Sadness colors her otherwise happy face. I regret asking as soon as I see the change.

“I don’t have any family anymore. Joe’s the closest thing I’ve got to family.”

“I’m sorry.” I want to ask questions, find out more about what makes her so sad. But the overwhelming urge to see her spirit rise greatly outweighs my selfish curiosity.

Unshed tears fill her normally sparkling eyes and it feels like someone reached into my chest and squeezed my beating heart. Each pump causing more pain. Lily looks lost for a moment, her memory taking her somewhere else, a place that obviously causes her grief. She begins to speak, but I stop her. “You don’t have to. If talking about it is half as painful for you as it is to see the sadness it causes mar your beautiful face, then don’t.”

She blinks back tears from her big almond shaped eyes. “My mom died when I was three years old. Car accident.” She pauses. A small, but real, smile forms on her lips. Her eyes filled with remiss, she reflects back. “After she died, I had bad dreams for a long time, so my Dad would lie with me every night until I fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, he was always gone, but he left an old pocket watch in his place in my bed.

He left it on purpose, knowing I’d feel better just having something of his near me. The sound of that old watch grew to soothe me in the months after I realized Mom wasn’t coming back home to say goodnight to me. Then when I was five, my dad would walk me to school every day. We’d hold hands and swing our joined arms as we walked. One day in kindergarten, some boys made fun of me, calling me a baby, because I still held my dad’s hand.

So the next day when we walked to school, Dad went to take my hand and I shoved them into my pockets telling him I was cold. I hated not holding his hand, but I thought I fooled him. Then the next day, it happened again. Dad went to take my hand and I thought my slick move had worked the day before, so I shoved my hands into my pockets again. Only that day, I found Dad’s old pocket watch in my pocket.

We smiled at each other but didn’t say a word. He slipped it into my pocket every day for the next few years, neither one of us ever talking about it. Somehow it made me feel better having a piece of him always next to me.”

I rub her shoulders as she speaks and hold her tight when she’s done. “He sounds like an incredible man. I wish I would have met him.”

“He was amazing. He was my ground when I felt like the world was spinning out of control. Strong, tough, yet loving and protective.” She’s silent for a few minutes, memories filling her head. “All those years of just the two of us, we were a team.” She pauses. “I gave him a hard time as a teen. But he hung on and waited for me to get through what I needed to go through. He had the patience of a saint.” She smiles, thinking back. “The guys used to tease him that he got his name for putting up with me.”

I listen quietly, running my hand through her hair as she talks about her father. I love how she lights up when she thinks of her dad, but afterwards the sorrow that ensues is deeper than the glow of the memory.

“Dad never remarried after Mom. He didn’t even really date much. He used to say, when you’ve had the love of your life, anything else just pales by comparison. He threw himself into his career and taking care of me. That’s why the gyms are so important. Why Joe and I agreed only a silent investor would work. It means the world to me to keep his vision intact and not turn it into a franchise. Plus, it makes me feel like a piece of him is still with me everyday. He worked so hard to build it to what it is today. He wanted something substantial to leave behind someday. Wanted to make sure I was taken care of when he retired.” She pauses. “He didn’t realize that someday would be so soon. None of us did.”

I pull her close to me, wrapping my arms around her tightly, wishing I could take away the pain I see buried deep. But for now, until she’s ready to give it to me to hold, I’ll just hold her tight.

Chapter 19

Lily

I’m up early, nervous about going back to work today. Even though what happened the other night was only between Jax, Caden, Joe and I, I’m sure the gym will be buzzing. You’d never guess it, but fighters can gossip better than the ladies that lunch. Sure, they prefer to call it “shooting the shit” but they could have saved Paul Revere a long ride back in the day.

Jax insists on coming with me. I know it’s like bringing gasoline to a party filled with sparks, but I have to admit, after the other night, I feel better knowing he’ll be near.

After ten minutes of blotting on makeup, I step back from the mirror, afraid to see what my neck looks like. It’s no use. The early pink and pale purple bruising has turned a vibrant shade of black and blue. Nothing short of a turtle neck would cover it up. Too bad it’s going to be seventy degrees today.

Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed talking on his cell as I emerge from the bathroom, he catches sight of me from the corner of his eye as I walk out the door. His eyes drop to my neck and I watch as his jaw flexes. “I’ll meet you there at ten,” he says into his phone, before pressing a button and standing.

Dressed in a suit, sleek and confident, he looks every bit the tycoon I’ve emailed over the last few months and far from the fighter I’ve gotten to know intimately over the last few weeks.

“Hot date?” I tease.

“Yep. Meeting her at ten.” Jax tightens his tie, grabs his jacket, and walks toward me.

Irritation written clear on my face, I squint, my hands on my hips, assessing him. He had better be kidding.

A wry grin crosses his cleanly shaven face. Honestly, he looks so delicious I’m not sure if I prefer sweaty fighter man or sexy business tycoon. “Problem?” He leans down, kissing me chastely on the lips.

“You’re dressing up for a date?” I ask, the word date said with disdain, annoyance obvious in my voice. I can’t help but feel a little territorial when it comes to him.

“Yep. With a banker. 10AM.” He grins knowingly, quite enjoying that he’s ruffled my feathers.

“Very nice. I’m sure you’d enjoy it if I told you I had a hot d….”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jax growls, pulling me flush against his body in a not too gentle manner.

Inwardly my ego preens, but outwardly I goad him even more. “So you don’t want to hear about my dates.”

“I won’t hear about them, because you won’t be having anymore.” His voice is low and gruff. I look up into his eyes, expecting to find playful, but he’s dead serious. Oddly, his possessiveness totally turns me on, whereas Caden’s was a total turnoff.