His words triggered another spurt of tears. God. It suddenly occurred to her that he was right. She’d lost both of her parents, didn’t have any other family. Clay was all she had.
“I’ll try harder,” she vowed. “And not because I need your help. Even if you said no right now, I’d still try.” Squaring her jaw, she gestured to the carton of eggs sitting on the other counter. “In fact, why don’t we start with breakfast?”
“I like the sound of that.” Smiling, Clay rose from the stool. “Do you still like your eggs scrambled?”
She smiled. “Yep.”
As he headed for the counter, his demeanor turned serious again. “As for our little O’Donnell problem, you don’t have to worry, Sky. I’ll take care of it.”
Relief spiraled through her. “Thank you.”
And then she stood up and went to help her stepfather prepare breakfast.
Chapter Fourteen
Two weeks later
“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me you’re going to fight in that tourney!” Reed’s outraged voice blared from the doorway, right as Gage’s fist slammed into the center of the punching bag hanging in the corner of his office.
He pulled his arm back and glanced over, forehead wrinkling in bewilderment. “Of course not.”
Reed strode inside. “Yeah? Because it sure as hell looks like you’re training for something. You’ve been beating the crap out of that bag every evening before we open.”
Gage grabbed the towel on the desk chair and mopped up the sweat rolling down his bare chest. “I’m not training. I’m just letting off steam.”
Ha. Letting off steam. That was a nice way to phrase it. Truth was, he was spiraling. Free-falling without a parachute and trying to grab on to anything to ground him.
He missed Skyler so much it hurt. He figured pounding a bag of sand was better than walking around like a dead man.
He hadn’t realized how big of a part she’d come to play in his life until she was gone. The phone calls. The movie marathons. Teaching her to cook. Talking. Fucking.
Lord, he felt empty without her, but he was forcing himself not to second-guess his decision to end it. Although Mitch and his men hadn’t come after him again, Gage knew it was only a matter of time. Which was just another reason to stay in shape—the next time they made a move, he’d be ready for it.
Except he wouldn’t wait for them to come to him this time. He’d decided that this morning, when he’d yet again woken up alone in a bed that still smelled like Skyler because he refused to change the sheets. He wanted to hold on to her sweet fragrance for as long as he could, to cling to the memory of how much he’d loved holding her, kissing her, moving inside her.
“Then you still haven’t heard from Mitch?” Reed asked.
Gage tossed the towel aside. He ignored the lingering ache in his rib cage as he pulled on a T-shirt. “Nope. But he’s about to hear from me.”
AJ drifted into the office at that moment, his expression hardening as he caught Gage’s remark. “Wait, what? Did you just say you’re going after O’Donnell?”
“I want to set up a meeting.” He shrugged. “Make it clear that he isn’t in control of my life. I’m not his puppet, and I won’t fight on command.”
“You really think he’ll just happily agree to back off?” Reed gestured to Gage’s face. “Bro, you’re still sporting the bruises from your last meeting with his crew.”
“They can rough me up as much as they want. Mitch needs to know I won’t play ball, no matter how much he pushes.” Setting his shoulders, Gage went over to the desk and searched for his phone.
“If you’re serious about meeting with him, then we’re coming with you,” AJ said firmly.
His friend’s don’t-even-think-of-arguing tone surprised him. AJ had been a professional fighter, just like Gage and Reed, but the man lacked the violent streak that ran freely through his two friends. With his dark blond hair and twinkling green eyes, AJ was the easygoing, boy-next-door type. Too damn nice for his own good, which was why Gage had been surprised to run into him on the fighting circuit—until he’d seen him in the cage and realized just how deadly AJ Walsh could be. Still, although AJ craved the adrenaline high he got in the cage, once he left it he reverted back to Mr. Nice Guy.
“Damn right we are,” Reed agreed. “We’re not letting you anywhere near that psycho without backup.”
“I’m not arguing with you.” Gage gave his friends a wry grin. “I was already planning on recruiting you to come along.” He found his phone under a stack of time sheets, the grin fading as he pulled up Mitch’s number.
A few seconds later, O’Donnell answered with an angry, “What the f**k do you want, Holt?”
Gage was taken aback by the curt tone. “Mitch. I figured it was time the two of us had a little chat.”
A derisive snort echoed in his ear. “Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear.”
His confusion intensified. “Message?”
“Yeah, you know, when you sicced your own private Fed on me? Special Agent Rivers made it clear what would happen if I didn’t back off. And you know me, I’m all about self-preservation. I can’t have the organized crime unit putting a spotlight on me, so slap yourself on the back, ass**le. Looks like we’re out of each other’s lives for good.”