12. Chapter 12

12

Heath

Night is the most vulnerable time of the day. The darker it gets, the more you're open to feelings and emotions that don't invade you in broad daylight.

It's 3 a.m. Logic can't justify why I'm lying on the floor of my sister's bedroom and listening to the last voicemail she sent me.

"James! I know you're worried but relax. You called me ten times. Geez. I feel wanted when you never call me. I'm safe. You should stop worrying about me. I promise I'm fine. I'll be back home on Sunday. We'll watch a movie together. I have something I want to tell you. Also, do not touch my controller just because your buttons aren't working. I will kill you if I find out."

The beeping sound hits, and her voice disappears, but the empty feeling in my chest stays right where it is.

I play the voicemail for the thousandth time and listen to her sweet, worried tone. Emery was fond of threatening me, yet she's the one who left me.

It all happened because of fucking cancer.

My hands go up to my hair. I yank the strands to get rid of the God-awful headache. It's like someone is banging a hammer on one side of my brain.

I need to get away.

Grabbing my car keys, I bolt out of the room.

"Where are you going, sir?" Derek asks from behind me. I swear this guy never sleeps. He's always onto me like my own shadow.

I ignore him and go to the garage where my McLaren is parked. Minutes later, I drive out of the driveway when the sound of another car reverberates in the vicinity. Derek is following me.

For fuck's sake.

Pressing hard on the accelerator, I speed through the narrow streets while also keeping track of his car.

"Motherfucker." I increase the speed to over sixty and make several rounds of the same neighborhood. When I can't see him in the rearview mirror, I turn off the headlights and slowly drive through a network of roads and pull up at the gym.

I find the room already bright with lights. Paul, my trainer, is punching the bag viciously as if he's killing someone.

The noise of my footsteps gets his attention, and he looks up at me with his drenched hair and sweaty chest that's an eight pack. At thirty-six he has more muscle and stamina than any man I've ever fought. From winning bronze to gold medals, he's an impeccable fighter with no one in life, except his German Shepherd, Yale.

"Tough night?" He quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Something like that," I mutter, not wanting to talk to him about my personal matters. He knows about Emery's death, it's the reason why he agreed to train me. According to him, ‘boxing is therapy.'

"Hop into the ring," he orders, knowing damn well I hate talking about myself.

Removing my shirt, I look down at my black sweatpants. I don't have shorts, so they'll have to do. Putting on my gloves, I enter the ring and throw some punches around for the fun of it.

Paul tosses me a headset. I roll my eyes. He shoots me a glare. "Safety first, boy."

With a sigh I put it on, he doesn't. "You don't need safety ?" I taunt.

He smirks and bumps his gloves with mine. "To hurt me you have to hit me first."

Nobody aggravates me like Paul does, but I also know he's the best in Bellmare.

Someone who's a loser knows the true value of winning. That's how Paul is. He worked his ass off to get where he is today—and picked up arrogance on the journey. That aside, he is a good trainer and knows how to kick my ass.

We spar for hours. I throw punches and hooks, but he blocks every hit. His defense is better than mine, but that's because I'm an attacker and he isn't.

Sweat covers my body and my breaths get heavier.

I'm frustrated.

Swinging my arm, I keep trying to hit him, until he rounds his leg around my knees and knocks me to the floor. His hands take a hold of my wrists, and he pins me with an intense glare. "What's the matter with you?"

I scoff and refuse to look at him as the memories from earlier conjure in my brain.

I'm fine.

"Nothing," I grit out.

Paul gets off me. I roll over and stand up. Untying the gloves, taking off the headrest, I sit on the mat to catch my breath.

He sits a few feet away from me and stares at me. "It's your sister, isn't it?"

I shake my head and splatter sweat on the mat.

He scoffs. "Yeah, sure. Why else would you be here at five in the morning?"

I look out and see the sky turning bright and flocks of birds flying around.

How long have I been here? Clearly more than an hour.

"I should go." Collecting my shirt, I get into the bathroom and take a shower. Cold water flows down my body. It doesn't freeze the damn numbness in my chest or the way my soul aches.

I'm in pain, emotional pain. I don't know how to work through it.

Therapy is out of the option. The mere idea of telling a stranger my inner thoughts makes me want to get hit by a truck.

I don't like being fucking vulnerable. More than that I don't fucking know how to be.

I can talk to Sebastian, but he has his stuff to deal with. Marie doesn't need my darkness touching her light. I'd hate to make her upset. She already worries about me a lot. I hate it.

So that leaves no one.

After a shower, I slip on my clothes and drive to Sebastian's apartment that he's renting all by himself. God knows, he needed to move out of the house where he was living with his mother who loved drugs and brought strange men to her home. Men who hurt her son, but she didn't care.

Using the spare key, I slip inside and turn on the lights.

"You're early." Sebastian comes down the stairs where his room is.

"Yeah." I lean against the nearest wall.

