And the Sweet (Addiction Series Book 2) (12 page)

I just laugh at him, too. “Took five minutes to take care of Brutal here. Took ten with Silas. You really think I’m afraid of a bunch of pussies?”

“You can’t take on all of us,” new guy James says like he has the right to an opinion.

“He wouldn’t be doing it on his own.”

I look over to where Marshall is still standing with a furious Cecelia by his side. He’s cracking his neck, loosening his muscles, rolling up the sleeves on his nice button-up, to reveal dark ink spiraling across his dark skin. The only guy bigger than Marshall is still swaying from our five minute match-up. None of these guys know if my guest is dangerous or not. None of them know
his
background,
his
life. For all they know, he could be the most dangerous guy here.

Though looking at Cecelia, I’d say it’s really her they should be worried about.

A few tense minutes pass, everyone sizing everyone up. And then Stretch breaks the silence. “Whatever, fuckers. Payout is ten to Delane. No fights next weekend cause of the fourth, but be ready in two weeks.”

The girls who come to watch the fights and snag themselves one of the guys disperse, doing just that. Brutal and Fife stand near me as Stretch hands over my winnings. I know they both want to say something, so I wait patiently.

It’s Fife who speaks up. “Next time, I want a go at Delane,” he tells Stretch.

“I want a rematch, too.”

First Fife is taken down by Cecelia, so how threatening can he really be? And Brutal was beaten swiftly. Neither has a shot against me and they know it. Too bad their dicks are doing the talking. I just shake my head. But it’s Stretch that comments. “You guys know how this works. One challenge a night. Especially if the challenged party loses.” We both know that’s not likely to happen, but the rules are the rules for a reason.

“Change it,” Fife tells him but still has his eyes on me. I know part of his problem right now is wounded pride. Cecelia dropped him, literally, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t look like a complete pussy. That’s not likely to change but whatever.

Stretch looks my way. For all the irritation he can cause when it comes to Celia and hitting on her occasionally, he’s smirking because he also knows what these two guys are trying to do. And he knows what I can do. “It’s up to you, Chace.”

Pocketing my money, I walk to Marshall and Celia, wrapping my arms around her raging form. She’s angry, but thankfully has kept her fury to herself. “If they both wanna get the shit kicked out of them, set it up.”

Stretch laughs. “I’ll make sure to let everyone know the price is doubled then.” He looks pointedly at Fife and Brutal. It takes some time before they both nod in agreement. Next match up, not only will I have to beat both of them, but I’ll have to fight my previously challenged match, which is against new guy James.

Seems he has something to prove too. Shame the embarrassment he’ll face once I hand him his ass.

A normal person would probably think the odds were against them; three challenges in one night. But not me. There’s no way I’m going to let some foolish pissing contest rattle me. I’ll take them both down, beat James, and once again be fighting and winning all the way to Saturday.

I’m not worried in the least bit.

TWELVE

We’re at my apartment. Marshall accepted my invitation to hang out for a little bit while I come down from my fight. Under normal circumstances, at least prior to getting back together with Cecelia, I’d have showered, more than likely jerked it so I can release the last bit of tension I’m feeling, eaten something, and then crashed. After our reunion, my idea of winding down from a match is showering the stink of the fight off of me and then being buried inside Celia until I, well, we, pass out from exhaustion.

Right now though, anger is flittering through Cecelia, and it’s so bad she’s still trembling. It’s a combination of the things they said about her, the way they are still playing the whore card about her on me, and that they are setting me up for a big fall. She knows I can handle the fights. Hell, it’s how I started out. I fought any and every one. I did have something to prove back then. I was the kid from Texas with a big fucking chip on my shoulder.

So I fought anyone I could to prove I wasn’t some punk. I won more than I ever lost. And that got me the respect to be where I am now. I haven’t lost in two years. Not since the disaster that was Hayley. And with Cecelia back firmly in my corner, I have no intention of losing again anytime soon.

Fife and Brutal though, they underestimate me. They weren’t around for the multiple matches I’d set myself up for. They don’t know how I worked my way into this underground shit. All they know is the lies they hear. The lies they create. The rumours that are whispered by jealous groupies and opponents. All they know is their ego being beaten down telling them to fix it.

“I swear to fucking God, that pussy is going to get his fucking head ripped off.” Celia is pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen table. She hasn’t sat down yet, even with me trying to pull her into my lap. And the more her anger builds, the worse her language gets.

“What’s their deal, anyhow?” That’s Marshall. He ordered us pizza, paid for it and ran out and bought beer. At least for himself. Celia and I declined having any. We’re drinking fruit punch. But he wants to know what he witnessed tonight. And it’s really one of the last things I want to talk about with him.

I give him a quick look before returning my attention to my girl. She’s stopped pacing to stare back at me. Silently, I’m asking her what she wants to do. With a sigh, she hangs her head. This really fucking sucks.

