J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forgive

He pulls his wife into his arms and feeds her a bite of his food. “I love Bertha, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Ew, Jonah,” she says around a mouthful. “I was kidding.”

Unable to sit still another second, I let them know I’ll be right back and head up to check on Layla. I tell myself that she’s on the phone with her parents or stuck talking to a neighbor, but there’s a voice in my head that reminds me of Valentine’s Day. Warning me that what I have is too sweet to be real, and that I could lose it if I don’t pay close enough attention. I quicken my pace until I’m at my condo.

She’s not in the kitchen, living room, or front deck. I move down the hallway to our bedroom. It’s empty, but the bathroom door is shut. I knock twice and stick my ear to the door. “Mouse? You okay?”

The toilet flushes. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” The faucet runs, and I hear what sounds like her spitting.

I’m about to knock again, this time more forcefully, when the door opens. She smiles up at me, but her face is pale as hell. “Sorry. My stomach feels off.” She moves into my arms and slumps in my hold.

“Damn, sweetheart.” I kiss her head and scoop her legs up to carry her to the bed. “I’ll have Jonah take over at the party so I can come up and be with you.”

She grabs my hand. “No, don’t do that. Just give me a second. I actually feel a little better. But, um, can you just sit with me for a second?”

Like she has to ask? I throw myself on the bed and lie down next to her, pressing her head to my chest. “When did you start feeling sick?”

“I’ve been a little off all night, but I thought it was just nerves. Then I was walking up to change, and one of the catering guys walked by with a bunch of hamburgers. The smell of the cooked meat—” She covers her mouth and burps into her hand.

“That was hot.” I chuckle and pull her in tighter. Not a damn thing this girl could do would turn me off.

I’m fucking hooked. Pussy whipped. Tied down.

And over-fucking-joyed about it.

She giggles and nuzzles into my side. “Mmm, now I’m hungry. We have chips and salsa, right?”

“Yeah, if you get there fast enough. Raven’s inhaling food like a Hoover down there.”

“Well, she’s eating for two. I remember what that was like. One minute you’re starving to death and the next you’re…” Her body tenses against mine.

“Mouse? You okay?”

She doesn’t move.

“Shit, come on, I’ll get you to the bathroom.” I scoop her up.

She wiggles out of my hold. “No, wait.” Her eyebrows pinch together, and she counts on her fingers. “Oh my gosh. That’s impossible,” she whispers.

“Layla,” I growl. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s going on?”

Her eyes meet mine, an expression on her face I haven’t seen before. Ever. It’s a mix of absolute joy and pure fucking fear.

I cup her face and lean down. “Shit, baby. What?”

“I thought… it must not have been me.” She shakes her head, her eyes distant. “It was him.”

“What was him? Help me out here, I’m fucking dying.”

“I’m not infertile. He is.” She sits up on her knees, practically bouncing, and her brown eyes sparkle. “That’s why he refused the testing. They wanted to test me to try to figure out why I wasn’t getting pregnant.”

“Hold up, are you saying—”

“He must’ve known what I’d find out. The tests would prove that Axelle wasn’t his.”

“Wait, so you’re—”

“It would have exposed his lie. Then I’d have had every right to leave, and he’d have to explain how I got pregnant.”

“Mouse, baby. Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” Hope explodes in my chest like an A-bomb.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“Yes!”

Layla covers her ears from the power of my outburst.

I jump on the bed with both feet, hooting and hollering and pounding my chest. “Fuck yeah!”

The door flies open. Jonah and Raven come rushing in. “What the hell’s going on in here? We came up to use the bathroom and heard you from the front door.” Jonah’s eyebrows are set low and concerned.

“Layla’s carrying my baby.” I pounce from the bed and onto my woman, smothering her with my arms and lips. Kissing her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, chin, and repeating until she dissolves into a fit of giggles. “I love you, I fucking love you so fucking much it makes me sick.”

“Sick? That’s not good.” She’s still giggling.

