Page 50 of The Fractured

“It’s something you have to do. It’s not like I haven’t been around a gun before. I used to see Dad’s gun all the time growing up…” She tried for a smile, but the usual light in her eyes wasn’t there.

“If you get uncomfortable, tell me. Please.”

“I will.” When I challenged that with a slight lift of my brow, she unraveled her arms and took my hand in hers. “I promise. Now, can we talk about something else?”

I sighed and let myself relax a little. With my hand still in hers, my eyes went there instead as I smoothed my thumb along her delicate knuckles. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Well, you have your first fight at Castello di Vetro this Friday.”

“Ah-huh.”

“Are you nervous?”

I half smiled. “To be honest, I kinda forgot about it for a second. All this other shit has been a little distracting… Are you nervous?”

She huffed a laugh. “A little.”

My smile grew more sympathetic as I gently squeezed her hand. “It’s nothin’ new to me. I know what I’m doin’.”

She began to study my hands too. Her eyes lingered on the scars on my knuckles, where the word Game Over was etched into my skin. It was one of my older tattoos. The fine linesof each letter, paired with years of split knuckles and scarring, made it fade faster over time.

“I know you know what you’re doing, but the visuals from the last time you fought are still vivid. Like they’re burned into my memory…”

Last time, when I was drugged by my opponent Murphy, fighting for Antonio in the basement beneath The Den. Murphy had switched the painkillers from Lily’s old medicine cabinet. I could still see the horrified look on her face as she watched me get beaten to a bloody pulp. The drugs, concussion, and deep-rooted habit of pushing people away to protect them caused me to make the dumbest decision of my life that night — breaking up with Lily.

I had been so caught up recently with mending the break I caused between us, I hadn’t considered how the fight itself affected Lily. She witnessed something horrible happen to someone she cared about. And I was about to do it again. Except this time she wouldn’t be watching, but wondering if I was coming home.

“I also think this is the longest I’ve seen you without bruises,” she continued softly as she traced her fingertips lightly across my forehead, brushing aside the strands of black hair hanging to my eyes.

I wouldn’t be able to stop the fights or back out. Promises were all I had.

“I’ll do my best not to get any bruises this time.” I caught her wrist as she lowered her hand again and pressed a kiss to the heel of her palm, smiling easily as I looked at her. “And then when I come home, you can inspect my entire body to make sure.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she blushed, unmasking a smile of her own.

Chapter 17

Seb

The sun sat directly overhead, warming me through my denim jacket as I lay out the next row of roof tiles. Steadily working from one side of the house to the other, I didn’t mind the slow pace. It was careful, basic work that lulled me into a rhythm my mind could focus on.

At least until a bright orange leaf flitted across the rooftop to my right. The same color as Kira’s hair.

A smile itched at my lips as I moved on, laying another tile with my gloved hands as I bobbed my head to the music coming through my retro headphones.Uptown Girl.A song I loved that also reminded me of her. It took me every ounce of self-control not to blurt out the lyrics in front of the rest of the roof tiling crew working on this Homecrest house.

I tapped my foot instead, peeling off my jacket as the temperature climbed higher with the tiles absorbing all that sun’s heat.

“Seb!” The voice was just loud enough to cut through the music.

I planted my feet, removed my headphones, and pivoted at the waist, looking down over the edge of the roof at my boss, Charlie, as he held his phone up and pointed at the screen.

“Your sister is on the phone!”

It wasn’t completely unusual for Anita to call me during the day, but it was weird that she called my boss.

She was a busy stay-at-home mom of two kids and ran a very new salon business from the living room of her house. For her to call was usually for something important and never for a chat. But with my phone still at the repair shop since the day I dropped it in a puddle, receiving calls from anyone was difficult.

The concerned look on my boss’s face, as I approached him after jumping the last few rungs off the ladder, added to my worry about the call.