Go get Miss T! ”

“Smalls–”

“Go get Miss T. He’s hurting her!” She pushes at my back. “Go get her, Uncle Jack.”

My eyes snap up to the otherwise empty hall, then the sound of her cries echo and bounce off the walls.

I sprint toward the sound. “Call the cops! Laine! Call the cops.”

I run past door after door.

I don’t fucking know which room is hers, and there are so many, I have to check them all for fear of racing right past her. As her cries grow louder, my heart beats wilder and tears away from the wall of my chest.

Another classroom, empty, then another, empty, then another… I freeze for just the smallest second and watch him straddle her and whale on her face.

Snapping out of my disbelief with a roar, I run the twenty feet between us and tackle him with so much force, we fly at least ten feet away from Bambie’s lifeless body.

I straddle him just like he did her and send my fists raining down on his manic face. My broken arm goes unfelt, my cast shatters with each strike.

His nose explodes, and blood and gunk fly like shrapnel in an active battlefield. But I don’t stop. His eye socket crumbles inward and his teeth move and bite into my knuckles.

But I won’t stop.

His jaw shatters with a satisfying crunch, and his head slumps to the side and lies limp.

And still, I don’t stop.

My fist – like the fight name I’ve adopted – jackhammers, slamming into his face over and over and over again until, flying through the air a second time, someone tackles me the way I tackled Brad.

Like a wild animal caught in a trap, I thrash and fight for my freedom. Desperate to finish what I started, desperate to avenge Britt, I throw my fists at my captor’s face, and when I make contact and snap his head around, he lets out an almighty roar and works to pin me.

I won’t be pinned. I won’t be stopped.

The whoosh of my thrumming blood deafens me, but the panicked cries of a woman – a woman I barely know – brings me back to focus.

Snapping my gaze toward the cries, my heart stops at the sight of Laine kneeling over Brittany, as she runs her hands over Britt’s hair, her face, her shoulder and chest .

Looking back to my still grappling captor – Alex – I push him off as easily as if he weighed nothing more than a dog. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Help!” Laine cries into the phone crushed between her shoulder and ear. “We need help!”