I’ll catch you, Kick.

Those fucking words warmed my heart.

“See you, baby.”

She blessed me with one last smile and then headed towards Shelly’s grave.

Fuck, that shit with Jeremy would haunt me for the rest of my life.

***

Kick

30 years old – 5 years ago

“What the fuck are you doing, asshole?” Jeremy’s thunderous voice echoed around the room. He’d just barged into my house and we stood glaring at each other in my living room. I knew why he was here.

Evie.

She and I had just gotten back together, so of course he was in my face.

He loved her as much as I did.

I glared at him. “I’m fucking the woman I love, and, one day, I’m gonna make her my wife. I walked away from her once and I’m not gonna let anything or anyone come between us again. I’m not gonna let you come between us again.”

His fist connected with my jaw a moment later, and I stumbled back, caught by surprise. Jeremy and I had never had a physical fight before. I held my jaw as he roared, “How the fuck can you talk about Evie like that?”

“Like what?”

“I asked you what you’re doing, and you say you’re fucking her? What kind of a pig are you, anyway, Kick? Most men would say they’re dating her, not fucking her.”

I spat out some blood and reminded him I wasn’t like most men. “I’m an asshole, remember? That’s how assholes obviously speak.”

“You were never an asshole before, Kick. Storm has made you that way and I fail to grasp what Evie sees in you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not Evie, then. Don’t try and come between us, Jeremy. I swear to fuckin’ God, if you do . . . if you fuck this up for us, it won’t be pretty between you and me.”

He fumed. His body tensed as if he was about to punch me again and the vein in his neck pulsed. “Things haven’t been pretty between us for a while now and this is the end of it for me, unless you walk away from her.”

What the fuck?

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me! You’d throw our friendship away over this?”

“No, Kick, you pretty much threw our friendship away when you joined Storm. When you sold your soul to the devil and said to hell with everything and everyone. If you drag Evie into that world, I will spend the rest of my days fighting to get her out of it.”

I moved closer to him. Into his face. “I suggest you get the hell out of my house and never come back. I never want to see your face again,” I snarled, my eyes boring into his, screaming at him how much I meant every fucking word I’d said.

I was done with him.

He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, his eyes searching mine. I saw it. I saw the moment where he decided he was done, too. Something flashed in his eyes and he took a step away from me. “Done,” he snapped. And then he added, “If you love her like you say you do, you won’t drag her down with you. You won’t give her a life of shit and grime. Think about that.”

And then he was gone.

And I’d been thinking about that for five fucking years.

I’d let those thoughts convince me to walk away three years ago, but the pull to her was too strong to resist any longer.

As much as I now believed every word Jeremy had spoken to be true, I was a selfish bastard and wanted Evie with me.

I couldn’t deny it even if I tried.

Chapter Five

Evie

Despair swirled around me, and the four walls of the room closed in on me as my father admitted his latest fuck up to me. As I stood in his sorry excuse for a home, I squeezed my eyes shut and wished we could go back nineteen years and change the course of history. Change the fact he lived alone with threadbare carpets, worn couches with holes in them, clothes that hung off him because he didn’t care about eating, a career he’d let go of, and a fucking gambling addiction that ruined any chance of changing and improving his life.

“Fuck, Dad... how did this happen? You were doing so much better.” My eyes pleaded with him. I needed something, anything to give me hope this could be fixed. My gut knew, though. Knew this was what always happened, this was just the never-ending cycle of addiction that, once it had you in its grips, would never let you go. Not if you really didn’t want it to.

He hung his head.

Shame bathed his face.

Defeat clothed his body.

The man who’d raised me had vanished and in his place stood this father who I struggled to understand and love. I would always love him deep down, but it was more a reflex emotion. These days, love didn’t come easily...I had to work to love him.

He looked back up at me, his face more ravaged than I’d ever seen. When he finally spoke, he almost gutted me. “Baby, I need help.”

My father had never asked for help.

Never.

Not when my sister had died, not when my mother had cheated on him, not when he’d lost his job and had to take shitty casual jobs to pay his bills, and never for his gambling addiction.

His words pierced my heart and tears pricked my eyes.

Love knocked on my soul and I knew in that moment, I would do anything to help my father.

“How much do you owe?”

His eyes shut and he drew a long breath. Opening them again, he said, “Ten grand.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Ten grand.

Where the hell were we gonna come up with that kind of money?

My legs nearly buckled under me so I sat on the couch behind me, rested my elbows on my knees and dropped my head into my hands. This shit was fucked and although my brain scrambled to find a way out for him, it was coming up empty.