Page 39 of I Am Lioness

She pushed me harder still. “Fucking fight me, Knox. Fight me!”

“No.” My tone was harsh.

My resistance to feed into what she wanted only spurred her on, like pouring gasoline over raging fire.

“Stop being a pussy and fight me! Fucking fight me!” She growled in fury, using every bit of strength within her to push and shove me repeatedly.

And I let her.

Every slam to my chest was harder than the last, jerking me back a step. Hazel finally pushed me to the very edge of the ring into one of the padded corners when tears suddenly began rolling down her cheeks.

That's where I drew the line.

I grabbed her wrists, applying just enough pressure to subdue her feat. “Stop.” I said, firmly.

Her eyes met mine and she stood still for the briefest moment before trying and failing to yank herself free from my grasp.

“Let me go and fight me!”

“Hazel.” I warned, squeezing her wrists.

She struggled against me. “Fight me, damn it!”

My anger flared and in one swift move, I spun around and pushed her into the padded post where I was seconds prior. “STOP!” I roared, loud enough that I'm certain the entire gym heard.

Hazel stilled, her brown eyes boring into mine. All the sudden rage consuming her melted away and what was left was sadness.

Grief. Torment.

“Oh my god.” She whispered as I released her wrists from my grip. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay…” I started to say but she threw her arms around my neck and hid her face in my neck, sobbing almost uncontrollably.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry!”

I swallowed her in my arms and pressed a kiss to her tear stained cheek, wondering if what just happened was only a small preview of the possible tsunami that threatened to drown my girl alive.

Every morningI awoke thinking this was all a nightmare, that Bernie was tucked away in his suite next door and would be banging down my door at any given moment to head to the gym. But every morning I awoke beside Knox instead, and while his presence in my bed was very much welcome, it was also a reminder that this was simply the hellish reality that once again was my life.

After a tumultuous couple of days, we left Austin on a Friday evening and made it to L.A. sometime before midnight. I went back to my apartment only to collect what I needed for the weekend, and then Emmanuel drove us to Knox’s condo. I couldn’t bear being alone, and if I was being completely honest, I didn’t want to be anywhere that reminded me of Bernie for an extended period of time.

I don't remember much of what happened following that other than falling asleep to the steady beat of Knox’s heart beneath my ear.

The following morning was the day of the funeral. I awoke alone and trudged out of bed to find Knox in the kitchen, fixing what smelled like a delicious breakfast. Strips of bacon were sizzling in a pan and a pile of pancakes were piled high on a plate. He was pouring himself a steaming mug of coffee when I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my lips to his very naked and very inked back.

The mug clinked on the countertop and then he swiveled around to face me, snaking his hands around my neck, his thumbs brushing along my jaw.

Sleepy, blue eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.” He said softly, pulling me toward him to kiss me tenderly.

The corners of my mouth turned up at the sound of his deep, raspy morning voice.

“Morning, stud.”

“Hungry?” He asked, pulling away to observe me, as he’d done every morning since arriving in Austin.

“A little.” I admitted.

His lips thinned, eyebrows knitting together. “You need to eat, Hazel, at least a small plate. I’m not going to sit around and watch you deteriorate right before my very eyes.”

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