His apartment is too small, but it's his. The living room and kitchen are an open concept and share the same space. There's only one bedroom and bathroom that are both up the few steps of stairs. Unlike me, he isn't a clean freak, but when Marie is here, she either makes him do it or does it herself. She's transformed this tiny space into a home with their photos hanging on the walls, scented candles, decoration pieces and other house accessories that make it a great place to live.

His eyebrows pinch. "Everything okay?"

"Mhm." That's better than lying.

Marie comes barreling down. "My best friend is here. Good morning!"

I cock my head to one side. "Good morning. You're quite cheerful."

Her cheeks turn bright red, and she grins. "You see, I came in a little earlier and Sebastian and I spent the time in his bed—"

I roll my eyes. "And that's all I need to know."

Moving toward the kitchen I open cabinets and pull out the protein powder to make a shake for Sebastian and I. Marie starts on pancake batter, and Sebastian eagerly joins her.

Seriously, he should be helping me instead of sneaking his hand under her top.

Sex freaks.

Once I'm done making the shake, I turn to him only to find him kissing her neck and grinning like a fool.

Fuck. I'm so glad that he's here and he's happy. He deserves this girl and the love she gives him.

As if he can feel my stare, he looks up at me and smiles. "Is it ready?"

I nod, and we both move to the couch in the living room while Marie works on pancakes.

"Did you do the business homework?"

"You need help?" I know he finds business difficult when math is involved.

"Can I copy yours?"

"What do I get in return?"

He leans back on the couch. "How about the list of boys asking me about Hope?"

"What?" I burst out in rage, which earns me a scolding from Marie to keep my voice down because it's early in the morning.

Sebastian swallows the drink before laughing hard. "God. You pathetically like her."

Excuse me? I don't like her. Yes, I'm intrigued by her and want to help her, but that's only because I don't want her to get hurt.

"I. Do. Not," I insist.

"Yeah sure." He grins.

I want to shove a brick into this mouth.

"You're a piece of shit."

"Don't insult me like that. You're the piece of shit for lying."

Fuck the manners.

Taking the glass of water, I splash it onto his face.

"Heath you fucker! I'm going to kill you," he roars behind me. I enter the kitchen where Marie would step in and stop him.

"Step outside you dickhead," he says coming around the island, but slips and falls onto the floor with a thud.

"Oh my God." Marie rushes to help him.

I can't hold my laughter and grip the island as I laugh loud. My stomach hurts as I watch him sit at the stool while holding his back.

"I'm going to kill you," he warns me in a cold voice, but I keep laughing.

"Heath stop it or else he'll come for you," Marie warns me.

I flex my jaw to not laugh again. "Good luck with not falling."

"That's it." Sebastian comes at me, but Marie gets in his way.

"Stop it you both and eat breakfast. We're getting late for school."

"It doesn't start until eight, babe." Sebastian bends to kiss her cheek and also shoots me a glare. I give him the finger.

"It's six already," she reminds him.

Rolling his eyes, he sits at the island and starts stacking up pancakes.

I carefully take a seat next to him. Retrieving a fork, I dive for his pancake.

He slaps my hand away. "Stop eating my food."

"It was one fucking bite."

Marie serves me next then goes upstairs to tidy up the bed and gather their things for school.

Silence settles in. I feel uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't this quiet when his mother was around and making a mess around the house, screaming and cursing at him, or fucking men in her room down the hallway.

"I think someone is abusing Hope," I blurt out.

Sebastian stops chewing and narrows his eyes on me. A deep frown that will grow wrinkles on his forehead.

He'd look so fucking ugly.

"What the fuck, Heath?" He hisses at me.

I clear my throat. Feeling completely no edge with how my intestines curl and twist in discomfort. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. But Sebastian is my best fucking friend. I can tell him anything.

"I know it sounds fucking delusional. But I'm telling you something is wrong."

His fork clatters on the plate. "How do you know?"

Anger surges through me ferociously. My fingers dig into the palms as they form into fists.

For some unknown reason I feel violent at the thought of someone hurting her enough to leave marks. Her neck had finger-like fucking bruises that were put there and weren't from a fucking straightener.

"I—" something in me stops me from mentioning those marks. I want to keep that information to myself because it seems too personal.

I look at my best friend who's watching me with piqued interest.

"She's skittish and keeps her distance," I say, instead.

"Maybe because she's shy. Or we intimidate her."

I want to slap his fucking face.

Sebastian is one stupid asshole.

"Right because we look like fucking monsters from the movies." I sarcastically comment.

Sebastian shrugs. "I wouldn't disagree. I mean look at me. I'm quite tall and big."

I want to bang my fucking head against a wall.

"We're the exact same," I say.

"You're not quite as muscular as me. That's why I'm better than you at boxing."

I chuckle dryly. "Wanna test that later today?"

Sebastian grins with his blond mess covering the forehead. "Sure. What do I get for winning?"

"Nothing because you are not going to win. However, if I win, you're going to give me that fucking list you were talking about."

Sebastian laughs and elbows me in the stomach. "Pathetically like her."