Read Fighting to Forget for Free Online Page B
Authors: Jenika Snow
Melanie’s memory alive, but he knew doing so was only detrimental. And he needed to stop, needed to finally allow himself to forget that bad, dark place. He’d go to her grave tomorrow, talk to her, tell her why he had to stop this, why he had to stop thinking about the past. He was going to die if he didn’t.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the building. The brick was rough, corroded from the weather, and it went through his shirt. The sting from the brick made him feel alive, and he pressed his back more firmly against it, loved that he had to grit his teeth as he shifted on his feet and the material of his thin shirt didn’t stop the abrasion.
He walked away from the wall, rubbed his eyes with his fingers, and breathed out.
He was so tired, but it had nothing to do with the fight. The exhaustion he felt was on the inside, deep in him and having no chance to escape.
He could see his truck in the distance, the shadows wrapped around it, yet the moon full and shining a silvery glow on it. The front of the building could be seen from where he’d parked, so he quickly made his way toward his vehicle before a mob formed outside. There were a few other fights going on, and the majority of the people would stay and watch all of them, but there were always stragglers that left after a particular match.
He stopped when he got to his truck, but heard the sound of someone trying to start their car. The engine wouldn’t turn over, the sound of it straining and struggling to start seeming loud in the still night. He could have left, not worried about all that shit, but this was a nasty part of town, and he didn’t want to run the risk of no one helping them.
Larson tossed his duffle in the back of the truck, and headed over to the small, light blue Honda. Inside he could only see the hands of someone holding onto the steering wheel, but he heard them cursing softly in a feminine voice. Larson tapped his knuckles on the glass of the driver’s side window, and the tension came from the person on the inside.
“I’m fine, but thanks,” the female said, muffled and kind of hard to make out.
“You seriously want me to leave you stranded here? You do know that this is a seedy part of town?” He rested his hand on the top of the car, closed his eyes, and rubbed his eyes again with his other hand. “Seriously, I can’t do that. Let me at least call you a cab if you need me to, or a tow truck.”
Several seconds passed, and she hadn’t moved, hadn’t responded.
“I’d tell you I’m not some serial killer or rapist, but you probably wouldn’t believe me, and rightly so.” He took a step back, staring at her through the closed window. “But I can make a call for some help if you need me to.”
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel for a second before finally releasing them and opening the door. He moved farther back, giving her space and, he hoped, a bit of comfort. First he saw her legs, saw the open toed shoes she wore, the jean capris, and then when she stood and he faced her fully he felt surprise fill him.
It was Tasha. “You work at the gym,” he stated without question, and felt stupid for even mentioning that. Of course he knew she worked at the gym. She was always staring at him, watching him, and he found her fascination with him … endearing and curious. She stared at him with wide eyes, her embarrassment clear on her face as her cheeks turned red.
She cleared her throat, looked around for a second, and then finally faced him again. “Yes, I work at Harlond’s place,” she said, her voice soft, almost too quiet.
He stared at her, curious as to why she was here, and also worried that she’d thought it was okay or safe to come here alone.
“You’re here by yourself?”
She nodded, looking over her shoulder when the entrance of the building slammed open and a group of men walked out, clearly drunk. “Yeah.”
“Why?” He was pissed, angry that she’d come here
He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the building. The brick was rough, corroded from the weather, and it went through his shirt. The sting from the brick made him feel alive, and he pressed his back more firmly against it, loved that he had to grit his teeth as he shifted on his feet and the material of his thin shirt didn’t stop the abrasion.
He walked away from the wall, rubbed his eyes with his fingers, and breathed out.
He was so tired, but it had nothing to do with the fight. The exhaustion he felt was on the inside, deep in him and having no chance to escape.
He could see his truck in the distance, the shadows wrapped around it, yet the moon full and shining a silvery glow on it. The front of the building could be seen from where he’d parked, so he quickly made his way toward his vehicle before a mob formed outside. There were a few other fights going on, and the majority of the people would stay and watch all of them, but there were always stragglers that left after a particular match.
He stopped when he got to his truck, but heard the sound of someone trying to start their car. The engine wouldn’t turn over, the sound of it straining and struggling to start seeming loud in the still night. He could have left, not worried about all that shit, but this was a nasty part of town, and he didn’t want to run the risk of no one helping them.
Larson tossed his duffle in the back of the truck, and headed over to the small, light blue Honda. Inside he could only see the hands of someone holding onto the steering wheel, but he heard them cursing softly in a feminine voice. Larson tapped his knuckles on the glass of the driver’s side window, and the tension came from the person on the inside.
“I’m fine, but thanks,” the female said, muffled and kind of hard to make out.
“You seriously want me to leave you stranded here? You do know that this is a seedy part of town?” He rested his hand on the top of the car, closed his eyes, and rubbed his eyes again with his other hand. “Seriously, I can’t do that. Let me at least call you a cab if you need me to, or a tow truck.”
Several seconds passed, and she hadn’t moved, hadn’t responded.
“I’d tell you I’m not some serial killer or rapist, but you probably wouldn’t believe me, and rightly so.” He took a step back, staring at her through the closed window. “But I can make a call for some help if you need me to.”
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel for a second before finally releasing them and opening the door. He moved farther back, giving her space and, he hoped, a bit of comfort. First he saw her legs, saw the open toed shoes she wore, the jean capris, and then when she stood and he faced her fully he felt surprise fill him.
It was Tasha. “You work at the gym,” he stated without question, and felt stupid for even mentioning that. Of course he knew she worked at the gym. She was always staring at him, watching him, and he found her fascination with him … endearing and curious. She stared at him with wide eyes, her embarrassment clear on her face as her cheeks turned red.
She cleared her throat, looked around for a second, and then finally faced him again. “Yes, I work at Harlond’s place,” she said, her voice soft, almost too quiet.
He stared at her, curious as to why she was here, and also worried that she’d thought it was okay or safe to come here alone.
“You’re here by yourself?”
She nodded, looking over her shoulder when the entrance of the building slammed open and a group of men walked out, clearly drunk. “Yeah.”
“Why?” He was pissed, angry that she’d come here