Текст книги "Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood"

Автор книги: Meghan Quinn

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Twenty Two

My present…

For the last week, I’d worked my body ragged, getting ready for the opening of Justice. After I returned to the community center, I assessed what needed to be done and was surprised to see that in my absence, the girls had stepped up. The center was ready to open to the public, and the only thing that needed a final once-over was the Haze Room. Naturally, the girls left that to me.

If I was going to spend most of my time in the room teaching, I wanted it organized to my liking. I moved bleachers and bins around and added more equipment, along with chalkboards and more mats.

It was nine in the morning, and the center was set to open in half an hour. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I was still reeling from my demons, trying to overcome the ache in my chest I’d been living for years. Could a damaged soul try to save another damaged soul? Was that even possible?

“Looks good,” Jett said as he walked in and surveyed my changes. “I’m proud of you, Kace.”

“For what?” I asked, wondering what he could possibly be proud of. This center had been his idea. We used his money to create a safe haven. He’d been the mastermind, and I was the follower.

“For putting your reservations on hold and helping develop this center with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“The girls did a lot.”

“With your guidance,” Jett added. “Don’t discredit what you were able to accomplish here. Accept the compliment and be proud of yourself.”

It pained me, but I nodded and accepted Jett’s commendation. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome.” Jett smiled brightly. “I’ve got to admit, you’ve changed in the past week. I haven’t spoken to you much, but does this new you have to do with the apology you gave us the other day? Goldie is still dazed by it. She thinks she changed you with her dick talk.”

“Of course she does,” I shook my head. “She’s a piece of work, you know that?”

“Don’t have to tell me that. So what’s with the change?”

I shrugged and stared at the punching bags, wondering if I could get a quick workout in before the center opened.

“Blane said something to me that made sense. I was the one who made the mistake of punching Marshall. I am the one who decided to punish myself. I shouldn’t punish the people around me. You’ve all been accepting of me and my faults. It’s about time I treated you all the way you deserve to be treated.”

“Does that mean you’re going to start kissing me goodbye?” Jett asked with a grin.

“Both cheeks,” I joked, pointing to my face.

“The only way I like it.” Jett paused and put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “I know you’re dealing with a lot, Kace, but I need to tell you, your friendship over the years has been the best thing in my life. Well, until Goldie.”

“She does have the pussy.”

“Watch it,” Jett smirked. “Seriously though, the guilt you live with on a daily basis might not ever go away, and I understand that, but thank you for keeping my best friend around. I don’t know what I would do without you, Kace. I don’t say it enough, but you’re my fucking brother, and I would do anything for you.”

“I know.”

We exchanged a knowing look that spoke volumes about our friendship. No matter what came our way, we would always have each other’s backs. We might not have been brothers by blood, but we sure as hell were brothers by soul.

“Mind if I get a couple of quick hits in before we open up?”

“Go ahead,” Jett replied while eyeing the punching bags. “Break it in. This is your room now, Kace. Make it worth it.”

With pressed lips, I nodded and shook Jett’s hand. He pulled me into a brief hug then briskly walked away. It wasn’t Jett’s style to show much emotion, not even toward Goldie, but the woman had softened him, and it was a big day. I would take his exchange and hold it close to me. If anything, I would die knowing my past crime wouldn’t deny me a true friendship.

Without taping my hands, I quickly slipped on the boxing gloves I now kept stored in the Haze Room and went to the closest bag. I circled it once and bounced on my toes, looking for the perfect spot to strike. With a quick jab of my right hand, I punched the bag, causing it to swing.

The feel of my fist connecting with the sand bag enthralled me. Excitement coursed through my veins as I circled, stopped, and threw a couple of jabs at it. I bobbed to the left, bobbed to the right, and threw an uppercut straight into the bag, my signature move.

Heavy concentration settled over me as everything around me turned black. Like a couple, I danced with the bag, letting the swing from my punches turn into a rhythmic tango of sweaty athleticism. In a few short minutes, a sheen of sweat skimmed my skin just as my arms started to loosen up, allowing my punches to strike at full force.

