Page 57 of Knuckles

“One step at a time,” I whisper, and he kisses me again before grabbing my bag and repeating, “One step at a time…”

“You’re not allowed to hit my dad by the way,” I say as he guides me out of the room, and he groans, making me giggle for the first time in weeks.

I haven’t been myself, I know I’m struggling with the fact I was pregnant, that I lost our baby, I’m struggling with the fact that I’m covered in scars but I know with this man, we’ll get through everything because he’s my rock, my absolute world.

Chapter 24

Knuckles

I roll my shoulders as I drop the weights on the floor and try to ignore the pain in my stomach, the pull that is telling me not to push shit and I grit my teeth ignoring it.

I’m sweating like shit, my arms are burning, my stomach fucking hurts and I’m irritated as fuck. Instead of training, getting ready for my fight tomorrow night. It is with some skinny fuck just to get me back into the groove of things. I’m blowing off steam, trying to control the anger that always creeps up, the anger only my girl can control.

My girl was supposed to be here half an hour ago, but instead she messaged that she was going to be late because of another online interview at a fucking school to teach art. She doesn’t want to do that, it doesn’t bring out her passion. She won’teven entertain opening her own gallery because of money even though I said I’d fork out for the building.

She shut me down before I could even finish the fucking sentence, she won’t lean on me.

Damn woman and her damn pride.

I shake my head as my irritation builds, the itch to get eyes on my girl pulling me.

I hate being away from her, and I know it isn’t healthy, but she’s only been out of the hospital for five days. I need eyes on her at all times, I need to know she’s fucking safe, especially with Masters still around. Fuck, she even denied a prospect to follow her because she knows I don’t have trust in the fucking club, the same club who is doing everything they can to keep us here.

Kodi has had several online interviews in different states for art galleries, but every single one of them has come back with a decline, which I know has dampened her spirit. It just pisses me off because I know Trick is the reason they’ve all turned her away.

The club has realized that wherever my girl goes, I’ll be following and I know they don’t want me to leave, I know Clark doesn’t want to lose her friend.

I roll my neck, my shoulders aching. Wherever I am, the brothers pop up like unwanted dandelions, especially if I’m at home with my girl. One by one, the brothers will come up with excuses as to why they had to pop by, even interrupting my alone time with her in the fucking tub. And don’t get me started on Trick, the fucker tried using Willow yesterday, who begged for a sleepover with her favorite auntie, stating she’d be sad to see us go.

Fucker.

Sighing, I bend to pick up the weights to put them away knowing if I do anymore then I won’t be able to fight tomorrow. I pause when the door to the gym opens and look but instead ofbeing my girl, my fucking mother of all people walks in shocking the living shit outta me. For the first time ever, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking unsure of herself.

I stand up straight as we lock eyes, and she gives me a grimace.

Her face is clean of makeup, and fuck, she looks normal, like a mother should look, she looks fucking weird.

“Hi,” she whispers as she stops before me, and I swallow at how weird she fucking looks.

“What can I do for you, Mom?” I ask as I bend and grab the weights, trying not to grunt at the pull in my stomach.

“Five minutes of your time,” she says quietly as I put the weights away and then walk over to the ring.

“Why?” I ask as I cross my arms over my chest.

“Because I’m so goddamn sorry for everything,” she chokes as her eyes tear up and I scoff, I can’t help it, making her flinch but I don’t back down.

Fucking years I was nothing to her but a pest and suddenly she gets kicked out of the club and she wants to talk? She wants to apologize?

Yeah, fuck that.

I shake my head before I hold my arms out. “Look at my body, Mom, beneath the tattoos, sorry doesn’t cut it,” I state, and she flinches seeing the raised scars. “You abused me, neglected me, and made me feel so fucking unwanted. You let the brothers fuck you in front of me, forcing me to watch, you brought dangerous men to the apartment, fuck, you starved me whenever I wanted a hug!”

She lets out a sob. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, “There a-are no excuses, how I acted, how I treated you, I’m so sorry, Liam, so goddamn sorry.”

I lock my jaw and shake my head at her theatrics, which seem to be really fucking convenient right now. She knows all I’ve ever wanted is to be loved and it’s so fucking hard because she’s stillmy mom, and I can’t just shut off my fucking emotions. I can’t hate her even though I really fucking want to, but I also won’t be falling for this act.

“I-I was a shitty mother, I know this,” she croaks, “I know you may never forgive me, but I-I, please, I just, I want to get to know my son, I nearly lost you and…”