With a sigh of my own, I look toward Marshall. I really hope he doesn’t hate us – me – after I answer. “Cecelia and I moved up here after she turned eighteen and was good to leave Trinity. Her dad kicked her out before she even left rehab to be honest, so she didn’t really have any place to go. My parents don’t give two shits about me. And there was no way I was imposing on my brother. We decided we needed a change in scenery. We uh, well, Celia knew some people who…”

“The guys who sold me the heroin. They weren’t from Houston. They’d just moved there for new clientele after being run out of Chicago,” Celia interrupts and takes over. She’s not looking at me and it makes my gut twist suddenly. She’s going to say something I don’t want to hear. “I got the idea to come here because quite frankly, they wouldn’t sell to me anymore and I wanted to overdose. I wanted an out. And I know it’s stupid, horribly stupid. But I was tired. I was so very tired and didn’t want to burden anyone any longer.”

“What? Are you serious?” Marshall looks furious. More so than he did at the fight. If more than disbelief could run through my head, I’d be right there with him. But I can’t get past that feeling, that feeling of impossibility and astonishment.

“You have a good family. Your parents love you, only want the very best for you. Even your friends cared about you. I remember some of them visiting a time or two,” she keeps going. She keeps going, talking to Marshall like it’s not that big of a deal what she’s telling us. “I had nothing. My crack whore mother was dead, and my dad looked at me like I was a disgrace. I mean he
actually
told me before I left the center that he should have forced my mother to abort me like he’d initially wanted because it would have saved him the money of trying to fix me. I figured a clean break from everything would solve his problem.”

My eyes snap to her face, red and blotchy like she’s going to cry, and my heart breaks. I didn’t even know that about her. I mean I remember the things he’d said, the implications he’d tossed at her the last time she ever saw him. But the other stuff? The part about wanting to OD? Jesus fuck.

I remember questioning so off-handedly why she would want to come here, what purpose it would serve to go to Chicago.

I never knew Cecelia was looking for a way out the whole time.

I never really questioned leaving Houston. I had nothing left there. And despite the refuge my brother was offering, there wasn’t anything worthwhile sticking around for. But I’d had no idea where Cecelia had gotten Chicago from or the whys behind that choice. I wish so badly now that I had asked more.

I wish so badly I hadn’t let us use again later.

Because what if she had decided then to die?

“Is that why you didn’t want me to follow you at first?” I ask, my voice low, sad. “When we talked about it and you tried to break things off with me every time I brought up what would happen between us after we were out? You never saw a future? Is that it?”

Her shoulders sag. “Yeah. Yeah because I could see it for you. Your brother loves you. He would have taken care of you. You would have been all right. You could have gone to college, actually tried playing hockey again and being someone. But me? I literally had
nothing
. And it kinda settled my resolve to get away. Entirely.”

There’s a crack in my chest at her words. Unconsciously, I find my hand rubbing over the spot as though it’ll help. I can’t even fathom a world without Cecelia Santos in it. I followed her around rehab like a damn puppy and when we got out, I still stuck by her side. The actions I took to push her away from me will haunt me for the rest of my life. She is the only thing in this world that has ever or will ever matter to me. So to hear her say this is beyond unacceptable.

“I just wanted to belong to someone. To have someone care about me. And when the person who was supposed to stopped, I stopped hoping for it. I didn’t see you, Chace. I didn’t see who you were to me or who I was to you,” she tells me as tears break across her cheeks. “And then when that shit started with the guys, and then everything with fucking Hayley and you bailed? It was all confirmation. But by that point, I had no connections anymore. I had no source. So I just plastered a smile on my face and pretended.”

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe out. The crack is now a canyon inside my heart. “I am so fucking sorry, Celia. I am so fucking sorry for hurting you like I did. Especially to know you…that you would have…I am so sorry, baby. Please believe me.” I’m across the room pulling her to me, my arms wrapping around her form like it can fix everything.

I don’t know how much time passes of us standing, me holding her as I silently berate myself on this never-ending fuck up. Eventually though, we part, Cecelia needing to remove the attention from herself, and finish off the story. Marshall learns how I fought in secret at first, afraid of Cecelia’s reaction to it. And then once she found out, having her come watch. Because of that, everyone thought we hadn’t known one another as long as we have.

Marshall finds out how, because we never revealed our real relationship to anyone at the fights, stupidly keeping us a secret that it was assumed Celia was free game. It didn’t matter that she’d leave with me. The guys just assumed she left with the winner, and I was always a winner. As a result of that, they got it in their heads they could start talking to her like they do. Propositioning her, trying to touch on her. Speaking taunts to me about what they say has gone on between themselves and her. I didn’t really bother stopping it And she encouraged some of it.

