Page 21 of Unbreakable Thread

The night we left the gym, I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted metal. Two days until the fight. Max couldn’t afford distractions now. I’ve gotten good at swallowing pain. At wearing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes while something inside me quietly collapses. I haven’t been to the gym since then.

With every kiss he gives me, I wonder if it will be the last. My body always reacts to him like it’s desperate for every brush of his lips on my skin. Last night, his tongue traced every curve of me until he opened my thighs. My back arched like a bow drawn taut. That’s the one thing I can’t fake—how much I want every part of him. The look on his face as I pleasure him with my mouth is always my favorite, knowing I’m the one drawing those sounds from him. His body moves into mine like he has all the time in the world, and I hold on like I know we don’t. We come together, and for a moment, nothing else exists. Max whispers sweet nothings and falls into a deep sleep.

I lay staring at the ceiling, Carlos’s words circling. “If you love him, let him go. He doesn’t need baggage. Have you seen his scars? You need to work on yourself.” Somewhere between the dark and the dawn, sleep finally took me. Dreaming of Max holding a baby girl in his arms and a small boy climbing his long legs. His face held an expression I had never seen on him before. Pure, uncomplicated joy. My heart swelled and then split clean open. The woman running to him wasn’t me. Her face was blurry, but that body didn’t belong to me. I woke up sick to my stomach, knowing he’d bear kids with another woman. I vomited until there was nothing left. Luckily, Max had left for his morning run.

“¿Qué tienes?” Isabella asks, bringing a hot cup of coffee to her mouth.

“I’m tired,” I respond. I’m tired of being a train wreck. I’m tired of being confused. I’m not trying to be a pity-me kind of girl. Everything that has happened to me is a valid reason to feel this way, at least that is my excuse.

“Go home, mija. Get rest. This weekend is going to be crazy.”

Crazy indeed. My anxiety has been through the roof. I pray he wins and remains unharmed. “Do you mind if I leave a little early?” I unhook my apron. “I forgot I need to pick up Daisy from the groomers. Max has his interview today.”

My words die off when a pair of dusty riding boots stomp in. My gaze climbs the tower of a man with a black graphic t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and a cigarette dangling on the top of his ear. His jet-black hair is slicked back with something expensive and glossy, each strand catching the light like obsidian. He could pass as a Viking with those broad shoulders and that jawline sharp enough to cut glass. No, I guess maybe a biker—the kind who owns the road and knows it, with forearms roped with veins and a stance that suggests the world has tried and lost. In the far corner, the women who were reading have forgotten their books.

His palms press against the countertop. A neck tattoo climbs one side. My anxiety skyrockets. What if he’s one of Daniel’s men? My mouth is too parched to say anything. I stare at his hands on the counter. Tattoos decorate them.

The man clears his throat, and my gaze trails back up. He removes his shades, which reveal his dark eyes—a scar on the side of his eye.

“Can I help you?” My voice comes out in a squeak.

His lips turn up. “You may.” His grin widens, showing all his teeth. I’m not sure if I should be amused or frightened. He reminds me of a teddy bear that can easily turn into a grizzly bear who can rip your head off. “I’ll have the Max special,” he says, still observing me like a science experiment.

“O-okay.” I jot the order down. “Anything else?”

“Cinnamon roll and”—he points to the rack of candy and chips— “a pack of M&M’s.”

“Anything to drink?” I offer.

“I’m not much of a coffee drinker.”

“We have tea and lemonade.” I point to the drinks list.

“Surprise me.” He smiles again. It’s not a flirty one, more of a friendly kind, if that makes sense.

I nod, then hand the slip to the girls in the back. While they are preparing Max’s protein special, I fix his drink. The man grabs a magazine and flips through it. I can’t stop watching him. Something about him hits a striking familiarity. Maybe he’s a family member. Cousin?

“He’s muscular and handsome,” Isabella whispers. “He came on a Harley.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m nosy.”

I snort. She sure is. From the glass window, I can see a motorcycle parked.

The meaty man turns to glance at us, staring. He gives a smile that causes Isabella and me to jump. Busted. His smile vanishes like a thick cloud of fog on a dark night.

A man reaches over him so close you would think he was about to drop a kiss on his cheek, trying to grab a copy of People Magazine.

“What the fuck, man? Do you mind giving me space? Your rancid breath is all over my face, and not to mention your balls are practically rubbing against my thigh.”

The guy’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. I don’t blame him. He went from a friendly smile to a face that could cut through glass. “Sorry…I was trying to…”

“A simple ‘excuse me’ would have worked instead of rubbing your nut sack on me.”

Oh, great tits. I turn around to stifle my laughter.

Isabella elbows me. Handing me the plate of eggs. “Cuidado. He can kill us and shove us in the freezer. Then force us to fall in love with him.”