Fighting to Forget (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

When he came to there was a beeping sound beside him, maybe the reason he woke up in the first place. Larson turned his head and stared at the blood bag hanging from the IV pole, followed the red tube all the way down to his arm, and saw the blood was being transfused into him. He looked around, saw that he was clearly in a hospital room, and then everything came rushing back to him. Before he could get up a nurse was by his side, her hand on his arm, her touch soft.

“Relax. You’ve been through a lot.”

“My wife,” he croaked out.

Her smile faded, and sympathy filled her expression. “I’m sorry, but your wife didn’t make it.”

He closed his eyes, already knowing as much, but a small part of him knew the truth. “The other man,” he mentioned Haines, knew that he’d killed him, or at least he hoped he had, but he needed confirmation.

“The police will be in once you’re feeling better. They’ll talked to you about everything, and then a social worker can speak with you if you feel you need … to talk to someone.” She said the last part empathetically.

“Just tell me,” he said in a harder voice, looked at her with hard eyes, and wasn’t about to jump through hoops just to get the information he wanted and needed. “I need to know, please.” He said the last part in a softer tone.

She didn’t answer right away, but he could tell by her expression she’d tell him whatever he wanted because she felt sorry for him. He hated that, hated the pity on her face.

“Yes, the other man has passed away. But don’t think about any of that right now.”

She checked a few things on his IV pole, his chart, then patted his hand and left him alone.

He wanted to just get out of this fucking bed, leave the hospital, and never look back. Scrubbing his hand over his face, felt the beard across his cheeks and jaw, and just relaxed, or tried to. Dropping his hand to the bed, it gave a thump as it hit the mattress. He knew he should feel some kind of relief that the man that had taken everything from him was gone. But all he felt was this emptiness, this sorrow and darkness that slowly filled him. He’d never be the same, he knew that, and he embraced it.

****

It had been a week since they’d been together sexually, and although Larson still wanted Tasha so fucking fiercely, he also didn’t want her just for sex. Tonight he’d invited her over, made them dinner, and now she was sitting on his couch in front of the TV. There was some rerun on, a movie about a boy that got lost, a woman found him, and the boy’s father ended up with the woman. It was sappy as hell, a total “chick flick” but she’d turned it to the show, and he liked that she’d made herself at home.

He grabbed a glass of wine for her, a beer for himself, and left the kitchen to head to the living room and sit beside her. “Anything good?” he asked, although he knew this movie from the late nineties was not something a man would probably watch. Maybe that was sexist, but he wouldn’t have chosen it as cinematic entertainment. Still, Tasha could do whatever she wanted. He’d hold her close, smile, and keep his mouth shut.

She looked at him, wrinkled up her nose, and shook her head. “Are you kidding me?  I was never one of those people that liked sappy romances, but I couldn’t find anything else on.”

He grinned. She was certainly a woman after his heart. His thoughts went to why he’d really called her over here tonight. The somberness in his body went to anxiousness, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. It was strange to feel so vulnerable with a woman when he’d kept himself strong for so long. But Tasha had opened his eyes, opened his heart, and he wanted, no, needed, to be honest with the woman he loved.

“You’re thinking about something serious. I can tell,” she said, and he felt her gaze on him.

“How about we have that talk?” He turned on the couch, kept her close, but stared at her in the eyes, hoping she saw the seriousness in his expression.

“Okay,” she said softly.

It took him a while to see how he’d proceed with this, but he knew he had to, knew he had to be open and honest, and see where the cards landed. They couldn’t fully move forward unless he came clean with his past. Tasha was his life now. He knew that and felt it in the very recesses of his soul.

He touched the scar on his neck, watched as she lowered her gaze and stared at him as he did the act, and all the memories from his past came rushing back. But it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. In fact, he felt this freeing emotion consume him at the fact he was finally going to tell someone. Sure, everyone who’d read the paper or watched the news back then knew about his past and the murder, but he’d never actually spoken the words to anyone. He kept it in, deep inside of him, and lived with that.

“Over a decade ago I was married.” He paused, kept his eyes trained on Tasha, and tried to gauge her reaction.

“Go on,” she said softly, placed a hand over his, and smiled.

“I was married over ten years ago, loved Melanie so damn much, and thought I’d start a family with her.” He didn’t know how it would make Tasha feel with him saying that, but he wanted her to know that part of his life. “I was in the MMA, competing in my last fight with a man named Haines, and I beat him. I got the championship title, and was ready to retire and finally give Melanie the attention I’d neglected while I was in the fighting scene.”

She breathed in and out softly, and as he stared at her face, he didn’t see any discomfort at where this conversation was going, but only open and honest acceptance.

“I came home after the championship to see Haines had raped and murdered Melanie.”

She gasped, covered her mouth, and he saw her eyes grow large and watery. “I am so sorry.”

He shook his head, knowing she meant her sympathy, but needing to get this out.

“I’ve never told anyone about any of this. But they knew. Everyone knew because it was national news, made headlines, and it rocked the Absinthe MMA.” He looked at the TV that had since been muted. He saw the couple embrace, the man cupping the woman’s face, and the love on their expressions.

“I would have been too young to have seen that in the news.”

He looked at her again and nodded. Larson took her hand in his, stared down at her delicate fingers, at the way her fingernails were painted this soft pink color, and how she was so fragile compared to him. No one in the training facility talked about his past. They knew better, so it wasn’t like Tasha could have heard anything there.

