Page 6 of Lawton

She loved dogs and hated seafood. She had a kid brother she called brilliant and a Polish grandma who was, in her words, a "total potty-mouth." She loved comedies and hated to cry.

And, apparently, she lied like a rug.

Through the foggy haze, I heard her tell somebody, "I'm his sister."

Thank God she wasn't, and not only because my sister's life hadn't exactly been easy. The way I felt aboutthisgirl, well, there was nothing sisterly about it.

For hours, she stayed beside me. She held my hand. She whispered soothing words and funny stories while I drifted in and out, a lot like all those doctors and nurses doing who-knows-what.

She gave them a name – not hers, and not mine. Apparently, I was now John Livingston of Maple Drive instead of Lawton Rastor, fuck-up extraordinaire. If only that were true. I might stand a chance with a girl like this.

I couldn't move, and I couldn’t talk. It had to be the drugs. Because if it was something else, I was in deeper than I knew. What would I do if I couldn’t fight? What would happen to my sister? My grandma? My sanity?

My one miracle was this girl, with her soft hands and sappy stories. As time wore on, she felt like my sole grip on reality – a better reality, without the ugliness and without the pain. When I fell into darkness, her sweet voice drifted over me again and again, like a warm blanket that kept the winter at bay.

And then, who knows when, the voice at my side changed – from feminine to masculine, no longer warm and definitely not funny. "Who's the girl?" he asked.

Shit. It was Sammy. What the hell washedoing here?

"Grab his legs," Sammy said. "Hurry. Before she comes back."

After that, everything faded to nothing. I woke in some cheap hotel room with Sammy and Trick, along with some toothless guy who might pass for a doctor if you weren't too particular about credentials and degrees.

The girl was nobody, or at least, that's what I told them – not for my sake, for hers. I had to keep her safe. Safe from them. Safe from me.

I wanted to find her, and I wanted to forget. A girl like that? What would she ever want with a guy like me? I was poor, beat-up, and headed for a crash.

But then a funny thing happened. I didn't crash, at least not the way I thought. Within a year of that beat-down, everything changed. Somebody's secret footage, starring me in one of countless underground fights, went viral in a big way, which led to a reality series, which led to a world of merchandising and event opportunities.

Five years later, I'd gone from being a messed-up nobody to a financial powerhouse. Between the global fitness centers, the line of apparel and workout equipment, and all those mixed martial events, some might say I was a busy guy.

Not bad for someone who'd just turned twenty-six.

As far as the girl, Ididlook for her. I'd paid others to look too. But she'd been a phantom of the sweetest kind. I'd had nothing to go on – not her name, not her address, and not even a decent description. because how do you describe an angel to someone who's never been to Heaven?

But now, after all this time, I'd finally found her, right here in my own neighborhood. There was only one problem. The way it looked, she belonged here. I didn't.

If I had my way, she'd be willing to forget all that. The next time she walked by, I'd be ready.

Chapter 5

Standing in my front doorway, Amber leaned around me to peer inside the house. "Oh my God," she breathed, "will you look at this place? It's absolutely amazing." She gave a playful poke to my chest and giggled. "Do you love it or what?"

Next to her, Brittney spoke up. "Of course he loves it. How could he not love it?"

I said nothing. I loved it more five minutes ago, before the doorbell rang, interrupting my work. I'd been reviewing security plans for my next mixed martial arts event. Normally, I did this at the office.

Not today. Today, I was working from home. Again.

And I knew why. It was because ofher.

But the girls in my doorwayweren'ther. They were nearly identical Barbie Dolls with blonde hair, blue eyes, and bikini bodies that they loved to show off.

Brittney was smirking. "My mom's place – no offense Lawton – is just as nice."

Brittney's mom was a bank president. I knew because Brittney had told me. A hundred times.

In my doorway, she was still yammering. "She's a bank president, you know."