Right hook, left hook, uppercut. 

Upper cut, upper cut, bob to the left, jab with the right. 

Move, Kace, move. 

From a distance I heard a crowd roar with every punch I made. My coach called, guiding me from the corner. Blood pounded in my head, and my punches became heavier. I focused and was instantly in the zone.

The smell of my opponent’s sweat came roaring back, the feel of my feet bouncing around the ring attacked my senses, and then and there, I felt the euphoric pleasure of being in the spotlight with my gloves taped to my wrists and a sorry-ass sucker bobbing in front of me.

Right hook, left jab, right uppercut, bob, right uppercut. 

Cheers erupted, and clapping echoed in my mind, a clapping that seemed all too real.

“You look good.”

I was mid-jab when I stopped, my vision cleared, and the lights from the room fogged my vision. Even though I had a hard time adjusting, I knew that voice like it was a constant record playing in my head. “What are you doing here, Lyla?”

“Wanted to wish you good luck on the opening,” she answered nonchalantly.

I stepped away so the punching bag was no longer in my way and glanced at the woman who’d burned herself into my soul.

Fuck me, was she gorgeous.

Her long hair was curled in light waves that hung over her shoulders. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that were cuffed right above her ankle boots. But it was her top that was really grabbing my attention. She was wearing a loose-fitting tank top that opened at the sides and dipped low in the front, giving me an eyeful of her navy blue bra that showcased her breasts to perfection. Her skin glittered under the lights, and I wondered if she thought of me often like I did of her.

I was weak around her; my brain scrambled whenever she was near. She crippled me, mind, body, and fucking soul.

“Thanks,” I replied, really not knowing what else to say. I shed my boxing gloves and tossed them to the ground. I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “You’re looking good yourself.” I nodded at her outfit.

Good didn’t even come close to describing how she actually looked.

“Thanks.” Her hands rested in her pockets and she looked around the room. When she was done scanning the room, she took a deep breath and took it upon herself to step closer to me.

“What are you doing, Lyla?” I asked, wondering why she kept coming back to me even though I treated her terribly every time we were together.

“It’s hard to get you out of my system, Kace. It’s hard to just let go.”

“It would be best if you did.”

“I know,” she replied, grabbing one of my belt loops. The heat pouring off her was instantly absorbed by my body, turning me on to an uncomfortable state. “I wish I could stay away, Kace. I told myself I didn’t need you, that I should move on, but I see the trouble in your eyes, the hurt, the need for someone to save you, and for the life of me, I can’t walk away from that.”

Did she know I secretly wanted her to save me? Could she see how much I needed her? Begged for her at night? Could she really see the desperation in my eyes, the heart-stopping ache I had in my chest to live a normal life?

“I know you don’t want me, Kace. I know you want to sequester yourself from the outside world. I get that, I’ve been there, but I just want you to know, no matter how many times you push me away, no matter how many times you’re awful to me, I will always be there for you. I want you to be happy, even if that means you’re not with me.”

My pulse raced in my chest. I pulled Lyla into my space by her hips. Her hand ran up my chest to my jaw where her fingers traced my rough scruff. Her fingernails ran across the bristly hair as her soft green eyes bored into my soul.

“You’re my addiction, Lyla.”

Distraught and confused, I pulled her head toward mine and gently glided my lips along hers. I was an addict, a junkie, a self-mutilator. This woman in my arms was all I’d ever wanted but everything I couldn’t have.

Blood pounded through me from the contact, and I wished in that moment God would decide to take me, because I would die a happy man. I could die feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch to grace this fucked up world.

But life wasn’t fair.

I pulled away and stared at her swollen lips. Gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous.

“It’s best if you move on, Lyla. I want you to move on.”

“How can you say that when your eyes speak another truth?”

“Because I know what’s best for you. You think you know me, you think you can handle my past, but you can’t. It’s not like there is some easy solution.”

“Excuse me?” A tall woman with brown hair walked into the room, looking a little confused. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was now past nine thirty. Shit.

