Fighting (19 page)

I
sniffed and rolled my eyes.  "You can pick the next movie, Boss."

I
shuffled over to the mirror and leaned against it for a moment before I sat
down.  He sat down right beside of me and crossed his arms.

"So
where did you go, anyway?" I asked. 

"Brooks
owns a few different properties other than this one.  They're each owned under
a different alias, so there's no paperwork connecting this place with those. 
He usually goes and checks on them a few times a year, arranges to have the
place cleaned, etc.  There was a situation that one of his contacts needed help
with close by, so he sent me to do both."

"What
did the contact need?" I asked.

"Surveillance. 
I watched, reported, and then came home."

"You
kick any ass?" I asked, only half-joking.

"If
there was a chance of that, Brooks wouldn't have sent me alone."

Oh. 
Right.

"You
okay now?" he asked softly.

"Yeah,"
I said flippantly, waving my hand in the air.  "I just had a total mental
breakdown.  No big deal."

I
looked at the moon through the glass wall and thought about what he had said
about not having a real home in ten years.  He was right, I had felt lost since
my parents died.  I didn't just lose their presence, I lost their love and
attention.  The security of knowing that I wasn't alone in the world, of
knowing I'd always be taken care of.  The absolute sense of unconditional
love.  I had no roots anywhere.  When they left, I had my aunt, but she wasn't
really cut out to be a parent.  She loved me and gave me a house to live in and
food to eat, but she didn't give me a
home
. 

I
lost that sense of belonging, that carefree sense of living in the moment with
the people I loved.  Sure, I was eleven and couldn't put what I was feeling
into words quite like I could now, but I felt it.  I felt heartbroken and
alone, but mostly I felt completely and utterly helpless because there was
absolutely nothing I could do to bring them back. 

I
looked over at Ethan's profile in the moonlight, and the truth dawned on me.  I
was home.  I had finally found another home.  I felt it in my gut, and I knew
that it wasn't something I could ignore this time.  If I had succeeded in
leaving, I'd have realized my mistake too late and would have been too ashamed
to come back.  Fortunately, Ethan had my back.  And in that moment, I knew that
I had his, unconditionally.  He was right, it was too late; I was already
invested in him, in all of them.  And it was a two way street, Ethan had said. 
I wanted to show him that I was okay with that.  Wanted it, even.  So I told
him something I'd never shared with anyone else.

"They
were really amazing," I said.  Moonlight reflected off of his face as he
looked over at me in question.  "My parents."  I wiped the last of my
tears off my face and leaned my head back against the mirror, settling in. 
"My dad, his name was John but my mom always called him Johnny.  He was so
funny," I whispered, remembering how he would have to put barely any
effort into making me giggle.  "He would come home to find my mom
vacuuming or something, and I'd be in the living room doing homework, and he
would turn the music on really loud, so that we could hear it over the
vacuum."  My throat was closing up, making it more difficult to talk, so I
kept clearing my throat uncomfortably, trying to keep the damn tears at bay. 
"Then he'd steal the vacuum away from her and finish the carpet, dancing
like a crazy person around the furniture.  I mean, going all out with his
moves.  It was over the top and my mom and me, we'd sit back on the couch and
just shake with laughter." 

I
thought about them often, but I never
ever
spoke about them to anyone,
not even my aunt.  Ethan didn't say anything, he just listened attentively.  He
crossed his legs in front of him but didn't touch me, which I was thankful
for.  I knew that if he did, I'd lose what little control I had over these
fresh tears.

"My
mom, her name was Anne but everyone called her Annie.  She was really beautiful
and she had an epic sense of humor, too.  They fit together perfectly.  When my
dad would kiss her out of the blue or for no reason at all except because he
wanted to, she would get this expression on her face and you just
knew
that
she adored him.  She would smile and say, '
Thanks, love
.'

"She
was a nurse at the hospital, but she had a fairly normal work schedule, so she
was almost always home for supper.  We, uh. . . "  I sniffed and cleared
my throat again.  "We loved going to the drive-in theater together.  My
dad had a truck and we would lie in the bed of it on blankets and pillows.  I
remember . . . "  I paused to chuckle and wipe away a few tears that
escaped.  "I remember one time, we went and our car battery died, but
there weren't a lot of people at that particular movie, so we were pretty
isolated where we were parked.  We didn't want to bother anyone else to ask for
a jump in the middle of the movie, so we sat in the relative silence and voiced
over their speaking parts, saying what we thought they were saying or what
would be funny for them to say.  I could barely breathe, I was laughing so
hard," I whispered brokenly. 

