Down on Her Knees (15 page)

Someday.

Chapter Fourteen

Rafe pummeled the speed bag mercilessly, sweat stinging his eyes. It had been a month since he’d last seen her. Four weeks, three days and—he spared a glance at the clock on the dirty gym wall—one hour. Seemed like forever, and he was no more at ease with his decision than he had been the day he’d made it. In fact, if anything, he felt worse about it.

Last he heard, she wasn’t doing so hot either. In this case, misery didn’t love company. As much as it would’ve killed him to hear she’d landed another guy, he hated that she was hurting. Hated to think of her being sad.

Still not close enough to mental and physical exhaustion to call it quits, he’d just moved on to the heavy bag when a voice had him pausing, mid-jab.

“You want a sparring partner, or are you going to continue punishing Georgie’s poor bags for the rest of the night?”

“Tell ’em, Galen,” Georgie called from behind the desk at the entrance where he sat watching an old Frazier versus Ali fight on a black-and-white TV in the corner. “We were supposed to close at eight tonight.”

Everyone who frequented “Georgie’s oxing Gym”—the “B” fell off the sign twenty years ago—knew Georgie wasn’t going home before midnight in any case. He’d always said the secret to his long, happy marriage was the fact that he and Ruth never spent more than three hours in the same room unless they were sleeping.

Rafe turned and eyed his friend. Galen and Lacey had been knee-deep in diapers, pink paint, and spit-up for the past two weeks. Oddly enough, his friend had never looked happier—he noted the bags under Galen’s smiling eyes and a smile tugged at his lips—or more exhausted.

“Melina still getting her days and nights mixed up, huh?” Rafe asked, backing away from the bag, adjusting the tape on his hands.

Galen shrugged and chuckled. “I guess so. But I don’t really give a shit. She’s my little angel, and if I never slept again, I’d die a happy man.”

Rafe couldn’t deny it. The little butterball was pretty cute, and Lacey and Galen had taken to parenthood like they’d been made for it. Which made him wonder why, after weeks of sticking close to home with his new addition, his buddy had decided that swinging by Georgie’s at eight thirty dressed in gym pants and a T-shirt stained with what Rafe could only hope was pureed peas seemed like a good idea.

“Cat told you I was here.”

It wasn’t a question. He’d run into Cat and Shane on his lunch hour and mentioned that he’d be stopping here before going to Sully’s later tonight if they could slip away. Lately, alone had felt more alone than ever and the only time he felt halfway normal was when he was slammed at work or surrounded by people.

None of whom were Courtney.

Cat had tried to grill him when it first happened, but after years of friendship, she’d recognized a stone wall when she saw it. She’d been a little short with him for the first couple weeks, but once she realized this was taking as much of a toll on him as it was on Courtney, she’d relented. Now the band was back together, but short a member, and Cat and Lacey had started a side project—an all-girl trio—with Courtney.

They spent a lot of time helping with the new baby, and that was great for Lacey but also for Courtney. He was happy she had them. If she felt anything like he did, she surely needed friends around. But it still never ceased to make his guts hurt when Shane told him the girls were getting together. Silly to be jealous of two of the friends he loved most for getting to spend time with the girl he’d dumped.

What a dick.

Galen cleared his throat and raised a brow. “You want to do this or what?”

It had been a while since he’d sparred with Whalin’ Galen Thomas, and that might be exactly what the doctor ordered. Who knew? Maybe the former heavyweight champ would land his patented haymaker and knock him out for a while. It would be the most rest he’d gotten in a month. Still, his mind was in more of a “seek and destroy mode” than one appropriate for sparring, and he tossed a nod to the training mitts in a box on the yellowing floor.

“I don’t feel right hitting a man with baby puke on his shirt who probably spent the past month eating boxed mac and cheese. But you can be my hands if you want to.”

It was a bad decision, and one that was going to cost him. If they’d sparred, at least the mouth guard would’ve kept him quiet for a while. Instead, he could see Galen gearing up for a speech as he donned the mitts.