I tell Marshall how those taunts only served to make me fight harder. How seeing her flirt with them built my fury to the point where losing was never an option. With deep regret, I tell him how Hayley Roberts entered the picture, a bored little rich girl with a love for manipulation. And how I fucking fell for it and broke Cecelia’s heart.

Marshall learns how we found out about Hayley’s manipulation from her own smug mouth and how Cecelia nearly killed her in retribution, leaving her more vegetable than human. He seems very impressed by that, though not surprised. Though I suppose given her reaction to the events of tonight, it’s not really that shocking. Lastly, he learns how it took two years for me to realise the woman I love more than life itself was not the lies and rumours spread about her from everyone. To wake up finally and see the truth instead of what everyone wanted me to believe.

“So, you guys have only really been back together for a few weeks now, then. Publicly especially.” He isn’t asking a question. It’s an observation. And it’s the truth. “It really is no wonder they’re acting like this. To them, Cecelia is public property. Open game. Her planting a claim, and on you, the one who fucks them up each night, it’s gotta screw up their egos big time.”

“I guess,” I answer. It’s messed up if true. To look at her like something they can take whenever they please. To use her like they want because I kick their ass. There is something seriously wrong with them.

“Are you really going to fight both of them?”

“I have to. Not only does it tell them I’m not fucking around with what I said, but it helps keep Cecelia safe. She may be able to take care of herself, but I don’t want to take any chances.” I hold her in my lap. She’s been quiet since I started the story again. I worry the trip down memory lane is fucked things up again.

“Wish I could be here to back you up,” Marshall tells me and I can see he’s dead serious.

“Thanks, man. But I gotta do this on my own. I’m not worried.” I brush Celia’s ponytail back from her shoulder, letting her soft hair filter through my fingers.

“They won’t expect Chace to show or defend. Fife and Brutal are hoping he chickens out. They really don’t want to fight him,” Celia tells Marshall as she looks at me. There’s pride in her brown eyes. Pride for me, in spite of everything I put her through. I really do have so much to make up for. “You saw it, he took Brutal down in five minutes. There’s nothing in the world for Brutal to do to change tonight.”

“And you took down that Fife guy,” Marshall laughs. “If that ain’t an ego killer, I don’t what is.”

“Yeah, but he’s easy. And it was more than just me who wounded his pride.” She kisses me softly, accepting the apology I’ve been silently giving her since the conversation started. “This girl he was after turned him down. Didn’t appreciate him fucking everything that gave him any bit of attention.”

“I can understand that,” Marshall says because it’s true, being addicted to sex he would understand to a degree.

“He’s not an addict though. He’s a dick. While trying to get the “girl of his dreams” to date him, he was setting up a booty call. You don’t do shit like that,” Celia corrects. “It’s about being top dog or some shit like that. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. You at least knew there was something wrong and wanted to get better. Fife just wants to be a douche.”

“And then you take him down. Makes sense, I guess. He’s pissed at you for rejecting him, pissed at Chace because you chose him, and needs to get that pride back.”

“Unfortunately for him, it isn’t happening any time soon.”

Marshall leaves a little while later. He promises to stop by before he leaves town, and promises to keep in touch. I actually believe it this time. Seems he now has a stake in our lives.

“Baby?” I hold Celia’s hand as I lead her to my bed. We both kneel on the mattress, and I cup her face. “I am so sorry for hurting you. To hear you talk tonight, I just…fuck! I had no idea you thought about dying.”

She looks away from me, shame covering her eyes. “It wasn’t like I had a plan. I was just tired of being insignificant. Of being used. No one really cared about me before. I thought maybe my dad did when he sent me to get help, but it was really just to get me away from him.” She sighs and looks back at me. “I meant it when I said I didn’t see you. We meant a lot to each other, but I never let you mean that much to me because I knew I would lose you like I lost everyone else. And then it happened and I felt bitterly vindicated.

“I slept with Frankie to hurt you. But to also hurt myself. I knew he was your friend. I knew if I was with him, you’d hate me and then it would be real.” She’s got tears in her eyes again. I quietly ask what would be real, and her response floors me. “You walked away. You believed Hayley, the guys. You looked at me like I
was
a slut and in my head, I figured, I’ll fuck your best friend, and then I’ll fuck someone else. And someone else. And when it’s all over, when you look at me,
really
look at me, I’ll finally be who you
think
I am. And then the hate you have for me will be justified instead of a manipulation.”

Shaking my head, I wipe her renegade tears. “I could never hate you, Celia. I could never ever feel that way. And I’m so sorry for everything. If I could go back in time and change it, I would. In a heartbeat.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I promise you, I never thought of you as a slut. Never once did it cross my mind.”

“Liar.”

“No, I swear. I just thought… well, I thought I just wasn’t that vital,” I tell her honestly. “In all the times I thought about you, it broke my heart. Especially the thought of you with someone else.”