10. Chapter 10

10

Heath

I CAN FEEL IT.

The nervous energy radiates from her.

Putting the car into brake, I give her my full attention to find out what's bothering her. I never like it when she's not her usual self. For some fucked up reason, it irks me.

Hope is bouncing her leg, and her eyes are filled with fear.

Questions run through my mind; I ignore them. She doesn't want me to intervene. She's been vocal about it enough .

I can't just fucking ignore when someone's hurting her.

My hands tighten around the steering wheel. I try to vanish Hope out of view. It's damn near impossible.

I wait for her to get out. She stays put.

She's stalling and it makes me worried.

"Something wrong?" I finally ask.

"No." She hesitantly slips out of the car. Leaning down, she says, "Thank you for everything."

I nod, too distracted by the lady watching me from the window. She's pulled the curtains away and is studying me with a peculiar gaze.

"Goodbye, Heath." She goes inside her house.

I stay out for a minute then drive away.

I offered her help. If she needs it she'll ask for it.

I come out of the bathroom in a pair of shorts and throw some punches in the air to get ready for my fight.

Sebastian watches me curiously.

"Your girlfriend won't like you appreciating my body, Bash." I tease him.

"You wish. Mine is so much better than yours." He gestures to his body that's ripped and filled out with muscles in all the right places. Like me, he spends a lot of time in the gym to be this fit. Also, it helps him cool off and release stress.

I walk deeper into the room. "I found you passed out on the treadmill yesterday."

"I was sleeping!" he says flushed.

"So that's what we call passing out now?"

"For someone who didn't say a word at the diner, you're quite chatty now."

"I didn't have anything to say."

"Huh?" He smirks.

"What's that look for?" I sit down and start wrapping my knuckles with the tape.

He arches an eyebrow. "Are we not going to talk about it?"

I know exactly what he means. "No."

"You like her, man."

I have no idea what he's babbling about. I like no one.

"You're fucking delusional." I avoid his stare and his presence.

"The only one delusional here is you. Why can't you just admit you have a thing for Hope?"

"I don't. I just helped her because Marie and you are too lost in your own world to notice anyone else."

He points a finger at me. "Take that back. It's not true."

"You left us," I deadpan.

"Maybe it was intentional."

"No one asked you to play matchmaker."

Sebastian sighs and picks up the water bottle and downs half of it. He fought before me and won the match but gained a gnash on his forehead and a split lip. Marie will scold him. The thought amuses me. He is more muscular than me, and people get intimidated by him quite easily. However, it's a sight when Marie is scolding him, and he's looking at the ground and watching ants. She hates it when he gets hurt or drinks—something he's given up on since last year.

"We're not playing anything . You're the one who decides to spend time with her. Like tonight when Mare offered to skate with her you stepped in. And when Hope sat in the booth, you sat next to her."

Denial tastes like poison in my mouth. I chug down some Gatorade.

"I don't care about her." If I say it enough, he'll believe me. I will, too

"Then I guess you won't mind if I give Tyler her phone number. He asked me for it at school."

Pure rage flows through my veins. Without thinking I pin Sebastian to the nearest wall.

I get into his face and snarl. "Don't you fucking dare, Sebastian."

Instead of pushing me off, he smiles.

I quickly step back in shock.

"Don't care about her? You're such a fucking liar." He strides out of the room when I stop him.

"If you give him her number I'll destroy him."

"You know I won't do that." He looks back at me.

"I'm just telling you." I pick up my towel and wipe the sweat off my neck.

"You know me, Heath. I've got your back and your girl's."

I throw the Gatorade bottle at him, but the fucker escapes before it can hit him.

Left jab. Right jab. Right Uppercut.

My opponent falls to the ground. The referee whistles and announces my win. Men chant in excitement of my victory and the prospect of winning the bets they placed on me.

Yanking my hand away, I hurry to the back room. Getting my gym bag, I change into black trousers and a T-shirt. Ryan, the manager, comes in with a thick wad of cash.

"You were good, kid." He hands me the money. Without counting the bills, I throw them in my bag and turn to leave when he steps in my way. "Mr. Wild wants to talk to you."

