Sacrifice Read online

  I watch her eyes get heavy and I yawn, snuggling down beside her and resting my head on the top of hers. My gaze catches the framed photo of Gage and Crew on her dresser.

  They look so young and carefree in the picture, their gorgeous faces grinning at the camera. I remember snapping the picture after a long day at the beach and listening to my friends behind me whisper about how they could be models.

  The picture is faded, the victim of many years and even more spilled sippy cups. Everleigh used to push it around the house in her little shopping cart. When she outgrew that, she demanded it be in her room.

  Her princes.

  I can’t help but grin as I close my eyes and remember seeing the two of them for the first time.

  “They’re coming over here,” Lauren said, elbowing me in the ribs.

  I felt my cheeks heat. I quickly turned my back to the boys walking our way. I spotted them earlier as we walked around Castle Island, an island in South Boston. We spent the day there, hanging out by the water, having picnics, and just generally being teenagers. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at them all day.

  They weren’t like most boys I’d seen before. Their bodies were harder, leaner, more chiseled than other guys our age. It wasn’t just their physical appearance that captured my attention, but rather the way they carried themselves. They walked around the park with total confidence, like they weren’t scared of anything.

  My group of friends began to giggle and I turned my head slowly to see the two of them standing in front of us.

  “Hey, girls,” one of them said.

  I snuck a quick look, breathing in the musk of their cologne which was tinged with the smell of sweat from the hot sun.

  The one talking was slightly taller than the other. His hair was a darker shade of brown, his eyes a brighter blue. His grin was kind, his eyes wise.

  The other one had close-cropped hair, a set of brooding eyes, and a cocky smile that made my knees turn to goo. His eyes glimmered and a shiver danced over my flesh, despite the heat.

  “I’m Gage Gentry.” The taller one smiled and I couldn’t help but look away. They were too much. Just their proximity made me feel powerless, yet powerful at the same time. I’d never felt that way before . . . and I liked it.

  “This is my brother, Crew.”

  Crew smiled at my friends and their giggling went up a few notches. I didn’t giggle. I could barely catch my breath.

  I gave him a quick once-over. He pressed his full lips together in an undeniable smirk. He raised his eyebrows as if to challenge me somehow.

  That was a challenge I never should have taken.

  “And Uncle Crew?” my daughter sleepily asks again.

  I fight myself from telling my five-year-old daughter that her beloved Uncle Crew is anything but a prince. He’s the exact opposite of Gage in almost every way. I know this firsthand.

  Although they shared blue eyes and inherent charisma, Crew Gentry is reckless and hedonistic. He goes after the things he wants the moment he wants them with little regard to how it might affect him five years down the road or the people around him today. And even though he was once named the best up-and-coming fighter in the country, he’s never fought for the right things.

  Ever sighs and I feel my spirits sink a little with hers. I know she loves him. I know that, in his own way, Crew loves her, too. But I also know that with him, that just isn’t always enough.

  “Your uncle a prince?” I scoff. “Something like that, baby girl. You should go to sleep.”

  “I’ll try. My belly still hurts though.”

  I kiss her on the forehead and pull the comforter up over our bodies. We lie quietly, the silence pierced by shouting from the street below.

  I begin to hum a Maroon 5 song that we heard earlier in an attempt to drown out the commotion. I hate her living in this shitty apartment, but it was all I could afford since Gage’s death. I wish we could’ve stayed in the little two-bedroom we bought in Cambridge, but with no life insurance to go on, it was impossible.

  I never thought I’d be so attached to something materialistic, especially since I’ve never had anything in my life. But that little house was the one place that held our memories, a time capsule of our lives together. The house was the first thing we purchased together, the place we brought Everleigh home from the hospital. We shared kisses under the mistletoe in the hallway, Ramen dinners in the kitchen by tea-candle light.

