He was about to ask Bray more questions when his foster parents, Sally and Bill, showed up. He hadn’t seen them since the first time they’d met under similar circumstances. This time, however, they looked plenty irritated, but even more worried.
“Oh shit,” Bray muttered. “Now I’m in for it.”
“And rightfully so. You could have called me.” Armie cupped the back of Bray’s neck, making a point before the parents reached them. “They care about you and you keep sending them into a panic. That’s not fair.”
“They wouldn’t have let me talk to you. They...heard some things, and now they think you’re a bad influence.”
Well, hell. That could throw off his efforts to help. “Go over to Justice, okay? I want to talk to them first.”
Bray took off without asking any questions.
The second Sally and Bill reached him, Armie explained, “He just got here.”
“We know,” Bill told him. “He ran off and when he didn’t immediately return, we assumed he’d come here.”
Sally inhaled sharply. “This is a problem, Mr. Jacobson. Twice he’s taken off, and both times it was to you.”
Bill put a hand on Sally’s arm.
Feeling guilty when he had no reason to, Armie kept his tone calm. “You have to know I never encouraged that.”
“It’s happened all the same.”
True enough. “He’s got a mind of his own.”
“He’s fifteen!” Sally snapped. “Why does he keep coming to you?”
Appealing to them both, Armie stepped closer. “The way he was raised...it’s made him more independent than some kids his age might be.”
“He’s a good kid,” Bill said.
“A great kid,” Armie agreed. “But he has a lot of anger. I understand that.”
Sally, the most antagonistic, asked, “What makes you so understanding?”
“My mom threw me away, too.”
She gasped. Silence swelled around them. If they thought the truth was startling to hear, they ought to know how bad it was to live it.
“Coming here, to the rec center, is important to him,” Armie said. “Please don’t take that from him. I swear it helps kids like him to work off anger, to belong to a group, to have that camaraderie and to talk to someone who gets it.”
“We get it,” Sally said.
“No,” Armie told her respectfully. “You love him. That’s altogether different. And it’s great. Really great. But if you haven’t been in his shoes, then you can’t know.” He put a fist to his chest, over his heart. “I know.”
Sally and Bill shared a look.
Understanding their problem, Armie bit back his pride and instead of walking, he stood his ground. “Bray said you heard some of the rumors.”
“Are they only rumors?” Bill asked.
“Not an ounce of truth to them.” For the next few minutes Armie gave them a shortened, censored version of the old story making the rounds once more. “I don’t usually explain. As you can imagine, it’s a sore spot with me. But for Bray, I wanted you to understand. If too much gets said, my sponsors and I will fight it. But for now I prefer to concentrate on other things.”
“Like your upcoming fight,” Bill said.
That sounded as plausible as anything else, so Armie nodded. “Yes.”
“And Bray?” Sally asked.
A far more important consideration. “Definitely Bray.”
Bill silently deferred to his wife, and finally Sally nodded. “Can you tell me the schedule? I know he loves it, but what exactly will a boy Bray’s age be doing here? What does it cost and who will be instructing him?”
Armie turned to Justice, and the big lug immediately stepped forward. “Armie has an appointment, but Bray and I can show you around, then I’ll answer all your questions.”
God bless good friends.
After a few more exchanges, Armie left them gawking at Justice—and with Bray smiling ear to ear.
Progress.
Now, if only the rest of his problems could be solved so expediently.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WHEN HER CELL rang again, Merissa glanced at the call ID, saw it was Steve and ignored it. She had zero interest in talking to him and she’d tell him so, for the hundredth time, except that for once she wanted to get out of the bank on time.
It wasn’t easy trying to stay productive while missing Armie so much.
Did he miss her, too?
From what Leese had told her, while Armie seemed gloomy and pushed himself too hard, their separation hadn’t interfered with his training. She wanted him to win the fight. She wanted the whole world to take note of Armie Jacobson, to see what she saw in him, to know what an amazing man he was.
But she also wanted their relationship to matter to him.
Selfish.
Before she brought any more drama to his life, Armie needed to get through the fight, settle the issues with his father, with Bray and put the rumors to rest. Only then could she push him to settle things with her.
Unfortunately, that all felt so far away.
What if months went by and nothing got sorted out?
What if, in fact, she was pregnant?
Despite Yvette’s encouragement, she hadn’t yet done the drugstore test. Truthfully, she was afraid to. If Armie didn’t care enough to fight for her, why should she think he’d fight for a baby? Then again, in her heart, she knew Armie would never turn his back on her or a child of his own. But damn it, she didn’t want him cornered. She wanted him to love her.
When her office landline rang, she almost welcomed the interruption to her dejected thoughts. She needed to focus on bank business, and only bank business.
Dredging up her professional voice, she said, “Thank you for calling Warfield Bank. This is Merissa speaking, how may I help you?”
“Merissa.”
She dropped her head back with a silent groan.
“Merissa?”
Swiveling her chair to the door, she asked, “What do you want, Steve?”
“To talk to you.” And then with accusation: “You’re avoiding me.”
Exactly! “If you know that, then why do you keep calling?”
He huffed out a breath. “I heard you and the rapist split up.”
Glad that he’d called the bank’s landline instead of her cell, Merissa slammed the phone down on him. That was something she couldn’t do with a cell. A simple click didn’t provide near the same level of satisfaction.
Of course he called right back.
Just in case it wasn’t him... “Thank you for calling—”
“It’s me, damn it. Don’t hang up.”
Sitting forward, she snapped, “You can bet I’ll hang up if you insult Armie again.”
“All right. Calm down.”
She didn’t want to be calm. For once she wished she was an MMA fighter because she’d love to beat the hell out of a heavy bag. A calming breath did nothing to help her regain her aplomb. “Without insults, what do you want, Steve?”
“You. I’ve always wanted you.”
“No you didn’t, and it’s not happening now.”
He growled. “Could we at least talk? Grab a coffee or something? For old time’s sake?”