Page 119 of Savior
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DEAN
Ihate that I said those things to her last night… That I let the wounds from my past with Lucinda, bleed out all over Vanna. She didn’t deserve that. I know she forgave me, but I still feel like shit. I meant it when I said I wished her slap hurt more. It was the look in her eyes that pained me the most. The guilt’s been eating at me all day. I deserve to hurt, for hurting her… I should fucking stew in it. It’s just that physical pain has always been easier for me to deal with. To mask and distract from the emotional pain that eats at your mind and soul.
Somehow, in the months after the death match in Myrtle Beach last summer, she managed to rope me into an unspoken agreement about my underground fighting. I don’t remember exactly when, or how, but I know she’d be disappointed in me if I were to seek out that particular release. The last thing I want to do, is disappoint her further.
I’m in the middle of locking up my shop for the night, when Viking strolls in the back door. He grabs a metal stool from beneath a work bench and sits down.
“So, you ready for this shit, bro?”
“Ready for what?” I ask.
He looks at me like he’s already bored with the conversation. “Axel’s first fight.”
“Fuck.” With everything that’s been going on, I completely forgot this was coming up as well.
“It’s in two weeks.”
“I know.” I force out a huff of air, hoping to decompress, but it does nothing to release any pressure. I know what I deserve, and I won’t be able to think straight until I get it.
“What’s up with you today?” he asks. “You’re standing there looking like you’re trying to figure out the Collatz Conjecture this time.”
“I get to go home to a hot meal, every night. A home cooked meal, she makes for me. In a house she keeps clean for me.”
“Sex whenever you want, too, right?” he adds. “Are you rubbing all that in my fuckin’ face or some shit?”
“Do I deserve all that?”
He looks at me quizzically now. “Is this a trick question?”
“Do me a favor.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have walked over here.” Viking gripes.
“Punch me.”
Viking jerks his head back, his expression contorting further with confusion. “Huh?”
“Do it.” I step up to him. “Punch me. Wherever you want.” I open my arms, giving him free rein.
“The fuck? Why would I just punch you?” he asks, staring at me like I’m crazy. But then the confused look on his face morphs into a more knowing expression. “What did you do?”
“We don’t need to talk about it. Just, take a free shot or two. I’ve got it coming to me. Let it rip.”
He hesitates for a moment, then asks, “Have you ever considered professional therapy, bro?”
“This is quicker.”
“I’m not just gonna hit you, Dean.”
“I made Vanna cry. She slapped me, but it wasn’t nearly enough.”
His eyes narrow. “How did you manage that?”
I wince as I confess, “Told her the kid better be mine.”
His scowl deepens. “You got a reason for saying some dumb shit like that?”