  With every box I packed when we moved, I added a bucketful of tears. Would the memories fade as time went on? Would I forget the smell of his cologne in the bathroom? Would I forget the dip in the mattress on his side of the bed? Leaving that house felt like I was leaving Gage behind. The only thing that got me through that time was knowing I had two connections to him—Everleigh and my wedding ring. And when I left the little house on Impala Avenue for the last time, I left a piece of my soul there.

  Ever’s breath evens out beside me. I should get up and clean the kitchen, but I don’t. I know the sink is full and dinner is still sitting out, but I don’t get up. My body is worn out and objects as soon as I even think about moving. Working all day at One Boston Place as a secretary and then a couple of weekly night shifts at Ficht’s Diner has left me drained. But draining my energy into those dead end jobs is the only way we can continue to live, even in this crappy apartment.

  The softness of the bed cushions my weary body and my eyes flutter closed. I see Gage’s face immediately, as I always do. He’s laughing, the timbre of his voice comforting me.

  My body heats like it’s wrapped in a warm blanket. I breathe and enjoy the memories of a time when my life was exactly what I wanted it to be. It was a time when my life was more than I ever imagined it could be. I felt safe. Loved. Prioritized. Gage made that possible.

  The highlight reel begins—images of him swimming in the sea, cooking his favorite cheesecake recipe that he never shared with me, coming in from work in his suit and tie—all flash like fireworks.

  I drift to sleep, my arms holding my precious daughter and my heart holding precious memories.

  CREW

  The door chimes as I open it. The interior of Shenanigan’s, my favorite bar in Boston, is poorly lit and I give it a second to let my eyes focus. Jordyn, the redhead that works most nights, looks up as she pours a drink. She smiles and winks before turning her attention back to her job.

  Green lights hang haphazardly along the glass behind the bar, Kings of Leon humming through the speakers. This place is laid back and out of the way, a hole-in-the-wall as far as bars go in this city. My kind of place.

  I take a deep breath, letting the warm, thick air soothe my lungs. The handful of miles I ran before coming here really worked me over. Running five or six miles every day is an unshakable habit I‘ve formed after years of training. It centers me, lets my mind take a break from the fuckery that is typically on auto-pilot streaming through my consciousness. It takes me back to a better time, to a time when my future was ahead of me. When anything was possible.

  The clink of pool balls cracks through the small brick building. Mixed with the salty smell, it strangely puts me at ease. I make my way through the patrons and spot Will at our usual table in the corner. It’s a little quieter back there and we have an unobstructed view of the television in the corner. I can still see the door and who’s coming in and out from that position.

  Will brings a bottle of some Craft beer to his lips, his arm tucked around a girl I’ve never seen before. Adam and Dane, a couple of kids in here all the time, are standing at the table, roaring with laughter at something Will said.

  I nod at them. They’re two guys I can tolerate because we have a lot in common. I don’t know this because they told me. I know this because I can see it in their eyes. They have respect, the natural ability to know when to shut the fuck up.

  You don’t get that from a babysitter. You get that from the street. It’s not something that’s taught. It’s something that’s learned. You figure out
how to navigate the world most people never see by keeping quiet and watching, listening, knowing who is in control of a situation.

  “Heya, Crew.” Will smirks while Blondie next to him plants drunken kisses on his neck, letting her tongue trail up his five-clock shadow.

  “What’s up?” I pull out a chair and sit. Blondie looks my way, eye-fucking me through her lashes.

  “Hey, Crew,” Adam says, feeling me out. “You watching the Pampa-Reyes fight this weekend?”

  I shrug. Fighting is my passion . . . or it was. Sometimes I can watch it and enjoy it and sometimes it just tastes too fucking bitter.

  “My money’s on Pampa,” Will says, his eyes going wide at something Blondie is doing to him beneath the table. He is a huge fighting fan and always knows what’s going on in the fighting world. Back in the day, Will fought alongside Gage and me a time or two. He wasn’t bad, but he had a mom and dad at home to report back to. That kept him out of a lot of trouble.

  “Yeah, I agree,” Dane says. “Pampa’s ground game is strong. If he takes Reyes to the mats, I don’t think he has a chance.”