I turned to Lyla and said, “Thank you for accepting me, but there is no future with me, babe. Best you move on.”

The pained look in her face gutted me once again, but I ignored the searing agony and switched my attention to the woman who’d interrupted us. Anguish ran up my spine as I tried to place the familiarity in the woman’s features.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“I’m looking for Kace Haywood.”

“That’s me. How can I help you, ma’am?”

“Mom, this place is awesome,” came a small voice. Running into the room and hugging her mom, a young girl looked up at her with adoring eyes.

My breathing stopped, my lungs seized, and my vision went dark.

It was Madeline and Linda, the family I’d destroyed.

Chapter Twenty Three

My present...

“Kace. Kace, are you okay?” Lyla shook my arm, trying to knock me out of my fog, but I couldn’t move.

I was numb, paralyzed, crippled from the sight before me. This couldn’t be real. I was living in a fucking nightmare. God wasn’t this cruel, was he?

“Kace,” Lyla called after me again.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” Madeline said, snapping me out of my stupor.

“Sorry.” I shook my head, trying to clear my disbelief. Gathering my strength, I said, “You reminded me of someone I used to know.” I lied, knowing fully well who was standing right in front of me.

Madeline visibly relaxed and gave me a giant toothless grin. Her two top front teeth were missing, freckles were scattered over her nose and cheeks, and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, but little wisps of hair stuck to her delicate face, giving her an angelic look.

She was a beautiful child.

Assessing her quickly, I caught a glimpse of a necklace that graced her delicate neck. My heart leapt from realizing she was wearing the necklace I’d recently given her. But it wasn’t just the necklace. She was using the purse I’d given her, as well as a T-shirt that was still large on her. She was using everything I’d given her…all the fucking gifts from years past.

Not only had she received my gifts, but she’d kept them and utilized them.

In an instant I felt weak, like I couldn’t possibly stand on my legs anymore.

“Do you need some water, Mr. Haywood?” Linda asked.

“Yes,” I replied, gathering myself. “Let’s get some and talk.” I turned to Lyla and pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Get out of here, babe. Go live your life.” She didn’t need to get tangled in the sick and fucked up web I was living. Confusion furrowed her brow as I walked away, trying to gather myself for the conversation I was about to have with Linda Duncan.

What could she possibly want? Did she know it was me dropping off the gifts? Had she seen me in the daylight this last time? If I hadn’t been such a drunken mess the night before, her gift would have been properly dropped off like all the other times.

Had she found out I was the one who’d killed her husband? Was she here to air out my past sin? Was she here to turn me in?

Every possible thought I could think of for her being here ran through my brain as I made my way to the water, wondering if this was my final moment before I was sentenced. I grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser next to the cooler and poured myself some water. With a shaky hand, I brought the cup up to my lips.

Taking large gulps, I finished in seconds and then crushed it in my palm, slightly easing some of the tension in my body.

“Sorry about that. The weather changed quickly this year. I wasn’t ready for the heat,” I said, coming up with some kind of excuse for my weird and awkward behavior.

“Not a problem. I know what you mean. I wasn’t ready for such a heat wave right away either, plus the humidity. It can be suffocating at times,” Linda agreed.

“Exactly,” I responded, feeling uncomfortable.

Linda was sweet. She was nice and very easy to talk to, almost too easy to talk to. I didn’t want to get familiar with her because knowing me, I would let go of all my past transgressions in a matter of seconds, thanks to the massive guilt weighing on me.

Last time I’d seen Linda in person was when I’d gone to see Madeline play tee-ball. At the time, Linda had been lankier. She’d seemed okay from afar, but I’d seen the weight of the world on her shoulders. Madeline was as cute as ever but a little more grown up. Linda had gained some weight. She looked healthy now, full and curvy.

I wondered if she had remarried. Had she even dated since she lost Marshall? What was her love life like? Did she even have one, or was she still devastated from what I’d done, from what I’d stolen from her?