“I love you. You know that. I love you, all three of you. This is us now. We’re a family. I know we’re doing all this backwards, but fuck what anyone says. You and Axelle are my girls. And, I’d be so damn stoked if you’d let me make this shit official.” Even with our close friends as witnesses, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room, hell, in the world. “Mouse, baby. Marry me.”

Her brown eyes go wide, and her lips tremble. She’s not saying anything, but her head is shaking no. Not the answer I was hoping for. Her single sob slashes through the silence.

I look at Jonah for help, but he just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning.

“Layla? Sweetheart, if you—”

“Ugh!” She bolts off the bed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

This is unexpected.

She stomps her foot. “I’m sick of getting married because I’m pregnant.” Her shoulders bounce with the force of her cry. “Seriously, what is wrong with me?”

“Ha, get used to that shit, dude.” Jonah points toward Raven, who’s also a sobbing mess.

“Mouse, nothing’s wrong with you.” I hold her in my arms and kiss her head. “Take your time, but know this… sooner or later, you’re taking my last name.”

She sniffs into my shirt, and her breathing calms. Her head tilts up, and she meets my eyes with a raised brow and a sassy grin. “I thought I told you, Snake. I don’t take orders.”

“Yeah, you told me. But I thought I told you, I’m a man who’s used to getting what he wants. I won’t give up until I have you… all of you. Forever. I won’t settle for less.”

She relaxes into my arms. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

~The End~

Studies done by Pandora’s Project, a support group for survivors of rape and sexual abuse, conclude that one in seven women will be sexually assaulted by her husband or boyfriend.

Research shows that marital rape can be more emotionally and physically traumatic than rape by a stranger.

If you or someone you know needs help, call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-Hope. Or go online to RAINN.org.

Everyone needs someone fighting in their corner. You’re not alone.

I hope you enjoyed Fighting to Forgive. Please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon.

The next book in the series will be Fighting to Forget.

Every fighter is drawn to the violence, the release that a perfect hit can bring.

But very few are drawn to the pain.

Rex Carter lives behind a wall of indifference. The demons from his childhood act as an anesthetic, keeping him distant from emotional connections. Only the ache from a knock to the jaw, sting of a tattoo needle, or heat from a piercing, can jolt him back from the numbness. The fiery pain is all he can feel, and nothing compares to the burn.

Or so he thought.

Working in a Las Vegas bar isn’t Georgia Maxwell’s dream. But she hopes it’ll be an end to the nightmare.

For over a decade, she’s watched him. Followed his career and kept tabs, all in preparation for this moment. To make amends, repair the wrong. But she didn’t count on the feelings that seeing him again would stir up. The vacant look in his stormy-blue eyes, his perfect body now mutilated by ink and metal.

And only she knows why. She’s lived his pain, every single day, since the day he left.

Changed by time, Rex doesn’t remember the girl from his past. If only she could do the same.

Will she get the absolution she’s spent her life seeking?

Or will he continue fighting to forget?

First and foremost, I’d like to thank God, the giver of all things.

Thank you to my husband for his love and support. You’re my real life hero. I love you.

To my daughters, my biggest cheerleaders, who never fail to remind me how sweet life is. You girls are my heart.

To my family, for their belief in me. Always fighting in my corner and giving me the strength to never give up.

Thank you to my friend, Evelyn Johnson. You’ve stood by me from day one and have never let me down. I swear I’d lose my own head if it weren’t for you. You’re the best assistant a girl could ask for. I cherish you.

I’m forever grateful to Warren Anderson at Rehab Plus for answering all of my questions about athletic training and steroid abuse.

To Dave Hodgeson of the Simi Valley Police Department for helping me with my law enforcement questions.

Thank you to Lieutenant Gary Applegate for filling in the holes in my research.

A very heartfelt thank you to my critique partners. You’ve all become so much more than a kick-ass Critter Crew, you’ve notched out a special place in my heart. The Fighting series wouldn’t be a tenth of what it is without your honest critiques. I value each and every one of your opinions, as well as your friendships. You’ve enriched my life in unfathomable ways. I love you girls.