Page 84 of Meant for You

“You acted—reacted—like you always do, like you did with Tanner at the lake, with those guys at the bar. You let your anger take over and you risked everything…God, everything, Dane.”

I curled my fingers tighter around my phone and paced to the other side of my apartment, staring down at the street below. She was right. I wanted to bang my head against the damn window frame. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Baby girl—”

“Don’t.”

We both stayed quiet a long time, her disappointment loud and clear.

Finally, she said, “I’ll come home when I’m ready. You need to give me some time, some space.”

She wanted space, from me. I was in physical agony at not having her close, and she wanted space. That hurt, despite the way I’d fucked up, despite the way I’d ruined everything. I was smothering her all over again, only this time she recognized it first and was going to kick my needy ass to the curb, like I always knew she would.

“Yeah,” I rasped. “I get it.” I was surprised I got out the fucking words without breaking down.

“I need to go,” she said. “I’ll call you.”

In other words, leave her the fuck alone until she was ready to deal with my dumb ass.

“Goodbye, Dane,” she whispered.

And disconnected.

* * *

“You punch like my grandmother,” Grifter bit out, holding the bag in place while I slammed my fist into it. “Then again, bitch had a mean right hook, so maybe not her. Jesus, you need to focus. You want your ass handed to you this weekend?”

I plowed my taped-up fists into the leather with more force, grunting from my gut, releasing the anger still so volatile and deep inside me. It was always there. Always. Boxing helped me fight it back, helped me regain the control I needed, release that rage that I’d had for most of my life.

Everly still wasn’t home. Almost another week had passed and nothing. Not one fucking thing. I was losing her.

I threw two more punches as hard as I could, teeth gritted, bone and muscle jarring.

Her aunt’s words echoed through my head. “You’re selfish and violent and untrustworthy. You will never be good enough for her.” I’d always known it, of course I did.

But I thought I was done hurting her. Apparently not. It seemed there was no low where I was concerned. I kept finding another level. Fuck, deep down I knew that my protectiveness—shit, my obsession—with Everly was a problem.

There was something wrong inside me. I was wrong in every way I could be.

Wrong for her.

Somehow I’d fought the driving need to go to her, to call her and text her nonstop. It was easier with Grifter here. He’d called to shoot the shit and had worked out instantly that something was up. He showed up a couple of hours later and had barely left me the fuck alone.

He could only stay a few nights, and I knew something was up with him and the club. He’d buzzed off his hair and by the looks was growing a beard, but he wasn’t talking.

“Returning the favor,” he’d said when he knocked on my door. He’d been through a lot in his life and went to some seriously dark places at times. I’d been there for him more than once.

“You’re done,” Riff said as I continued to smash my fists into the bag.

“No,” I bit out and got in another bone-jarring hit.

“Dane. You’re done,” he said again.

I shook my head and hit the bag again.

“Yeah, motherfucker, you are,” he said, shoved the bag aside, and tackled me to the floor.

I tried to shove him away before delivering a blow to the side of his head, and he returned the favor, making my fucking ears ring.