“I’m sorry. How rude of me not to introduce myself. I’m Linda, and this is my daughter Madeline,” Linda said.

Linda held out her hand, and I took it in a quick shake and then glanced at Madeline, who was holding her hand out as well, showing off that toothy grin.

Damn, she was adorable.

“Hi, I’m Kace.” I took Madeline’s hand in mine, and she wrinkled her nose and looked at Linda.

“He’s all sweaty, Mom.”

“Madeline!” Linda reprimanded.

“Nah, that’s okay,” I said. “Your hands get sweaty in those boxing gloves. Should have warned you.”

“Well, that’s nice of you, but we need to mind our manners. Right, Madeline?”

“Right. Sorry, Mr. Kace.”

“Not a problem at all.” I chuckled.

Those freckles and that smile were going to be the death of me. Madeline was so dainty, so petite. The shirt she was wearing was one I’d bought her a few years ago with a map of New Orleans on it. Clearly it hadn’t been my best purchase since she was just fitting into it now, and because it was a shirt with a map of New Orleans on it, but apparently she liked it. Choosing presents was so out of my realm but, buying for a little girl was in another fucking galaxy of comprehension. Buying for a little girl just added pressure that resulted in crap purchases like the shirt she was wearing. Although she seemed to like the purse I’d gotten her since she still used it. It was ragged and torn in spots where little patches of ladybugs and rainbows covered up the holes.

Even though I didn’t want to feel happy she still used the items I bought her, I couldn’t help but feel slightly elated. She loved my presents.

She loved them. Either that or….

Shit, maybe she hadn’t been given anything else besides my presents because her mom couldn’t afford it.

That thought sent my stomach into another flip.

“Kace, are you sure you’re okay?” Linda placed her hand on my shoulder, and it almost felt like her skin was burning mine, burning me for my past sins.

“Fine. Umm, what can I help you with?” I asked, needing this little conversation to end sooner rather than later.

In the background, the community center bustled with excited patrons observing the different classes we offered as well as taking a tour of the facility, led by Goldie, of course, because who else would be more entertaining? Voices started to flow down the hallway, and I knew the tour would head my way soon, which meant having to get my shit together. I wouldn’t do the center any good if I was practically hyperventilating on the floor. Yeah, that would get people to sign up for my class.

“And this is the Haze Room,” Goldie said, opening the door and allowing a few people to come in.

A family walked in as well as a couple. They looked around in awe. Goldie made eye contact with me and gave me a questioning look. I shook my head for her to not ask anything, and thankfully she didn’t pursue it..

“And this is Kace. He is our instructor in the Haze Room. Rumor has it he’s ready to work his athletes hard, so if you come here, get ready to sweat.”

I smiled and said, “We accept all levels of athletes. No judgement here. I will work with you and your level of fitness.”

“He says that now.” Goldie winked and led the group out of the room.

“She’s so much fun,” Linda said, speaking of Goldie. “She was so sweet at the front desk, especially when directed us down here.”

“She’s pretty amazing,” I said, speaking the truth.

“Mom, can I go play on the mats?” Madeline asked, a pleading look in her eyes.

Linda looked at me for approval. I bent down to Madeline’s level and said, “Run wild, kid.”

“Awesome!” She threw her purse on the floor and ran around, doing somersaults and cartwheels on the mats.

“She has a lot of energy,” I pointed out.

“Tell me about it. That’s why we’re here. I want her to use that energy for good. I want her to learn how to work with others, take instruction, and apply herself.”

“She will definitely be able to learn that here. Do you have any classes in mind?”

“Self-defense,” Linda said without skipping a beat.

“Okay, well, we have a class she could join. It will probably be more adults than anything.”

“That’s okay,” Linda said while looking at Madeline. “The earlier she learns, the better. I’d also like to see her build confidence and put some meat on her bones. She needs to be able to defend herself.”

The way Linda was talking had me worried. Was Madeline being picked on at school? The mere thought had my blood boiling and my hands itching to take care of whoever was picking on her. No matter what their age or size was, I was ready to teach someone a fucking lesson.