“Yeah, I figured as much, but I’m glad you didn’t hear about it.” He continued to look at her hands. “It was gruesome and grisly, and I’d hate for you to have that memory, even if it was part of my life.” His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst through his chest. “But Haines attacked me at the house. I hadn’t known he was there, and when I went after him, so consumed and blinded by my rage, I was sloppy in my actions. He cut me.” He let go of her hand, touched the scar on his neck, and pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal it on his chest. “I thought I would die that night, wanted to in fact, but I’d called 911 when I’d first found Melanie, dropped the phone, and totally forgot about them in the situation. They saved my life.” He said the last part hard, without emotion. “And for a long time I hated that, hated that I lived and she died.”

“I’m so sorry, Larson. I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like for you, to have to live your life with that memory.”

He looked at this young woman that had changed something inside of him, made him feel this contentment and heat that had nothing to do with the fact he wanted her body like a fiend. She was sweet and honest, gave as good as she got, and was so damn strong it made him proud.

“I wish things had been different for you.” She gave him this sweet little smile, and he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

“Things
are
different now. I won’t lie and say the last ten years haven’t been me living in this dark shadow of anger, fear, hatred, and wanting to feel pain and inflict it. But then I saw you at the gym, felt this emotion inside of me that was good and warm, and I didn’t know if I liked it.”

She nodded. “I understand. How could you not feel even more afraid after what you’d been through and lost?” She moved closer to him, and he gladly pulled her into the hardness of his body. She was so soft and smelled so good that for just a moment all he did was hold her and inhale deeply.

“I want you to know that the past is the past, and although I’ve kept everyone at a distance, told myself I would never be with a woman because they deserved better, I will do everything in my power to show you that you are my world now.”

She leaned back, her mouth slightly parted. He cupped the side of her face.

“I don’t want you worrying that I’m holding onto a memory of Melanie, trying to replace her with you because that’s not what this is.” He smoothed his finger along her cheek, meaning everything he just said. “I want to make this work. I don’t want to lie to you, hold anything back. All I want is honesty between us.”

She looked up at his face, and the emotion in her expression was raw, unhinged.

“I want to tell you something, because I believe in honesty, too.” She looked down, licked her lips, and pulled her hand away from his.

He let her take this time to herself, didn’t rush her, pressure her, or try to get the conversation moving along. This was hard for her. Hell, it had been hard for him to talk about what happened, and he’d give her all the space and time she needed.

“When I was seventeen I had a relationship with a man much older than me, a man that I shouldn’t have done anything with because of who he was.”

He didn’t say anything, just let her take this breather before she continued.

“He was my teacher in high school, would ask me to stay after class so he could help me with my studies, and, well,” she lifted her gaze to his, “one thing led to another.”

She didn’t need to elaborate what she meant, clearly. “He took advantage of you,” Larson said, feeling anger that some man had controlled this young woman and taken something from her that she wasn’t mature enough to give.

“He didn’t, but others said that. My parents said that.” She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. “I knew what I was doing. I was seventeen, and you and I know that’s not a child, not really.”

He didn’t argue the point with her, because if he had a daughter and that happened to her Larson would have felt like it was rape in every way. “How old was he?”

“Thirty,” she said without hesitation.

“He took advantage of you,” he said again, harder this time.

She shrugged. “It happened regardless, and…” She stopped, and he had a feeling whatever she was about to say was what they were really talking about. “I got pregnant.”

There was this long silence between them. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort her. Hell, he didn’t even think she would welcome comfort at this moment, not by the way she kept twisting her fingers together and bouncing her feet on the floor.

“I grew up going to church every Sunday, my parents instilling in me that I needed to save my virginity until I was married because that’s what God wanted for me. Being with him meant I was a slut, disgracing them, their name, and the church.”

He hated that she was so upset right now, her voice shaking, her fear and pain evident.

“School was almost out, but I left before I was showing, got my GED, had the baby, and gave him up for adoption.” She kept twisting her fingers together. “But it was better for him. He got the life I’d never have been able to give him.”

He pulled her onto his lap, not about to have her deal with this alone. “I’m so sorry. Have you seen him? Your child I mean?” He didn’t know how to ask the question, or if he even should ask it.

“He’s not my child, hasn’t been from the moment I gave him up.”

“That’s not true,” he said and pulled her back so he could look in her face. “In here,” he placed his hand on her chest, “he will always be yours.”

She smiled, her tears slipping down her cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed them away, tasted the saltiness of her pain and sadness, and pulled her in for a hug. She rested her head on his chest.

“I feel like I should be the one to be comforting you. Your life, and what you lost, is so much more painful than mine.”

He shook his head. “Your pain is just as hard, just as real. I’ve never dealt with losing a child, and although your son is still alive, it’s still painful for you, still a loss, and that shouldn’t be disregarded.” He ran his hand up and down her back.

“I’m sorry about your wife, Larson.”

“Thank you, baby, and I’m so sorry about what happened to you.” He felt closer to her after sharing these things and hearing her past. “Did you tell your teacher about the baby?” He didn’t know if it was okay to even talk about this.

“I did, and he accused me that it wasn’t his, and if I told anyone both of our lives would be ruined.” She was playing with the edge of his shirt now, running her fingers back and forth over the material, but having calmed down a bit.

“But nothing happened to him?” It would seriously piss him off if that asshole didn’t have any kind of punishment or shame over what he did with Tasha.