Clearing
my throat stopped working, so I stopped talking or I'd burst into tears again. 
A few minutes later, Ethan finally spoke.

"The
drive-in," he said.  "Family activity."

I
knew what he was saying.  It's what I chose for us to do for the family outing,
and now I knew why. 

"Yeah,"
I breathed out.  "Family."

I
took a deep, cleansing breath and felt a little of the weight I carried around
dissolve. 

"My
family isn't like that," Ethan said.  "We love each other, I guess,
but not like that.  I left for college and only ever saw them on the big
holidays because I had to.  Still do.  I don't need them and they certainly
don't need me.  Better off with miles between us," he muttered.

"They're
all idiots," I said.

He
laughed softly and nodded his head in appreciation.

"I'm
sorry," I said.  He looked at me and I shook my head lightly.  "For
taking my anger out on you before you left."

He
smiled a little and said, "No worries."

We
sat together in the darkness and moonlight until he stood up and took me to his
room because my bags were laying on his bed. 

"I
wanted to make sure you couldn't leave before I found you," he explained. 

We
grabbed the bags and went back to my room.  He laid a bag on the bed and looked
down at me.  His mouth opened to speak, but no sound came out.  He shut it
again and furrowed his brow, searching for the words. 

Finally,
he sighed and then muttered, "Don't do that again."

"Thank
you.  For having my back," I said.

We
could have torn each other apart, and we nearly did.  But like a fractured
bone, we grew back and fused together to become even stronger than before.

He
wrapped a warm hand around the back of my neck and murmured,
"Always."

And
then he was gone, back to his room.  I unpacked my clothes and crawled into
bed, feeling a different kind of exhausted than normal. 

"What?"
Ethan asked me.

He
was sitting on a stool watching me cook breakfast. 

"You're
making me nervous," I said.

"Why?"

I
tucked some of my hair behind my ear.  "Because you're staring at
me."

A
little smile tugged at his lips and he said, "I make you nervous?"

Oh,
yeah.  But was I going to let him think so?  Hell, no.

"You're
sitting there watching every move I make.  I'm waiting on you to tell me I'm
doing something wrong, and then come and take over the show," I accused
him, telling a slight lie.

He
smiled and sat back against the back of the chair.  "All in your head. 
I'm just watching you, not critiquing you.  We're not training."

"Yet."

"Yet,"
he amended.

It
was his first morning back and I was set to train with the others for the first
time.  I was excited and happy that I wasn't stuck with Ross anymore.

"You
think I should apologize to Ross?" I asked as I poured pancake batter onto
the pan.

"Do
you want to?" he asked.

I
watched the batter bubble and sizzle on the pan.  "I don't know.  I feel bad
that I exploded at him, but I still feel like he kind of deserved it."

He
took a sip of his orange juice and continued to watch me with his fantastic
blue eyes that missed nothing.  Unnerving, I tell you, and not because I
thought he was critiquing me.  

Dude
was making me into a liar.  Bummer, but necessary.

"Because
he isn't good at communicating?" he asked.  "Some people are better
at it than others."  He smiled and crossed his arms.  "And you did
kind of compare him to me.  That wasn't really nice of you."

I
pointed the spatula at him.  "It was an indirect insult to him and it was
the best I could do under the circumstances with you and Brooks in my face,
reminding me of my manners."

"Yeah
but come on.  Him and me?"  He shook his head.  "No comparison,
babe."

"You
keep stroking your own ego, and I'll burn your pancakes on purpose."

His
eyes darkened just a little, but Ollie walked in before I could investigate it.

"Pancakes?"
Ollie asked.  "That's not really conductive to exercise this early in the
day."

"I
felt like pancakes, I made pancakes.  You don't have to eat them," I said
defensively.

He
sat down and wiggled his fingers at me.  "Hit me."

He
held up his plate and I tossed two pancakes onto it.  Ethan nudged the syrup
over to Ollie and poured him a glass of orange juice.  I placed my two pancakes
on a plate, and let Ethan's cook for a few seconds too long.  Ethan held up his
plate and I tossed them onto it.  He looked at the slightly blackened tops and
then back at me with one eyebrow raised.

I
rounded the island and sat next to him with my own plate.  "Let that be a
lesson for you."