“I know this is none of my business, but is she having trouble at school?”

Linda was lost in a daze, watching Madeline. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

It was as if Linda was just living in another world, completely lost in her thoughts. What was she thinking about? Was she trying to teach Madeline self-defense because her father had been attacked in a bar? It would make sense, but would Linda be all right with me teaching her daughter self-defense when I was the man who had murdered her husband?

I was getting nauseated, but I ignored it, needing to get this conversation over with. Repeating myself, I asked, “Is Madeline being picked on at school?”

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

“Oh, I just…The way you asked about self-defense, I thought that maybe she was going through something right now.”

“Just taking precautionary measures.”

Precautionary measures. Linda was trying to protect Madeline from people like me. Little did she know, she should stay as far away from me as possible.

“Do you think Madeline would be able to join the class? It’s very important to me that she learns to defend herself at a young age. I want her growing up to be a strong, confident woman.”

“Yup,” I said, swallowing bile. “We can get her into today’s class if you’re interested in starting right away.”

I was talking, but I really wasn’t understanding what I was offering. Was I really accepting Madeline into one of my classes?

“That would be great. What time does it begin?”

I looked at my watch. “Half an hour.”

“Perfect. I brought her gear. I can go get her changed and then we’ll be back.”

“Sounds good,” I replied. “Make sure you get a free water bottle up front.”

“Thanks. Can I sit and watch?”

“Yup, that’s why we have the bleachers. You can join in as well if you would like.”

“I’ll think about it,” Linda said a little shyly. “Come on, Madeline. We have to get you ready for class.”

“Awesome!” Madeline called while fist-pumping the air. She skidded across the floor, grabbed her bag, and headed out of the room with her mom.

“See you in a few,” Linda called out.

“Yeah, see you in a few, Mr. Kace,” Madeline said, waving and walking away with her mom.

The minute the door closed, I locked it and ran to the trashcan, where I threw up all my past sins and regrets.

How the fuck was I going to get through today without losing my shit?

***

My heart hammered in my chest, sweat dripped down my back, and my throat was clogged with emotion, a fucking unyielding feeling that was making it hard to breathe.

Watching Madeline prance around the Haze Room, wearing boxing gloves entirely too big for her noodle arms, smiling and waving at her mom after every punch she made to the bag, caused me to be physically nauseous.

I didn’t know why I felt so ill. I should have been happy she was a well-rounded little girl with a heart of fucking gold and a smile that made me want to give her the world.

But all I felt was the sick need to bury myself in a case of Maker’s and wash away the smiling image of Madeline Duncan.

I could feel myself drowning, gasping for air, wondering when the burning ache in my chest would cease to exist.

This pain I was feeling, I’d brought upon myself. I couldn’t get over God’s sick plan to bring Linda and Madeline into my life.

“Looking good over here,” Jett said as he clasped my shoulder. “You got them working hard.”

It was a small class of five people. Linda decided to join in and they were all working on their jabs right now while I tried to calm my racing heart.

“Yeah,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

Madeline threw her little arms at the bag with horrible form, and I knew I had to correct her so she didn’t hurt herself, but my feet were cemented in place, permitting me from moving forward.

“You all right?” Jett asked, knowing me too well.

“No,” I answered honestly. “I’m not fucking all right.”

Jett leaned closer. “Want to talk outside?”

“Can’t. Teaching a class.”

“Are you really? Because it looks like you’re standing here in absolute—”

“Madeline, stay on your own bag,” Linda called, interrupting Jett. Madeline was running around punching all the bags in the area, causing a fucking adorable ruckus.

Jett swung his gaze to where Madeline and Linda were, assessed the mother-daughter pair, then turned his back on them and got in my face. “Is that…”

I confirmed his suspicions, not letting him finish.

Jett ran his hand over his face and muttered, “Holy shit. What are they doing here?”

“Linda wants Madeline to learn self-defense. She thinks it’s important. Given the way her father died, I don’t blame Linda for forcing her daughter into the class.”