Warning bells ring in my head. He's a mobster and a drug dealer with a vast network of suppliers everywhere. He makes millions of dollars every month and has a frightening reputation.

"Tell him I said no." There's no way I'm meeting that man. I'm reckless, angry, and rude, but I'm not a fucking idiot.

I side-step him but Ryan holds my arm to stop me.

I glare. "Let go of me."

Ryan does as I say. Good. Because if he didn't, I would've ripped his arm off.

His lips thin in displeasure. "If he wants to talk to you, you don't walk away."

I know the serious repercussions that could come from ignoring Wild, but I'm not willing to get involved in his games or become his bitch. If he wants a fighter he can find plenty here.

"I said I'm not interested. Not now. Not ever."

With that, I leave the building and enter my car. Going over sixty, I speed through the streets and arrive at my house. After taking a quick shower, I get downstairs.

Derek watches me as I take care of my knuckles in the living room.

"Where were you, sir?"

Derek is a sixty-year-old man who has no family or relatives. Thin gray hair that was once black frames his wrinkled face and his black eyes look like pits of darkness. Standing an inch taller than me he is an intimidating man with a lean figure and skeptical gaze. I'm not afraid of him because I've known him since I was little.

"Out," I say.

"Your father doesn't like it when you stay out—"

"I don't give a fuck about his opinion."

"Sir, that's disrespectful."

I glance at Derek and see his usual disapproving scowl. "He deserves nothing but my disrespect."

"He cares about you."

I scoff at the ridiculous implication. Does he care about me? Sure. I see him visiting me twice every month.

Xavier Travon, a tycoon in the world of electronic business and real estate is my father. A father I wished I didn't have. He's the owner of multi-million-dollar companies. A known businessman in Toronto who's been featured in Forbes thrice and is only forty-three.

"Because I'm the heir to his empire, not because I'm his son."

I leave Derek before he can bombard me with more wisdom. He always ties me up in phrases I can't escape from.

Kelly stirs the ladle in the hot pot. She's a short petite brunette with brown eyes—hers are darker than Hope's, not that I'm thinking about her. Kelly is in her late sixties and has a few grandchildren she asks me to hang out with.

I hate people. I've always been an introvert. Meeting new people and going to new places annoy me. I like my room, my bed, and my loneliness.

The moment I'm in the kitchen, she sends me a smile. "How was your day?"

Kelly has raised me since I was little. She knows me and my sister from the inside out. She's seen me at my highest and my lowest moments in life and tried to help me. I refuse it every single time. I don't want her sympathy or pity.

Everyone treats me like a china plate that will break at any moment. I hate it. I'm not vulnerable or need to talk about my feelings. I'm fucking fine.

"Same as old." I sit on the stool at the island.

"Nothing exciting happened?"

I roll my eyes. "No."

She sets down rice with stir-fry vegetables. It's my favorite dish. She knows it.

"Let me grab a plate and we can eat together."

Since Emery's death, Kelly tries to keep me company during meals—not that I need it—and asks me about stuff. It's irritating at times, but it also makes me feel less lonely.

"Whatever."

She makes a plate and takes a seat across from me.

Derek comes in for dinner but doesn't join us. Good. I'd hate to be around that vigilant man who's a pain in my ass.

"What's been going on lately?"

"Nothing." I take a bite. Like always it's delicious.

"Marie was telling me about this new friend. She's in your group now?"

For fuck's sake.

"She is only Marie's friend." And Sebastian's. Definitely not mine.

She shoots me a warm smile. "I think it's good to make new friends. Don't you think so?"

I glare. "No."

"Your go-to answer to everything." She laughs and I stuff my mouth to not reply. "When you meet new people you get to know their story, sometimes you can even relate to them. I know you don't like people. But I think it's worth a try."

I clutch my silverware tightly. "Only to fucking lose them later, right?"

A deadly wave of silence fills the kitchen and creates tension.

Kelly looks at me softly. "You're not going to lose every person in your life. What happened to Emery—"

"I don't want to fucking hear it."

"Sebastian is here."

"I was going to lose him last year."

"You didn't. That's what matters," she says with a finality to her tone.

"Maybe."