“Look, man, I don’t even know the whole story, but I can’t imagine what could’ve happened that was so bad that it isn’t even worth talking about trying to fix. I know you both well enough to know there was no cheating, no abuse, no drugs or stealing. So what then?” Galen held up his hands and nodded, signaling for Rafe to start throwing punches. “What’s so bad that you can’t man up and go to her?”

Rafe unleashed a jab-cross combo.
Thwap. Thwap.

Galen pressed on when Rafe didn’t answer. “Figure out a way to talk this through and see if there’s another solution other than the two of you being alone and miserable. Unless you’re hell-bent on acting like a stubborn ass.”

Talking that kind of shit would’ve earned most guys a jab to the jaw, but he and Galen had been through enough together that he knew it for what it was. Some probably long-overdue tough love. That didn’t stop him from blowing it out with a torrent of punches that had to have his boy’s hands stinging even with the protective mitts.

“Nice,” Galen nodded. “Still fast as hell. You should’ve gone pro. But don’t try to distract me. Answer the fucking question.”

Rafe ran a slick forearm across his damp face and stepped back. Might as well get it over with. It couldn’t make things worse. “She neglected to disclose a couple important things.”

“Like what?”

How much to tell him? Then again, he probably knew it all anyway. Secrets were hard to keep in their tight-knit group. He flickered a glance in Georgie’s direction and said quietly, “Apparently, I was the first guy to get her off.”

Galen nodded slowly. “Yeah, Lacey said that’s the bullshit excuse you were trying to pedal. Maybe I’m being thick here, but I’m not seeing how that’s a problem. And it damn sure isn’t one to break up over. So why don’t you tell me the real deal?”

His ice-blue eyes held a challenge and Rafe bit back a sigh. “You can’t break up if you’re not together. We had an agreement.” He blew out a vicious breath and punched one of the mitts halfheartedly. “She thinks she’s in love with me. I heard her tell your sister.”

“Talk me through what that little bit of info meant, to your mind.” Galen shrugged a wide shoulder. “I can’t promise I’m going to get it, or be able to offer any advice, but it might help to get it all off your chest.”

“You know how she was at first. When Cat told her about my preferences. She pretty much called me out for it, and basically announced that she would never get down like that.”

“And did that seem like a challenge to you?”

He made sure to think hard before he answered. “Maybe it did, but not enough to do anything about it. Not worth the damage. It was one of those ‘Man, I’d love to spend some of my nights with those legs wrapped around me changing her mind,’ but nothing more than that. And then we were at your wedding, and the garter thing…”

His mouth went dry as he recalled that night. The way her needs had called to his. The way her skin had felt under his fingers. “I got wrapped up in it. In her. We hooked up after the reception and it was…” He trailed off, torn between not wanting to share what had been such a deeply intimate moment and wanting to make Galen understand the magnitude of their chemistry. He settled for simple. “Man, it was fucking good.”

Galen’s curt nod told him he’d rogered that, loud and clear.

“After that, we were off to the races. I should’ve seen it coming. That we were getting in too deep. Maybe I did, but I didn’t want to face it. It wasn’t just the scenes. We talked in a way I haven’t talked with a woman in…” He trailed off, letting his buddy fill in the blank.

Galen yanked off the mitts, looking thoughtful. Another minute went by and Rafe had about given up on a response when he finally looked back at him.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

He blinked at his friend and straightened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re going to lose out on the best woman you’ll ever get because you’re stubborn and too much of a chickenshit to take a chance. That makes you a class-A idiot in my book.”

“You’re assuming that what she thinks she feels is real. Could be nothing more than the fact that I was the first guy she ever had a satisfying sexual relationship with.”

“She’s changed. You can see it in her. She’s so confident and sure of herself, even now, being heartsick over you. She got her dick of a boss at work fired for mistreating the staff, she’s been going toe-to-toe with Cat. Like she knows who she is and what she wants. I hate to say it, but…”

Galen’s voice was sympathetic, and Rafe braced himself for the coming blow.