“And you said you were going to help? What the hell were you thinking?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, can’t help you since I’m the one who killed your husband.’ I didn’t have many options, Jett.”

“I guess you didn’t,” he said, turning to look at Madeline. She was leaning against a wall, wiping her forehead with her forearm and catching her breath. “She’s kind of adorable.”

“I fucking know,” I admitted. “What do I do?”

I was at a loss. I had no clue how to handle this situation. I needed a lifeline. I needed someone to tell me how to handle this, because right about now, I couldn’t breathe, let alone figure out how to talk to Madeline.

“Do the right thing,” Jett answered. “Swallow your demons, step up, and teach the girl. What happened in your past was not your fault, but you have a responsibility now to see it through.”

Jett was right. I had a responsibility, and it was to take care of Madeline. If that meant pushing past the bile that rose from the mere thought of forming a bond with this little girl, then I would.

“You’re right,” I said while pushing past Jett and heading over to Madeline, who was still leaning against the wall with her arms at her sides and her head pressed back.

“Hey,” I said while squatting down to her level.

“Hi there, Mr. Kace,” Madeline said, perking up. “These gloves are heavy.”

“Well, they’re the wrong size. I told you they wouldn’t work for you.” She’d insisted on wearing them.

“I just wanted to wear the ones you were wearing when you demonstrated. You looked so tough.”

A numbing tingle started to crawl up my back. I can do this, I repeated over and over in my head.

“To get tough, you have to start from the beginning. How about we take off the gloves and put on the little hand-wraps instead,” I suggested. “Then we can work up to the gloves.”

“Those gloves are black.” She crinkled her nose. “Don’t you have pretty ones?”

I looked over at the hand-wraps and shook my head no. “Sorry, kiddo. I only have black ones right now, but I will see what I can do for you for future classes. How does that sound?”

“All right.” She flashed me that toothless grin, melting me on the spot.

For that smile, I would have given her the fucking world.

We walked over to the gloves. She was like a shadow I couldn’t shake ever since my fist had connected with her father, and right now, that shadow was stronger than ever.

I pulled out the smallest hand-wraps we had and bent down. She placed her hand on my shoulder. With a serious look, she held out her other hand and said, “I’m glad you’re here teaching me, Mr. Kace. I like you.” She paused for a second and then continued talking when I helped her put the hand-wraps on. “I don’t have a dad, but if I did, I would want him to be like you.”

Sweat broke out on my skin, self-loathing started to eclipse my thoughts, and pain erupted from the backs of my eyes as I tamped down the tears that wanted to flow.

“You’re quiet though,” she continued. “And you make funny faces.”

“Funny faces?” I asked, barely able to work my vocal cords.

“Yeah, you’re always like this.” She put her fists on her hips, curled her lip, and squinted her eyes at me.

If I hadn’t been feeling like someone had picked me up and ripped me into shreds, I would have laughed at her impression of me. “I don’t think I look like that.”

“Well, not exactly,” she answered, now with both wraps on her hands. She swatted at the air and bounced around me. “Stinging flowers and floating bees,” she said, punching some more.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You know, Mamala-ladi.”

“Mama-what?”

“Boom, boom, boom,” she said, striking my thigh. “I’m floating like a bee. Look at me go.” She bounced around some more and then it clicked.

“Do you mean Muhammad Ali?”

“Sure,” she said while dancing around some more, adding some pathetic kicks to the mix.

“I think you meant you ‘float like a butterfly and sting like a bee’.”

“Sure. Pow, pow, pow. I’m a champion.”

I steered her to the hanging bags as she continued to bounce. “Easy there, killer. Let’s get you punching correctly first.”

I spent a good ten minutes with her, ignoring the overwhelming feeling of discomfort and violence. Violence for the position I’ve put Madeline in, a life without a father, a life comparing other men to what she thinks she would want when it came to a dad.

The pain was consuming; the heartache was too much. There was only one way I knew how to get rid of this all-encompassing feeling of complete hatred for myself. It was time to call the boys.