She switches the topic to my studies. I reply in short answers.

When we're done I offer to wash the dishes, but she pushes me out of the kitchen. She never lets me help her, no matter how persistent I am.

Lying on the couch in the living room, I watch old boxing matches on the forty-inch flat screen. I study the moves and try to memorize them to get better.

Boxing is one thing in life that brings me peace. It also gives me a sense of direction when I feel lost all the time. I don't know what I'm doing or where I want to go in life. But in the ring and fighting my opponent, that's the only time I don't feel lost. I feel like I belong there. I'm meant to do this one thing.

An hour later, Kelly comes into the room with urgency.

I sit up to make space for her. "What is it?"

She clears her throat, her eyes sad. "I don't know if I should give it to you or not."

I frown in bewilderment. She never hides anything from me.

"Just tell me." I insist.

She clears her throat again. "Derek and I were trimming the bushes when I found this in the soil."

Her hand disappears into her white apron pocket, and she pulls out a ring that belongs to Emery.

I snatch it from her and stare at the purple stone embedded in a silver ring. Nothing fancy. She bought it from a cheap jewelry shop, and raved about how it's the greatest place on Earth—my sister was dramatic like that. Then she lost it, and we turned the whole mansion upside down but never found it. Until now, when she's not here anymore.

I close the ring in my fist and fight back the tears that burn my eyes with the heat of embers.

Without saying a word, I jog up to my room, twist the lock, and lean my back against the door.

My room is where my emotions are safe. Where I'm allowed to have a mental breakdown without anyone watching.

I stride toward the floor-to-ceiling glass window that gives a spectacular view of the town that lies below me filled with lights and life. Sometimes I sit here and watch it. It's calming.

Sitting there, I play with the ring, rotating it between my fingers. I remember her wearing it. It was her favorite ring. After two days of endlessly searching for it, we went back to the shop but couldn't find another piece. There was only one, and it was lost.

Not anymore.

Emery settled for another ring. She was like that. Someone who wouldn't fret over things too much. To her, people meant more than things.

I'm the opposite. For me things hold meaning. I still have the hoodie from the fourth grade that Sebastian gave me because I was cold, the black mug with butterflies on it that Marie gave me last year, and the silver chain Emery gave me on my fifteenth birthday—the one I wear every day since. I have so many things from all the years that my friends and sister gave me. I'm attached to them. I can never think about throwing them away or replacing them. If I ever fucking lose them, I'll lose my mind.

That explains why I'm reluctant to let go of Emery. She's irreplaceable.

My phone vibrates. I see Mom's name on the screen. Switching on the silent mode I toss my phone on the bed.

Out of nowhere, Hope slips into my thoughts. I remember that woman looking at me from the window. Something about her doesn't feel right. She must be her mother—the person who hurt her. Or it could be someone else. Maybe someone at school.

Please let there be no more bullies. We dealt with them. I don't want Hope to get through the same shit Marie did. It was hell.

I have no idea why there's an urge in me to protect Hope. I don't even know the girl. She's a nobody to me, yet there's a pull that tugs me toward her.

I'm only doing this so nothing bad happens to her. That's my reason.

Not that I'm interested in her. She isn't my type. Well, I don't have a type. No one interests me to pursue them. The ones who are interested in me only want a good time.

My thoughts steer back to Emery. The ring digs into my palm as I hold it a little tightly.

I feel hollow, lonely, and detached.

After a while I move to my bed, the sorrow pushing me down. It's a heavy feeling, and all of it rests on my chest. The pressure suffocates me.

My chest expands with insurmountable emotions that make it hard to fucking breathe. Air escapes my lungs.

Fuck. It's happening.

I think I'm having a panic attack. I get them frequently, so I don't freak out now.

Rolling over, I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling. The cold metal digs into my skin and diverts the mental pain.

Opening my mouth, I draw in long breaths, while listening to the rapid beats of my heart. The sound is fucking loud as it echoes in my head like a drum.

For the next five minutes, I repeat the same thing over and over.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This feels like I'm being punished for not saving my sister. Anxiety and depression—as Sebastian told me—are the rewards I got for my failure.

Maybe helping that pretty girl can help me redeem myself.