  “Pampa will never get to the mats. Reyes will knock him out first.” I grab a cigarette out of Will’s pack on the table and work it over with my fingers. “Even if he doesn’t, Reyes needs this more. He lost his last two fights in close decisions.”

  “Reyes, huh?” Another guy whose name I don’t know appears beside Adam. “They both suck ass. Whoever wins will fight Davidson and that motherfucker is a beast.”

  Will and Adam both look at me immediately, waiting for my reaction.

  “Easy there, Slick,” Dane warns. “You’re ‘bout to step in a pile of shit and you don’t even know it.”

  “That’s fact as fuck,” Will laughs.

  Black, spiky hair and a diamond stud in one ear, Slick grins like he’s just seen two whales fuck. This goofball is why I normally try to avoid the masses—too many motherfuckers runnin’ around with a Hit-Me face that I can’t tolerate.

  I probably should’ve stayed home tonight, but I had to find something to occupy my mind. I dreamed about Gage last night. We were sitting on the beach, watching the waves come in, and he told me I needed to get my shit together. I laughed because it was something my brother always said to me. He took a handful of sand and let it run slowly through his fingers. I watched the grains drop onto the pile of shells below.

  “Get your shit together, little brother. It’s time you man the fuck up. I’m counting on you.”

  I’d woken up in a cold sweat. I didn’t dream about Gage much, not at all, really. But there was something about the way he said it, the clarity of his voice, the intensity of his gaze that left me feeling light in my stomach all day. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t get the sound of his voice out of my brain.

  I look up at Slick. He grins and tosses an arm around the shoulder of Dane. Dane sidesteps him and watches me nervously.

  “Davidson? Is he a fighter?” I twirl the cigarette in my hand before flicking it to the table.

  Slick snorts. “Is he a fighter? Are you serious? He’s the baddest motherfucker I’ve seen in a long time. He doesn’t just win fights, he wins by murder. They’re saying he’s unbeatable and I believe it.”

  I tilt my head and look up at him, chuckling.

  “You’re probably gonna want to shut your suck,” Will smirks.

  “My suck?”

  “You know, your suck. Your mouth. Your cock sucker,” Will laughs. “Don’t let your mouth buy something your ass can’t pay for.”

  “Dude, do you even know who this is?” Adam interjects, shaking his head. “This is Crew Gentry, man. The only man to beat your so-called ‘baddest motherfucker.’”

  “No shit? You’re Crew Gentry?” He laughs. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

  “Now is the time Slick stops running his suck and buys Crew Gentry a beer,” I smile, a warning buried just under the surface.

  His face pales. “Hey! Whatever Gentry’s drinking is on me!” he shouts to Jordyn. He turns back and looks me up and down. “Yeah. I can see it now. You’re still solid as a rock. Man, I still can’t believe you didn’t go Pro-”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, cutting him off. I’ve been over it so many times in my head, not even counting the times I’ve spent reliving it through my trainers, or the doctors, or random guys that think they know something about fighting. I don’t need to hear his jibberish about what went wrong or right or what-the-fuck-ever. It’s obvious this punk knows nothing about fighting besides getting a foot up his ass.

  “Let’s go grab a drink,” Dane says to Slick, clearly reading me like the street smart kid I know him to be. He can sense what’s about to happen if Slick doesn’t shut the fuck up. “Come on.”

  “I want to talk to Crew.” Slick starts to pull a chair to the table and I look away.

  “Trust me, man,” Dane says, “no, you don’t. Let’s go.”

  I know Slick’s watching me, but I don’t look up. I don’t want to chit-chat. Hell, I don’t even wanna humor this guy. This kid’s going to some Ivy League college, Mommy and Daddy payin’ the bill. He’s a silver spoon-fed asshole that thinks he knows something and I’m not interested in playing nice.

  “Nice to meet ya,” Slick says. He follows Adam to the front of the bar. I hear him whisper something about a legend and I roll my eyes.

