Read Fighter: A Bad Boy Romance for Free Online

old.”
    “Teenage pregnancy,” she says, looking at me with a sad smile. “With a man that is literally the Devil! I wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box.”
    “We all make mistakes,” I say, trying to keep this from turning into a therapy session.
    I turn off Route 1 and onto Winter, leaving the busy part of town behind. It’s a warm night, and I feel the cool, familiar breeze against my arm as we head out of town. This used to be the best part of my day, driving down this road on my way home to the smiling face of my daughter and the warm embrace of my wife.
    Now it’s just a terrible reminder. A reminder of what I’ve lost. A reminder of the life I used to have.
    I rub my eyes and sigh as we pass the familiar landmarks: Carnival Deli, Green Lives Market, the movie theatre. We’re getting closer. I can feel Jenny’s eyes on me, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s perceptive. She knows something’s up, but also that I don’t want to talk about it.
    “So what happened to your friends?” she asks, breaking the awkward silence.
    “Oh, who knows. Last I saw of them they were smiling like idiots with a pair of tits in their face.”
    “Not a lap dance fan?” she asks. “Aren’t most men?”
    “I’m not most men,” I let her know. “And I had some weird Russian chick who thought she had a nice ass.”
    A loud laugh escapes Jenny’s lips. “Natalia?”
    “Yeah!”
    “Yeah, she’s not Russian. Her real name’s Bree and she’s from Hartford. She’s usually the hostess, but she’s been dancing a bit lately.”
    “You’re joking!” I say.
    “Nope.”
    “So that’s why she sounded like someone had hit her over the head.”
    “Yeah, that accent is pretty terrible,” Jenny laughs. “But she thinks it’s somehow exotic or something. The rest of us have tried telling her, but she doesn’t listen.”
    I know I should say something back, or laugh at her joke, but we’re going over the Red Bridge now, and that means we’re getting close. I clench my free hand and bite my lip, doing my best not to lose it. We pass the old yellow mill and that’s when I see it.
    Right there, on the corner of Cherry St. and Main, the old blue house I used to live in with my wife and daughter. Everything in my mind tells me not to look, but I can’t help it. And as I gaze past Jenny, out the window, and see the grassy front lawn, the battered front porch and the tire swing hanging from the oak tree on the corner of the lot, all the memories come flooding back.
    Thankfully, we pass the house quickly, and I’m able to turn back and concentrate on driving, but Jenny has seen and I can feel her eyes on me.
    “Are you okay?” she asks me. I feel my heart jump in my chest, and my knuckles whiten around the steering wheel.
    “Fine,” I lie, stepping on the gas, eager to get to her place. I turn down Columbia Ave, and take the last right onto Maple. “Which one?” I say quickly.
    “Twenty-four,” she says. It’s clear she knows something’s wrong, but she’s not pressing the matter, which is good, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep it together. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid this part of town, and coming back here was not a good idea. I should have just let her take a cab.
    I spot her apartment building, a dingy old converted house that looks like it needed a remodeling at least fifteen years ago. I pull up to the front, my heart still battering around inside my chest.
    “So … thanks?” Jenny says beside me. I turn to her and give her the best smile I can.
    “No problem.” She looks at me hard for a second, like she wants to say something. I hold my breath. Finally, she decides against it and picks up her purse.
    “Okay, well I’d invite you in for a drink, but my dogs hate men and might end up killing you.”
    “That’s okay, I can’t stay,” I say. I need to get out of here. I need to leave this whole part of town in my rear view mirror.
    “All right,” she says. “Well.