J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forget

I stumble across the room, tripping over biker boots and who knows what else. It’s too dark. I pull back the thick curtains and the bright sun makes me think it’s later than I thought.

Where did I put my backpack?

My eyes scan the area. It’s not here. I move across the room, flipping up dirty clothes and tossing food wrappers.

“Hatch! Where’s my backpack?” I have no memory of bringing it in here, but then again most of my memories from last night are fuzzy. “Shit, shit, shit!”

I race out of the room and down the hallway to the main living space. There’s a naked couple asleep on the couch, and one woman passed out on a recliner.

But no backpack.

Everything I own is in there: cash, cards to my bank account, clothes. If it’s gone . . . My heart pounds and I break out in a sweat. Bile rushes to my throat. I race to the kitchen, double over the sink just in time to cough up the sour taste.

I have nothing, no one I can call. The only person who would consider helping me would be Trix, but how do I explain being in Colorado with her semi-boyfriend. I’m screwed. Totally fucked.

“Yo, Snow.” Hatch’s voice calls from behind me. “You okay?”

I spit bile and shake my head.

He laughs. Asshole.

“Where’s my backpack?” I just want to get the hell out of here. Physically, emotionally, these last two days have brought me to the threshold of my tolerance. I can’t handle anything more.

“No clue. Did you leave it at the bar?” He hands me a paper napkin.

I take it, straighten from the sink, and wipe my mouth. “Of course I didn’t.”

“You look like shit.”

“You’re an asshole.”

A slow smile spreads across his goatee’d face. “Come on. I got something that’ll perk you up so we can find your backpack.”

“Perk me up?” I look around the dirty kitchen, open bottles of liquor, half-eaten food. “I don’t think I want whatever biker hangover cure you’ve got in mind.”

I just want my shit so I can leave.

“Hey, you want to find your shit and get on the road?”

God, yes. So badly. I nod.

He motions for me to follow him. “Then come on.”

My stomach still in knots, I follow him back to his room, scanning the entire way looking for my backpack. There are a lot of closed doors in this place. Maybe one of the guys pulled it into his room?

Even back inside Hatch’s room, I pull open the drapes and click on the bathroom light, searching. It’s nowhere. Dammit!

“Here.” He holds a small square mirror up to my face.

“What is that?” I’m pretty sure I know, but he can’t possibly think offering me drugs is going to help my situation.

“Coke. It’ll kick that hangover. Help you think straight.” He pushes it closer.

“No thanks.” I scoot around him and continue my search.

“You’ve got a better option?” The sound of him sucking the powder into his nose fills the room.

Do I? The only way I’d ever touch that shit would be to put myself out of my misery, which I may need to do if I can’t find my backpack.

Terror pricks along my nerves. If it’s gone, stolen, I’m at the mercy of Hatch until . . . until when?

I watch him pour out another line and suck it back, the biker dick who hates Rex and hit me.

But saved me last night.

And he’s my only hope.

Six months later . . .

Rex

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” I look over to find Emma squirming in the passenger seat, her hands knotted together.

Her bright eyes fix on me. “Yes. It’s fine. I’m just nervous. It’s a lot of pressure to meet all your fighting friends on our first date, ya know?”

Date. Right.

The last date I went on was with Gia back before my entire world was destroyed with the discovery of a damn stuffed animal. Coming back from that has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s taken months of intensive therapy three times a week to get to this point, and I still have so far to go. Fuck, it’s only been in the last few weeks that I’ve been able to stop referring to Gia as Mac.

I’m grateful for Emma. She’s been a good friend. I’ve had her inside my condo, even curled up with her on the couch to watch movies. She’s mellow, never demands more than I can give. I figured it was time I took her out on a real date. Thought it might help me move on. Forward.

So here I am. But I can’t help but feel blah.

I like Emma. She’s beautiful, sweet, and funny in her own way. I’m sure if I give it time I’ll grow to have the intense feelings I felt with Gia, before I found out she was Gia.

I blow out a long breath and try to relax.

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” Emma lifts one eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Jonah’s been staying home a lot, and I haven’t seen Raven and the baby since I visited them in the hospital.” After everything they went through when the baby was born, Jonah didn’t let anyone come near Raven or the baby for a long time. He was so close to losing them both; he’s added a new level of overprotection to his already nuclear-level possessiveness. “We don’t have to stay long. We’ll drop in, say hi, and then grab dinner.”

She nods and stares out the window, and I can’t help but think of Gia. Darren says I need to stop comparing the two girls and just appreciate Emma for the girl she is rather than who I wish she was.

I’m trying. But the truth is I miss Mac.

It didn’t happen overnight, but I realize now that her heart was in the right place. God, the things I accused her of: lying, stalking, and manipulating me to feel something for her so that she could destroy me.

Every night when I lie in bed, waiting for sleep to take me, I remember the feel of her soft body, the tropical smell of her skin that drove me fucking insane with lust, her hands tearing into my hair when we kissed, pulling against my lip ring with so much passion she could hardly control it. But she did. Her white-knuckled grip held her back to keep from touching me, biting down on those full lips to keep from talking—all because I asked her to—ignoring her own desires to accommodate mine.

I rub my cramping chest.

Where is she now?