“You were a big part of that. You helped her get past the shit with her ex. Telling her how she needs to listen to her instincts, and how she’s smart and strong and needs to trust herself. And then she does, and whether you want to admit it or not, falls in love with you. Then you turn around, dump her, and act like her feelings can’t be trusted. Sounds like kind of a dick move to me. At least be honest with yourself. You’re crazy about her too, and are too scared to admit it.”

Damn. Galen always had a good right hook. Rafe glared at him, but the anger was surface only. He didn’t answer, lost in thought, and a minute later Galen interrupted his thoughts.

“I gotta get back to Lacey and the baby, but think about what I said at least, would you?”

Rafe gave his friend a noncommittal grunt, but Galen didn’t have to worry. Rafe was fairly certain he’d be able to think of nothing else for the foreseeable future.

He moved back toward the heavy bag and took a swing. Whatever his friend said, he knew one thing for sure. If he put his heart on the line and Courtney broke it, it would obliterate him. Maybe even worse than Monica’s death had. He’d loved her the way a boy did his first love, and the guilt for what he’d accepted as his role in her death had compounded that heartbreak. But what he felt for Courtney was different. Complex. Deep. He could see a future with a woman like her. A life. It sparkled on the horizon like an untouchable star.

It took another forty-five minutes before he punched himself out, because he was hardheaded like that, but eventually, it became clear as crystal.

Galen was right. After all his big talk to Courtney after the break in, he was still letting fear control him, resigning himself to a life alone…a life without her so he never had to risk heartache again. But every day since he’d left her had been torture.

He finally got it.

Now, when he’d hurt Courtney so badly he wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive him.

Now, when he’d failed her by convincing her to trust in herself and then walking away when she did.

Now, when it was probably too late to fix it.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

He tapped out a quick text on his phone, waved to Georgie, and headed for the door.

“Go get ’er, kid.”

…

“If you think I’m getting on that, you’re even crazier than you look,” Courtney said, eyeing the mechanical bull like it was on fire.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Cat said with a wave of her pen. “And if not”—she held the sheet of paper in her hand with her signature at the bottom aloft—“the waiver says you’re entitled to up to ten thousand dollars in the event of sudden death or dismemberment.”

“Oh, well that’s different then. Sign me up.”

Cat narrowed her eyes, studying Courtney’s face. “That’s sarcasm, yes? So you’re saying you still don’t want to do this?”

Courtney sighed and nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

She glanced around the spacious room decked out in cow skulls, lassos, and saddles and asked herself for the tenth time since they arrived why she’d agreed to this. Country line dancing was so not her thing.

It wasn’t Cat’s either, but riding a mechanical bull had been on her bucket list, and after her ill-fated attempt at it a few years back—which had resulted in at least one broken bone—she’d been champing at the bit to take another crack at it. That was so like Cat. Taking the proverbial “falling off a horse and getting back on” sentiment to a whole other level.

“That’s fine. We don’t even have to stay all night. We’ll check out the band and have a drink while we wait for my turn. In the meantime, maybe you can dance with that cute guy who’s been staring at you since we walked in before we go.”

Courtney followed Cat’s glance across the bar to a good-looking guy in a cowboy hat who grinned when she met his gaze. He tipped his hat and she nodded back before looking away.

Tall, dirty-blond hair from what she could see, and piercing blue eyes that were so unusual in color that they were clearly visible from twenty feet away. She should’ve been moved. But she wasn’t.

“Seriously?” Cat asked, setting down the consent form and shaking her head in despair. “He looks like Brad Pitt in
Thelma & Louise
and nada? Man, you do have it bad.” She rubbed Courtney’s back sympathetically. “I was trying to get you out of the house, but if you’re not ready for this, we can go to Giardello’s, get a big cup of cocoa and a fat slice of death by chocolate, and hang if you want to. I can do this any time.” She tipped her head toward the bull and they both looked just in time to see a slim brunette woman go flying off the back of it and land in a heap on the mat a few yards away.

“Damn.” Cat whistled. “That had to hurt.” Even after witnessing the carnage, she still leaned forward in her chair, practically bouncing with excitement when the emcee got up to announce the next rider’s name.