His
eyes narrowed on mine and he turned away to pour syrup on his plate.  He cut a
big piece off with his fork, stuffed it into his mouth and moaned facetiously
like he was in ecstasy.  "Delicious," he said around the food still
in his mouth.  He quickly took a drink of orange juice to wash it down, I
suspected, to mask the taste.

"Yeah,
I bet," I said smugly.

We
walked to the gym together and we did our usual workout routine.  In the
studio, I joined the others and warmed up with them. 

"So
what are we learning today, Boss?" I asked Ethan.

"Pressure
points.  It's important for all of us to use them, but I thought it was
especially important for you to learn them.  You're tall and you're strong, but
you only weigh one hundred twenty pounds.  You go against a guy like me, or
someone bigger and you'll need to either fight extremely fast or extremely
efficiently.  You can use this and be both."

"Sweet."

He
went through all of the pressure points in the arm, neck, torso and legs and we
all listened.  I suspected it was a refresher course for some of them and
completely new for others.  Ethan demonstrated with Ross, and I tried not to
take pleasure out of watching, because truly, I didn't hate the man.  But not
going to lie, it was a little fun watching his face pinch and his body crumple
on itself several times. 

Ethan
paired us off, him partnering with me.  He explained exactly how it worked for
each point, and how to manipulate the nerve properly for an efficient
takedown.  We went through several drills, getting accustomed to the moves,
though we barely applied any force so we didn't hurt each other.  Then he took
us through real world scenarios and how to apply the moves in a fight. 

By
the end of the training session, we were only just touching on the pressure
points of the legs.  We would finish learning about them the following day. 
When the others cleared out for lunch, I hung behind and was talking to Ethan
about how cool I thought all of it was when Ross walked up to us.

He
looked at me warily.  "Just wanted to say I was sorry for not being more
attentive," he said.

I
sighed, knowing I needed to apologize back.  "I'm sorry for exploding at
you.  I could have said what I was thinking with more finesse," I said.

Ross'
eyes flicked to Ethan and back when he said, "Yeah.  It's okay, it
happens."

When
neither of us said anything after a few seconds, he nodded his head awkwardly
and left us for the kitchen.  Spencer ran into the studio and straight to us.

"Lunch. 
You're late."

Then
he ran right back out, probably concerned for his plate that he left
unattended.  We shucked our gloves and walked down to the kitchen.  Ethan sat
down across from me and we talked more about pressure points, because I found
them extremely fascinating.  I caught Ross staring at me a few times, and I
smiled weakly at him each time, further apologizing.

*****

I
was lounging in the living room with the others when I realized that I didn't
have to leave at ten to go train with Ethan at nights anymore.  I felt a pang
of regret, but it passed as I saw Ethan stand up from his chair and leave the
room without a word.  I figured he was leaving to go hit the punching bag, like
he used to do before he started training me.  I thought about that for a few
more minutes while we watched a movie I'd already seen more than once, and then
got up from my chair, too.  I ducked inside of my room to grab my digital
tablet and went upstairs to the studio.  I peeked in the window while he didn't
know I was there and my stomach did a flip and my hands gripped my tablet
tighter.  Ethan was punching the bag shirtless.

Oh
sweet Jesus, I was right.  He was ripped everywhere, not just his arms.  I
didn't want a repeat performance of the first time we really saw each other
when I got caught gawking at him, so I took a deep breath, shoved my hormones
in check, and walked inside the studio.  He turned at the sound of the door
opening and looked at me in surprise.  I didn't say anything, just held up my
tablet and walked to the balcony.  He continued punching, but followed me with
his eyes while I tried to keep mine off of him and his chest. 

I
tucked my hair behind my ear and sat down to read.  It took me a second to
focus on what I was reading and not the sounds of the hits he was making, but
eventually I got lost in the story.  This was probably the closest I came to
'leaving the room,' as Brooks would say, because what felt like ten minutes but
was really an hour later, Ethan was standing over my shoulder and saying,
"Good God, what are you reading?"

It
was so unexpected that I nearly jumped.  I whipped my head around to him as he
said, "Your character just killed three other people in less than three
paragraphs."

I
looked from my tablet to Ethan.  "He's an assassin."

"I
thought you didn't like assassins," he said.  He sat down in the closest
chair and raised his feet on the balcony beside of mine.  He completely relaxed
in his seat with that lazy arrogance that I despised at first, but was growing
to love.  There was something really sexy about seeing his big powerful body at
rest but knowing he could jump into action at a moment's notice.  And he was
still shirtless.

