Withstanding the Enemy

Nineteen

Chance…

The smell of sweaty musk saturates the air as I wipe my dripping forehead. The last few days of sparring with Andy has surprised me. We are much more evenly matched than I thought. I begin to pack up my gear as my thoughts wander once again to Emma and what I heard in Rick’s office.

Andy slaps my back as he walks past me. “Hey, what’s with you today?”

I shove the last of the gear in the bag and zip it up. “What do you mean?” I ask turning to him.

Andy tosses a water bottle at me and I catch it with one hand and sit down on one of the benches by the grappling mats.

“I’m just saying—you’re unfocused today. I was about to pin you several times—you’re usually more of a challenge for me… What’s on your mind,” he asks also taking a seat.

His question throws me off guard and I hesitate. Can I tell him? No, he’ll report directly back to Rick.

“Oh you know, man—a woman.” I shrug making little of it, hoping he won’t press for more.

“Good luck with that. If you figure out the mystery to the creatures called women, hook a brother up with the intel.” He laughs as he balls up his water bottle and tosses it to the trash can—making it.

“Nice shot!”

“Thanks; so what’s the deal with your woman?” he asks.

Your woman. She will never be yours… A stabbing pain jabs in my chest. I decide not to talk about Emma. The last time I trusted someone with the knowledge of a woman I cared about… I think as pain radiates in my chest.

“So what’s your story then? If you don’t want to talk about your woman,” he asks noticing my reluctance to talk.

“What story?” My story of … my past … of her … Libby

He sets his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “You know, Rick gives me everyone’s info. But I want to get to know my crew. And coming from Rick, you’re trustworthy and that’s hard to do with a man like Rick—who trust no one.”

“Yeah I get it. Well what do you want to know?” I feel my shoulders tense up. What is he getting at? My past?

“I'm not investigating you. I just want to get to know you. What do you guys do for fun around here?” he asks leaning back in his chair.

I roll my shoulders. Relax, he’s not digging. “About the only thing to do when you’re off is to go to the club. I have heard the parties can get pretty wild.”

“I don't know about all that; it’s really not my thing. I would rather shoot some hoops and kick back with a few beers,” he says.

Maybe we will get along better than I thought.

She is not mine. She is not mine. f**k! I wish she were mine. I repeat to myself as I wait for Emma at 1p.m. like Rick instructed. I pick up the book she lent me and open it for the first time. Judging by the cover it looks to be more of a thriller than a romance.

Twenty minutes later, I am completely sucked in and don’t hear as Emma enters the room.

“Are you ready?” she chuckles snapping me back to reality.

I look up from the pages to see her standing before me smiling. My heart skips a beat.

“I'm ready,” I say forcing myself to build a wall around my heart as I repeat: She is not mine. She is not mine.

“Let’s go.”

As we make our way down to the library, I caught myself staring at her and then repeat: She is not mine… I roll my balled up shoulders as the library comes in to view. Thank God.

I walk up to the reception desk and see stacks of boxes taking over the space—stopping me in my tracks.

Emma bumps into me. “What the…?” she says as she looks around me. “Oh my gosh … oh my gosh,” she squeals as she nearly pushes me over to reach the boxes.

Her eyes brighten as she starts doing what I can only assume to be her happy dance which causes my heart to slam in my chest. She stops and looks up to me giving me her full attention. God help me…

Even God himself couldn’t stop the emotions from hitting me. She …is … so … beautiful. No matter how hard I fight it this time—it feels as if she has sucker punched me in the gut as her blue eyes pierce into me. I want to pull her into my arms—f**k!

Instead, I smile back at her and pull out my pocketknife, handing it to her. “You better start opening all these boxes before they decide to run away,” I tease.

One by one, she cuts the top of the box, looks inside, and does a little happy dance that I don’t think she even realizes she is doing it.

As she opens the final box, I walk up beside her. “So, what are you going to do with all of this?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “I don't know. I can't believe it came so fast.” She steps backward and in her pure glee, she doesn’t notice the box behind her and she trips. Her arms fly forward and without thinking, I pivot and catch her, grabbing her hand that holds the knife. I look down to her in my arms, but her eyes are squeezed shut. “Em, are you okay?”

She looks up to me and a rush of desire overwhelms me. I want to lean down and kiss her parted lips. A blush stains her pale skin, I repeat, “Em, are you okay?”

She shakes her head in a yes. I force myself to stand her up and pull her body away from mine. I take the knife out of her hand. Still, she remains silent. “Emma, are you sure you are okay?”

I scan her body for injuries when my eyes land on her left forearm where she is bleeding. “Shit.” I scoop her up and jog to the bathroom.

Setting her down on the edge of the sink, I reach for the paper towels to assess her cut. “Emma, are you going to pass out? You need to talk to me. Deep breaths. If you feel like passing out, I need to know so you don't get hurt from falling,” I say wiping the blood—Emma’s blood.

Emma shudders. “I … I ‘m … light … headed,” she manages to say and sets her head on my chest for support. “But … fine...”

I grab a few more towels and wet them down before applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

“It's deep but I think it will be fine once we get it to stop bleeding. A little bit of super glue should close it shut,” I say ignoring the desire to kiss her forehead. “Emma, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah … I am,” she says dreamily.

I pull slowly away meeting her eyes. She blinks her eyes a few times and pulls her arm away from me as I apply pressure. “Ouch that hurts,” she snaps suddenly.

“Hey, don't move. I have to keep pressure til the bleeding stops,” I say firmly holding onto her arm.

“f*****g let go of me!” she yells pulling harder this time. I let go and the paper-towels go flying through the air.

Damn it, woman… What is she doing…?

I put my arms up. “Emma, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help you. You’re bleeding.”

Her wild eyes look down to her arm as blood comes rushing to the surface and drips down her arm. She pales—and immediately faints.

“Damn it!” I say leaping to catch her just before she falls hard to the floor.