Chapter Sixteen

Rafe stepped outside the back door of the studio as he talked on the phone to Shannon. “I’ll be out on the floor by ten. Something’s come up.”

She released a derisive snort. “Yeah. I can just imagine.”

For some reason, Shannon still had a problem with Alexa. She needed to get over it, but now wasn’t the time to confront her about her attitude. “It’s not what you think. Alexa’s ex crashed her going away party at work. She hasn’t seen him since he jilted her on her wedding day.”

“Damn. That royally sucks.”

“More than you know.” His deep breath dragged in car fumes from the light traffic speeding up and down the street. “Call if you need me sooner.”

He hung up. Hopefully Shannon would show more compassion now that she knew about the situation. Rafe slipped back inside and quietly closed the door.

Alexa, dressed in one of his T-shirts, was sleeping on the couch under a blanket.

He’d scored some chamomile mint tea from one of the maintenance staff to help her feel better, but it was as if seeing Brad again had hollowed her out. Emotional pain clouded her eyes, but she refused to cry. He hated to see her holding all that suffering inside. What could he do for her?

Rafe dragged his fingers through his hair and pulled until his scalp stung. Technically Alexa wasn’t his girlfriend, but he cared about what happened to her. Did she think he’d end things if she got upset? No one, including him, would blame her if she got angry. Her ex was more than an asshole for running. Then the guy had the nerve to ambush Alexa at her going away party? Rafe itched to hit the heavy bag. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to throat punch Brad, especially when he’d pulled out the we-have-a-history card. Fucking bastard.

Alexa sat up. She blinked as if orienting herself to where she was and why she was there. As the blanks filled in, her expression shifted from confusion to sadness.

He dropped down next to her. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been dragged over a bumpy road from the inside out.”

In a way, she had been. Rafe wrapped an arm around her.

She looked to her hands in her lap. “Shouldn’t you be in the club?”

“Not until later.”

“Sorry for ruining your afternoon. I never imagined seeing him again would affect me that way. It’s been almost eight months. I should have handled it better.”

He’d thought the same thing when Eden had popped up at a show in Miami after she’d broken up with him. He leaned back on the couch, drawing Alexa with him. “You never know how it will impact you until it happens.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “You’ve been there?”

Deny it. He could, but she needed to realize she wasn’t alone. “Yeah. I went through an ugly breakup. Then I had an awkward run-in with her afterwards during a show performance.”

“She just popped up out of the blue?”

“Yep.”

Alexa huffed a bitter chuckle. “Was her name Karma Sunflower?”

“No. Eden.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I had help. The guys in the show knew about my situation with her. Whenever she or her posse volunteered to be brought on stage with me, they stepped in and took my place.”

He’d managed to stay clear of her…until she’d come backstage. The way she’d expected him to welcome her with open arms had made him sick and angry. So angry, that when she’d left, he’d punched a wall and fractured a bone in his hand.

Alexa fiddled with a button on his shirt. “There’s been so much gossip about Brad and me. People won’t say what they’re thinking to my face, but I can see it in their eyes. They’re either pitying me for not realizing he was cheating, or they’re speculating about what I did or didn’t do to make him leave.”

“It doesn’t matter what people believe. Deep down, you know his actions weren’t your fault.”

That’s what he’d learned to tell himself about Eden. Still, he couldn’t help thinking he shared some of the blame for being stupid enough to believe he fit into her world, and that she’d wanted to be a part of his.

Alexa laid her hand on his chest. “I had a paperweight in my hands when Brad walked into the room. I wanted to throw it at him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t cause a scene.”

“The way he did, showing up at your party unannounced or backing out on your wedding? You should be angry.”

“Maybe I should…maybe I shouldn’t.”

He sat up. “Hold on. Are you saying you don’t have a right to be upset?”

“What’s the point? It doesn’t change the fact that he left because he wasn’t happy with me.” Anguish covered her face. “I should have realized something was wrong. I should have known.”

Brad had walked out on her, and she believed it was her fault? Hell no. He grabbed Alexa by the shoulders. “Stop judging yourself. Brad should have been man enough to tell you he wasn’t ready to get married. Walking out on you was a punk-ass way of handling it.” Anger coursed through Rafe. He reminded himself not to tighten his grip. “You have every damn reason to make a scene.”

“I wanted to kick and scream.” She visibly swallowed. “But what good would that serve?”

“It serves you. Starting now.” He got up and hauled Alexa to her feet. There was a time for prim and proper, and this wasn’t one of them. She needed to let herself get royally pissed at Brad. At the world, if she wanted.

She gave him a bewildered look as he pulled her to the heavy bag in the corner of the room. “What are you doing?”

Rafe took off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Have you ever boxed or taken martial arts?”

“I went to a self-defense class once with Nat and Cori. Does that count?”

“That’s a start.” He pointed to the bag. “Hit it, but not hard. I want to see how you throw a punch.”

She balled up her hand and tapped it.

“Not bad, but we need to work on your form.” He took a fighting stance. “Point your left shoulder forward. Position your legs a bit wider. Now raise your hands like this.”

Alexa copied him.

“Exactly. Now watch me.” He snapped out a front punch. “See how I’m hitting with the flat part of my fist and not my knuckles?”

“Like this?” Concentration swept away sadness from her face as she threw a punch.

“Close.” Rafe stood behind her and adjusted her hips. Hitting the bag would help ease her mind. He’d started boxing in Miami to relieve his aggression after losing Eden. Little by little, the volatility raging inside of him had eased.

He ran through other types of punches and combinations. Her movements became cleaner. She was ready for the next step.

Rafe retrieved black fighting wraps from a recessed corner shelf in his closet. He wound the stretchy, bandage-like cloth through her fingers and around the knuckles of her right hand. “Is it too tight?”

“I don’t think so. Is this really necessary?”

“I want you to make real contact this time and not scrape your skin.” He wrapped her other hand. When he finished, he faced her toward the bag. “Go for it.”

She tapped again, but the bag barely swayed.

“Hit it harder.”

Alexa doled out a few one-two punches.

She’d been through a lot today, but coddling her wouldn’t help. He grabbed her. “You think you can’t say what you really want? You can. Here. Now. Let your punches do the talking. Stop acting weak.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I’m not weak.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” She wrenched herself from his hold. “You want me to hit the stupid thing. Here.” She smacked the heavy bag, and the chains above it jostled. “What about that?” She did it again. “Is that good enough? No? How about this? And this?” One punch followed another as she pummeled the bag. Her breathing grew labored. Her eyes grew bright, but no tears escaped. She kicked out and lost her footing.

He embraced her from behind and went down with her to the floor.

Rage and anguish came out with a scream so primal, it reverberated through her back and into his chest. She pounded the ground. “Why? Why did he fucking do it? Why?”

“I don’t know.” He held her close. “But I do know that whatever you’re going through, you’ll come out stronger.”

She heaved a deep breath. “What if I can’t?”

“You can. You will. You’ll figure out how.” He didn’t know her well, but he’d bet on her surviving, and in the process, kicking Brad’s ass.

“I’m tired of thinking about him…about her.” Alexa pressed kisses to his neck. “I don’t want to talk about it. I need you.” She moved back and dragged off her T-shirt.

Alexa still held unspent rage inside of her, and she needed to let it out, but her ardent kisses, and the way she tugged apart the rivet of his jeans, held a message that had less to do with sexual desire and more with experiencing something other than emotional pain. He understood. He’d been there.

Rafe laid Alexa on the floor. He slipped his hand into her bikinis, and she arched up. As he massaged her clit, he consumed her needy sighs and moans with his mouth. He’d give her what she wanted. Escape.