  “I was thinking you weren’t gonna show,” Will says, drawing my attention back to him. He turns his head from Blondie, but she grabs the sides of his face to turn him towards her.

  “You wanna get out of here?” Blondie coos, her tone soft like she’s talking to a baby.

  “Where have ya been?” he asks me, ignoring her.

  “Hey. Let’s get out of here. Didn’t you hear me? Why aren’t you answering me, baby?”

  Will looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “I was just lettin’ you know this conversation was over.”

  She gasps. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Why don’t you run along?” He scoots his chair away from hers like she didn’t just have her hand down his pants.

  I laugh at his antics, par for the course for my cousin. If this chick thought she was going to call the shots with Will, she was wrong.

  “Asshole,” she mutters. She stands and walks away, leaving a trail of cheap perfume behind.

  I accept a cold bottle of Sam Adams from Jordyn. She asks if I need anything else and I laugh, knowing exactly what she means. This girl can suck a dick like a porn star.

  “I’ll let you know,” I tell her. She squeezes my shoulder before heading back to the bar.

  “Who’s Blondie?” I ask Will.

  “I don’t fucking know. I sat down. She sat down and grabbed my cock. I didn’t really need her name for that, now did I?”

  Will runs a hand through his short, brown hair, his eyes lit up in amusement. He smiles wide, his perfectly straight teeth shining.

  “Where have you been, anyway? I expected you to show up an hour ago.”

  “I had to drop off some stuff at Julia’s.”

  “I’ve told ya I can do that anytime you need me to,” he says with a smirk.

  “She’s not exactly the type of girl that someone sitting in a shitty bar, drinking Craft beer could handle. And all bullshit aside, if I ever find out you said something to her, I will break your face.”

  “Dude, when I went to get her car yesterday, she about fuckin’ castrated me. She was wicked pissed. I could see it through her pretty little smile.”

  “That’s Julia.”

  “How can something so small be so ferocious?”

  My chest stills because I know exactly how that’s possible. When you’re left alone, your world ripped from under you, you start fighting.

  Fighting to live.

  Fighting to survive.

  Fighting to protect what little you have left.

  This I know all too well.

  JULIA

  The wind zips by, sending a ripple of
goosebumps beneath my thin jacket. The sun is setting behind us as we head up the walkway to our building. Everleigh jumps into a puddle, splashing water all over my shoes.

  “Quit, Ever,” I say, tugging on her hand. “I don’t have on rubber boots like you.”

  “Sorry, Mommy,” she says, wrinkling her nose at me.

  She’s too cute to be mad at.

  I hold her hand tightly and ignore the catcalls from the idiots across the street. The step in front of our building has been fixed. I wince, hoping Crew didn’t piss off the landlord.

  Again.

  I rip the late notice off the door and fumble with the lock, trying to get the key to twist so we can get inside. Ever squeezes my hand and I know she senses my uneasiness. This morning, before we left the house, she came into the bathroom for me to braid her hair. I’d been crying. I played it off as allergies and she didn’t ask questions but I knew she didn’t believe me. I hated lying to her, but I didn’t want to tell her it was the anniversary of her daddy’s death and I was missing him so much I could barely breathe.

  The lock finally turns, so I push open the door and guide Everleigh inside. “Take your coat and backpack to your room, okay? I’ll get something started for dinner.”

  “Okay, Mommy. Can I color a little while in my room?”

  “Sure, baby girl. That’s fine.”

  She dashes down the hallway. I kick off my wet shoes and head into the kitchen. I wish I had a glass of wine to help me relax, but that certainly wasn’t in the budget. I can’t think of the last time I had a couple of extra dollars to splurge on something that wasn’t absolutely necessary.

  I toss the landlord’s note on the table, a reminder my rent is two days overdue. I’ll have to call him tomorrow and let him know I’ll pay him this week. I try not to think too much about it; late notices and overdue bills are a part of this new life I live as a single mother. And if I think about it too much today on top of everything else, I’ll probably have a meltdown and I can’t afford to break down at this point either.