Yay.

"No,
I love assassins.  Watching them, reading about them.  It's suspenseful and
exciting.  And it's fictional.  No backlash in real life."

He
made a humming noise and rested his head back on his seat to look at the night
sky. 

"Do
you like to read?" I asked him.

"Not
really.  If I'm looking to escape, I just go to a bar or something."

"You're
such a man."

"What? 
Nothing gets me going like a good line dance on a floor covered in peanut
shells," he said sternly.

I
chuckled at his blatant lie.  "Yes, I can totally see you in a cowboy hat,
boots, and a huge ass belt buckle, dancing."

He
dropped the act and made a face of mild disgust.  "I don't dance.  And
definitely not in pointy shoes."

"Oh,
come on.  You would be a hot cowboy."  And somebody slap me because I did
not
just say that.

He
smirked and said, "Yeah, I got that a lot in high school.  But it's not my
style. I was the guy who wore a lot of black and was the only dude who drove a
street bike to school and back.  You try to put me in a cowboy hat, I'd sucker
punch you."

"You
were the bad boy," I surmised.

"Were?"
he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I
tilted my head at him in thought for a second.  "Touché.  Except you're
not a boy anymore.  Much more of an ass."  He leveled a look at me and I
laughed.  "What?  Simmer down.  I just called you a badass."

He
made another humming noise and muttered, "Noticed you didn't apologize to
Ross this morning for cheating on him with me."

"One,
that was a weird way to say that and two, I'm not sorry."

He
smiled.  "Why was that weird?"

"Sounded
like I was dating Ross and sneaking off to see you in the night. 
Cheating."  I made a face of disgust.  "No way in hell would I cheat
on someone, even if I wanted to be with someone else.  I'd break it off with
one dude before I even gave away my phone number."

"But
you
were
sneaking off to see me in the night."

I
rolled my eyes and said, "I'd never cheat on someone romantically."

"You've
been cheated on before," he surmised.

"Oh
my God, you're a mentalist," I joked.

"But
I'm right."

"You
are correct, sir.  Last boyfriend.  The second he got what he wanted, he
suddenly started getting really busy.  Wasn't but a week later, I caught him
with one of my classmates."

"You
damage him?  Junk punch him or anything?" he asked.  I shook my head. 
"You didn't even pitch a fit?" he asked, mildly astonished.

"Don't
know if you know me at all, but I'm not really one to pitch a fit."  He
leveled a look at me, probably thinking about when I almost attacked Ross. 
"Often," I amended.  "Anyway, I didn't love him."

"It
still had to sting though."

"Yeah,
it did hurt.  I'm not made of stone, and when you're with someone you kind of
expect them to keep it in their pants.  I'm thankful it happened though,
because it was a wakeup call; we weren't right for each other.  Also, it gave
me perspective, so if I were ever in the position to cheat, I wouldn't fuck it
up like he did.  I'd do the right thing."

"Have
you ever been in love?" he asked quietly.

This
question had the unfortunate effect of making want to stare into his eyes and
avoid his eyes at the same time.  I had to choose a happy medium, because
either choice would give him reason to pause.

I
debated not answering at all, but after a moment's hesitation I looked at him
briefly to mutter, "No."

"Do
you believe in love?" he asked.

My
parents' faces flashed through my mind and I gave a resolute, "Yes." 

He
was still watching me and I thought about asking him if he was ever in love,
but decided that wasn't a torturous road I wanted to go down.  In fact, it was
time for a major subject change before I burst into song about how much I liked
him.  I wouldn't even entertain the idea I was in love with him.

That
was just crazy talk.

"What's
up with the twenty questions, Detective Reid?"

He
looked mildly surprised.  "How did you know my last name?"

"Was
that a secret?  'Cause there aren't many around here," I said.

"Actually,
there are," he said cryptically.  "So what are you doing up here,
anyway?"

"Felt
like reading."

He
watched me a moment and did that thing that only he could do to me where I felt
like he was looking right through me and directly into my mind to see what I
was hiding.  The truth was that yes, I did want to read, but mostly I just
wanted to be near him.  I liked having him around.  And I was trying to ignore
the significance of that, because I'd never been like that with anyone before,
not even my previous boyfriends.  I usually went out with them on dates, but
when we got back home, that was it.  Date over, cue alone time.  But with
Ethan, I actually craved his company.