The Harder You Fall

“I don’t care about the protein, and you know it. I care about the way you’re looking at me right now. Or trying not to look at me.”

Right. Jase actually expected West to forgive himself for the part he’d played in the prison sentence. And for a while, he’d tried. But guilt was the monster in the back of his mental closet, always there, always lurking, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. His friend had suffered unimaginable horrors, and for what? So West could throw his life away?

So, no, West wouldn’t be forgiving himself anytime soon.

“You’re the reason I’m what Brook Lynn refers to as a romance novel lover’s dream. Reformed and rich,” Jase said. “I’m grateful.”

West started WOH simply to keep himself busy during his recovery, but the hobby quickly became a cash cow. “You wouldn’t have gone to prison at all if I’d reacted differently to Tessa’s—”

He couldn’t say the word.

The night it happened, he’d been a newly minted eighteen-year-old kid fresh out of the foster system. He’d lived with his boys and had his eye on the prize: a happily-ever-after. Tessa had invited him to a party, but at the last minute he’d opted to stay home and tinker with a new motherboard. He could sell it, make money and buy his girl the world. She’d gone with her cousin, instead. Beck had gone on a date with a girl he’d met earlier that day, and Jase, a carpenter, had still been at work.

A sobbing Tessa had returned in the middle of the night. She’d always been an emotional girl, so he hadn’t reacted at first. Then she’d thrown herself into his arms and gasped out, “He...he... West, he forced me,” and everything had changed.

Dark rage swallowed West whole. He’d gotten the rest of the details out of her, picked up Jase and Beck, and hunted down the piece of shit responsible. The guy had been sleeping peacefully in his bed.

Yeah. They’d broken into his apartment.

West threw the first punch. When he felt cartilage shatter and saw drops of blood leak onto lips that had assaulted Tessa, he smiled without humor. He only wanted more blood, more destruction—wanted to deliver more pain.

The guy fell to the floor and cried, “She begged me for it!”

As he tried to crawl away, West kicked him in the ribs. A starting bell. Jase and Beck joined the boot party, and it was a brutal, savage thing. Wrath unleashed. Violence without equal. The three of them continued until the bastard stopped moving...stopped grunting...stopped breathing.

“West.” Jase’s voice drew him back into the present.

“You shouldn’t have asked us to hide our involvement.” Back then, they’d lived by a strict code. What one requests, the others do. The end. But West had soon found himself trapped in a prison of a different sort, one built from guilt and shame. “Especially me. You expected me to move to Massachusetts, to finish school and start a family with Tessa.” He released a sharp breath. “I never even set foot out of Oklahoma. And you know what happened to my girl.”

“I don’t regret my decision. I never have.”

No. Not true. “You must.” Emotion clogged his throat. “Beck and I used to visit you every week. I saw your bruises...know what happens to young, scrawny boys behind bars...” At eighteen, Jase had been extremely scrawny.

A muscle jumped in his friend’s jaw. “That’s the past. Over. Done.”

“Is it?” Sometimes West woke up to Jase’s screams.

Shouldn’t have brought this up. Too painful for us both.

I can do this. He pasted on a happy face and rolled with the punches. “You’re right. Of course. Over and done. Now drink your breakfast like a good boy.”

Jase peered at him for a long while, silent, before finally sighing. He tasted the shake and grimaced. “What’d you put in this thing? Arsenic?”

“Can’t be that bad.” West took a swig and shuddered. Yeah. It was that bad. “Arsenic would taste better. Brook Lynn awake?” The girl was magic in the kitchen. She could throw together—

“She left earlier this morning for a dress fitting. Something about gaining a pound and seams busting.”

Women and their weight. When would they realize skin-and-bones only impressed other women? Men preferred soft and lush...like Jessie Kay, rounded in all the right places.

Down boy. “Maybe Harlow—”

“Nope.” Jase shook his head. “She’s helping Jessie Kay with breakfast deliveries.”

First he’d thought the name. Now he’d heard the name. Can’t escape her.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Jase said, mercifully changing the subject, “I selected a construction company.”

“Good.” A few weeks ago, they’d decided to build two additional homes on the acreage. One for Jase and Brook Lynn, one for West and his misery. Beck and Harlow would keep the farmhouse since she’d grown up here and loved the place almost as much as she loved her fiancé. “What do you need me to do?”

“Call the owner on Monday and tell him what you want. I’ll text you his number.”

Beck stumbled into the kitchen. He was dressed and ready to go, but his hair was unkempt and his eyes rimmed with red. “What are you two yakking about?”

“Your bachelor party,” Jase deadpanned. “You want one stripper or four?”

“Dude.” Beck scratched his chest. “My life was a bachelor party. I don’t need another one.”

Jase snickered. “Afraid the little woman will protest?”

Like he wasn’t just as whipped.

“Actually, I’m afraid the little woman will ask the strippers for tips and I’ll die of a heart attack before I have the privilege of saying my vows.”

West handed him a shake. “Stop bragging about your love life and drink your breakfast, Becky. You need it.” The guy was an attacking midfielder, his skill with a ball unsurpassed. He remained calm under pressure, dishing out all kinds of abuse. “You step into the arena half-asleep and you’ll have your ass handed to you.”

“I should be so lucky.” Beck drained half the glass without reacting to the bitter taste. “It’s a nice ass.”

“Your modesty humbles me.” West was fast and agile, so he played center forward, stealing the ball—his ball—whenever it needed stealing. And it was his ball. Always. When he stepped onto the field, a sense of possession overtook him. Mine. Which was probably why he ended up the top scorer of every game.

That, and his skill, tenacity and strength. He spent a good portion of every day in the gym. He would never be weak again. He despised helplessness almost as much as he despised chaos.

“My modesty is just one of the many amazing things about me.” Beck finished off the rest of the shake. “Good stuff. Thanks.”

West glanced at his wristwatch. 9:28 a.m. All right. “Time to go.”

He grabbed the duffel containing a change of clothes and climbed behind the wheel of his Mercedes. Jase had called eternal dibs on the front passenger seat, so he claimed his prize and Beck settled in back, all without protest or complaint. The two respected West and his schedules.

My soul mates.

He drove through the town square, where different families meandered along the sidewalks. Everyone was bundled up for warmth, and everyone paused to smile and wave as he passed.

To West, it was a scene straight of out a movie, too picture-perfect to be real, but he smiled and waved right back.

“Who we playing today?” Jase asked as they crawled along the highway. Ice had been sanded and salted, but there were still slick spots. At this rate, they’d reach the downtown Oklahoma City arena in fifty years.

“The Ball Busters.”

“Last year’s league champions.” Beck grinned, the baring of teeth a little evil. “That’ll make our win today a thousand times sweeter.”