I went to get my stuff from her place a few weeks after she left my condo. I knew she never showed up at The Blackout, but I’d hoped maybe she was still in town. Trix explained that she took off that night and left her phone behind with most of her things. There was a note for Trix saying she was sorry.

My bag was there, packed and waiting. It wasn’t until I got it home that I realized she left me and my memories behind too. The bear and my writings. I must’ve dug through every pocket in that bag a dozen times looking for a note. Parting words, something, anything. I found nothing.

Not that I blame her.

I kick back the thoughts and the direction they’re taking me when we pull into Jonah’s driveway. It’s lined with cars and Emma visibly tenses.

Gia would never get this nervous around people whether she knew them or not.

Fuck. Stop it!

I throw the car in park and walk around to open her door.

She hops out, her army-green Toms practically silent as her feet hit the concrete. Her chin tilts back and she looks up at me. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” I grab her hand and we walk to the door, but before we get there it swings open.

“Hey, guys. I saw you pull up.” Layla wobbles a few steps, arms outstretched and belly that looks freakishly huge against her tiny frame.

“Hey, Momma.” I lean down and do my best to hug her with the basketball bulge between us. “How’re you feelin’?”

She pulls back and rests a forearm on her stomach. “Hmm . . . like an overstuffed penguin with a grapefruit shoved up its a—”

“Mouse, baby.” Blake comes from behind her, wraps his arms around her and rubs her stomach with both hands. He kisses her neck. “Don’t act like you don’t love carrying my kid.”

She tilts her head and smiles up at him. “Yeah, I do love carrying our kid.”

Blake drops a soft kiss on her lips and my mind cranks back to Gia. It’s amazing how the slight brush of lips can communicate just as much as a passion-filled tongue intrusion. My lips tingle to feel it again. I roll my lip ring between my teeth to squelch the ache.

“Who do we have here?” Blake straightens from Layla, pulling her to his side with an arm thrown over her shoulders.

“Oh, right.” Fuck, I’m horrible at shit like this. “Emma, this is Blake and Layla.”

She inches closer to me and smiles.

Layla’s gaze slides to mine, a sadness in her eyes that makes me drop my gaze. She clears her throat. “Emma, nice to meet you.”

Layla blames me for Gia’s cut-and-run. She didn’t understand what happened and was upset thinking I’d exiled her. Blake, not liking to see his pregnant girlfriend sad, came after me and insisted I explain everything.

I did. Mostly.

A girl from my past pretended to be someone else to get close to me. They understand why things ended between us—betrayal and lies are hard to overcome—but I know Layla misses her friend. My chest goes tight and I grip my shirt there. God, so do I.

“Nice to meet you.” Emma mumbles, avoiding Blake and Layla’s eyes.

“Well, come on in. You’ve got to see how big baby Slade’s getting.” Layla turns into the house and we follow inside.

Before we’re in the living room, I can hear the cooing of female voices. I walk around the corner and almost burst out laughing.

Emma’s hand slides into the crook of my elbow. “Aww, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I look down at her and then back to the hysterical situation in front of me.

Jonah, all six-foot-five inches and as wide as a damn car, is wearing some bright pink thing draped from his shoulder to his ribs. It reminds me of the way Gia would wear her messenger bag, slicing across her chest and accentuating her full breasts. But whereas Gia’s bag made her look hot, Jonah’s pink wrapper makes him look like an idiot.

He’s smiling down at the tiny bulge behind the fuchsia nightmare at his chest. When he looks up, he spots us right away, but he’s still grinning like a jackass. “Rex, man, you gotta see this.”

I step up and clap him on the shoulder. “Nice shawl, brother.”

Jonah’s smile falls slightly and his eyes narrow. “It’s called a sling, ass face.”

I stifle a laugh. “Don’t give a rip what it’s called; you look like a dumb ass wearing it.”

Blake coughs and clears his throat, his hand covering his mouth.

Jonah’s glare moves back and forth between us. “For your information, this sling holds my daughter against my chest at all times.” His big hand cups the tiny bump behind the fabric.

Raven comes up and gives me a hug. She’s all smiles and soft looks, and the extra baby weight she’s carrying has only added exotic curves to her already hot-as-hell self. “She went from nine months of hearing my heartbeat in the dark, feeling safe and warm. We just want her to keep feeling that for as long as we can.”

Jonah glares. “It’s called attachment parenting, fuckers.”

“Joey!” Katherine, Jonah’s mom, reprimands him from the couch.

“And for your information, I have one coming that’s black with skulls and blood splatter.” His face goes soft and he gazes down at the bump. “You’re going to love that, aren’t you, my princess?”

I point to the bright girlie wrap. “That tiny bump in there is the baby?”

He grins wide. “Yeah, come here. You gotta see this.” He pulls out the edge of the fabric and nods for me to peek inside.

There, curled up in the tiniest ball imaginable, is baby Sadie Slade. Jonah named her Sadie because it means princess, and he swore he’d protect her like one. Thick black hair and the smallest face relaxed with sleep, she looks just like Raven. “Wow, she’s so small. What am I looking for exactly?”

“Just keep watching.” He angles his body so that I have a better view.

Little sounds, baby grunts and then . . . a smile and two of the deepest baby dimples punch through her chubby cheeks only to fade when her smile does.