Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“It was almost twenty years ago, all that mess,” I go on.
“Still,” Graham sighs, causing his back to shift and the gravestone tattoo to move around. “What are the chances it’s a coincidence?”
“If it’s Emil, let him come,” I snarl. “I don’t care. Let him bring as many friends as he wants. I’ll fight if I have to. I’ll die if I have to.”
“Jesus, K,” Graham says. “I don’t want you to die, man.”
I can hear it in his voice – he’s detected the fire in mine.
I’m burning up with even more fury than usual, probably a result of checking my phone several times an hour, waiting to see if my woman has replied.
My woman, my woman, my woman.
The phrase plays on a loop in my mind.
“My old man used to say that if I died while fighting, he wouldn’t mourn me. He said it would be a hero’s death. He’d call me a Viking, and that would be that.”
“No offense, but your old man was a dick.”
I laugh gruffly. “No arguments there.”
“You can talk to me,” Graham says a moment later. “If you want. You know that, right?”
Graham never used to talk like this when we were young men fighting to make something of ourselves when all we cared about was training, grit, and determination.
But things have changed.
Graham has a wife, three happy and healthy kids, and a new career as a boxing coach. I’ve established my business, pursuing the passion my old man tried to beat out of me.
I ain’t having no artsy pansy for a son.
“If you’re worried about the Cartel, you can be honest with me. No judgment.”
“That Sante Muerte stuff was all over the news. My business is doing better than some of my rivals would like. I bet it’s them trying to scare me.”
Before laying eyes on Mia, I honestly didn’t care if Emil had returned, if he wanted to go toe to toe, for I refused him, repeatedly, telling him no when other men wouldn’t.
Before I saw Mia, I honestly didn’t care if it came to blood.
But now it’s like I’d be leaving somebody behind beyond Speeder. Like, if I died, it would matter to her….
Which is madness.
Madness.
It’s quickly becoming my new favorite phrase. Or the one I think most, at least.
“Something else, then?” Graham says.
“Tell me something,” I reply. “When you first met Lena, how did it feel? Was it like, if you didn’t have her, you’d die? Did you immediately know you wanted to have a family with her – to be with her forever?”
Graham laughs. “No, not even close. She hated my ass when we first met. And I didn’t care much. I was too busy focusing on my career. But then we started to get to know each other better, and it went from there. Why?”
Graham turns, causing me to raise the needle from his skin. He stares at me.
“Have you met somebody?”
He can’t hide the shock in his voice. He’s tried setting me up with women before, years ago now – I’ve stopped trying – and it never worked. I always stopped it before it could go any further, not wanting to inflict my coldness on them.
“Not met, exactly,” I say quietly, knowing I should stop.
“What do you mean?”
Graham’s one of my oldest friends, and we bled together during training.
I tell him about Mia, about seeing her photo, about wanting her.
I won’t go into detail about my absolute need for her, her destiny in giving me children, or her purpose in this world….
Her purpose is that she’s only mine and will only ever be mine. Just as I’ll never belong to anybody else, she will always be my woman.
“How can you be sure you like her?” Graham asks.
“I saw her photo. We texted a few times. And I read four of her poems.”
Other men might make a joke about me reading poetry, but Graham knows I’ve always read poetry and literature, even while I was fighting.
Poets used to be warriors, and I told him once when I was immersed in the Norse sagas. They used to be savages.
“And that’s enough?” Graham says, unable to hide the doubt in his voice.
“More than,” I tell him firmly.
“Then hell. I think you should go for it. All I know is you’re my friend, and I want you to be happy. I want you to find somebody. I’ve never made a secret about that.”
I almost tell him that I want to go for it, but she hasn’t texted me back. But I’ve shared enough.
I focus on the tattoo instead.
When this session is almost done, my phone vibrates from the metal table in the corner.
The rattling metal sound is like somebody tugging at my heart. Fantasies begin flooding into my mind of Mia whispering gentle poetry to our first child and the baby cradled in her arms. She looks at me as she speaks, her eyes filled with love, belonging, and contentment.