“This is a lot better than deer meat,” she says.

It seems like years ago when the two of us shared a simple meal on the floor of the attic. “We have a guy who cooks a couple of times a week. Our fridge is always stocked.”

She creates an H in her nearly demolished bowl of noodles. “That must be nice.”

Until I was thrown out, I took it for granted. Along with a million other things. “Are we going to discuss what happened earlier?”

In midbite, Haley coughs, then forces down the swallow. “Do we have to?”

“Yeah.”

“I got hit and freaked out. I guess I’m rusty.”

“What did Matt do to you?”

She slams the bowl to the floor and the fork clanks. “Nothing.”

Bullshit. “You turn white every time you see him, and Jax told me you stopped fighting six months ago—the same time you broke up with Matt. Jax also told me you held a national title. National titleholders don’t walk. Matt did something and I want to know what he did.”

A fire ignites in Haley—the same inferno as the night we met. “Jax needs to keep his mouth shut.”

“Maybe you need to learn how to talk.” And I hit the nail on the head and I’m much closer than I’d prefer. The pieces fall into place: Haley freaking about fighting, about dating a fighter, then how hard she’s fighting me now. A dangerous undercurrent of anger floods my veins. “Did Matt hit you?”

“You don’t get to ask me that.” Haley’s on her feet and across my room in seconds. I’m up after her fast and I grab her arm before she can reach the doorknob. When I turn her toward me, she jerks away, then slams her palms into my chest. “Don’t touch me!”

She gasps and stares at her hands as if they’re covered in blood. “Oh, God, I did it again.”

I worked too hard getting her back to reality and I’m not going to let her slip away. I take her hands and plant them on my chest. “Do it again. If you need to shove me. Do it. You know I can take it.”

Haley snatches her hands back and stumbles until she smacks the door. “This is why I gave up fighting. I did something horrible and I don’t want to do it again.”

This is it. This is as close as I’ve come to being inside Haley’s head and if I say something wrong, if I move the wrong way, she’ll shut down and I could lose the only good thing in my life. “Do what? What don’t you want to do again?”

Her fingers splay open and she holds them up in a stopping motion, but I’m not what she’s battling. There’s something in her brain, someone there torturing her.

“Do what?” I urge.

It’s like a shadow descends and she shrinks from it. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

I’ve never been a praying guy, but the goose bumps forming along my neck tell me something evil is attacking her soul. “You’re only hurting yourself by not talking to me.”

Haley breathes. One breath in. Another released. A steady movement of her chest rising and falling. Hours could have passed as I watch her wage a war in her own mind.

“There is no answer you could give that will make me change how I feel about you.”

“And if he did—” a strangled sound escapes her throat “—do it...it still doesn’t make what I did right or what I did to Kaden...or how I hurt Jax and my family and my grandfather. What I did was wrong and I’m useless and I’m pathetic and...”

“You are none of those things.” Anger swells up in me, directed at Matt. If I’m not careful, I’ll take it out on Haley. Not wanting to hear her berate herself any longer, I bridge the distance and pull her in to me. “There is nothing you can say to change us. Nothing.”

Haley’s hands fist the material of my shirt. For once in our damned relationship she’s relying on me. I rain kisses into her silky hair and rub her back.

“Nothing,” I repeat.

I hold on to Haley, wishing I was twisting that son of a bitch’s neck. He hit her and not in the sparring type of way. “What happened with Kaden?”

Haley rests her head on my shoulder and gestures to where Kaden’s glove had made contact. “The hit to the head. It triggered some stuff. Do you think I’m crazy because I freaked?”

“No. I think Matt’s an ass**le.” I think Matt’s a f**king dead man. “How often did it happen with Matt?”

My heart beats several times.

“Once,” she whispers. “That’s when I walked away.”

“Jesus.”

“I hit him back,” she mumbles into my chest. “I made him bleed. If I showed restraint, then maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.”

Every muscle in my body convulses. He’s dead. He’s f**king dead. The damned bastard won’t walk another day. “I’m glad you hit him back.”

She becomes limp in my arms. “It’s funny. I spent my entire life learning how to fight and I never thought of it as hurting someone. It was a sport—the ultimate chess match—and I was good at it. When I stepped into the ring, my intentions were never to hurt. My intentions were to use my skills against another person with skills. But with Matt, I meant to hurt him and I did. Doesn’t that make me as bad as him?”

I set my hands on her shoulders and move so I’m eye level to Haley. “He hit you.”

She flinches with the word hit. “He hurt me.”

“Hit.” I flip back through our conversation and realize she’s never fully admitted what he did. “He attacked you and you defended yourself. This wasn’t a sparring match or a tournament. Someone you trusted failed you. That makes him an ass**le and you justified.”

Haley cracks her neck to the side and steps from me. I allow her the space, because she’s heading away from the door. Her fingers brush along the top of my dresser, touching two of my watches, a class ring and a bottle of cologne.

She assesses the room. The judgment I’d been waiting for since the first night I brought her here settles on her face. “Why are you with me? You could have anyone, yet you’re with me.”

“What you mean to say is that I’m rich.”

“And I’m poor. I lived in a homeless shelter.”

I shrug. “And I lived in my car.”

“You can’t understand me.” She dangles the Rolex from her fingers. “It’s not the same.”