Page 37 of Love Over Easy

David

I know it was a jerk move to sneak out while Shy’s back was turned. At least I waited until the rush had calmed down. As word spread through the afternoon, a slow trickle of her fans showed up for autographs and pictures with the famous MMA fighter. Fuck!

I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her. It wasn’t until the little boy put it together with “The Huntress” that the bell literally rang. I’m not a big follower of boxing or MMA, but Shyanne “The Huntress” Lambert is more than an ordinary fighter. She’s world class. I think she’s even been in a few movies.

For the past hour, I’ve been scouring the internet, reading articles and interviews she’s done over the years and I’ve even watched some of her matches. It all makes sense now. The bruises. She had a match right before she showed up on the island. That’s where they came from. They weren’t from an abusive boyfriend or husband like I’d imagined.

I thought she was in danger and she’s anything but fearful. She instills fear in others that try to take her down inside the cage she fights in. I can’t put the gentle, kind woman who’s running a café together with the warrior I see on the videos. The two are complete opposites. Which one is the real Shyanne? One I could love; the other wouldn’t look twice at me.

I’ve uncovered a lot of her secrets, but there’s still a discord with why she ran away to Faire Island. Why sneak and try to hide? And why here? From the bank she makes, she could have gone anywhere in the world.

I can’t wrap my head around her career. I’m not sure I could ever support her the way she needs. I can’t. It’s not in my DNA. I’m supposed to protect her. Letting her walk into a cage she may never walk out of goes against all my protective instincts. What she does is dangerous. One wrong punch, a kick gone wild could literally end her.

I scrub a hand down my face and click to shut down the computer. Sadie left the office at five, after asking if what she heard about Shy was true. News travels fast on the island. I check the clock on the wall—it’s after seven now. I should have been home hours ago.

Did Shy go home? Maybe she packed and caught the last ferry out. It’s funny how I now refer to the house I live in as our home. I knew better than to let my heart become involved until I learned her secrets. Now it’s too late. She always knew she’d leave. I thought we were heading towards something long-term, even though we never spoke the words.

The house is quiet when I let myself in. There are no delicious smells coming from the kitchen and there are no lights on. My breath hitches in my throat. She left. But then my eye catches a movement down on the beach. My heart starts back beating when I spot Shy sitting on the sand.

I open the sliding glass door and kick off my shoes before I walk down to her. Without a word, I sit beside her and look out over the waves. She knows I’m here, but we sit in silence. There’s no need for words. We’re both lost inside our heads. Slowly her hand moves to my knee and I cover it with mine. It hurts too much to see her so emotionally drained.

Yes, she should have told me weeks ago, but can I really fault her for keeping it to herself? There’s a measure of trust that I thought we’d built. I suppose I was wrong.

“You should have told me, Shy.”

Her head drops. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t. There were so many times when I started to, but being simply Shyanne held too much power. If you’ll let me, I’d like to tell you everything.”

“I’m listening.” And so I do. I sit and listen to a sad, sad story of a little girl reaching for love and acceptance, from the one person who should have given them unconditionally.

She looks out over the crashing waves and begins. “My mom died when I was born. My dad had four boys to raise and had no idea what to do with me. My grandmother agreed to take me.”

She turns her head to meet my gaze. Even in the moonlight, I can see the anguish she’s going through.

“Do you remember Ruby Brooks?” she asks.

The name is familiar. “Yes. She owned Ruby’s, the restaurant in town.”

She smiles sadly. “Right.”

This leaves me confused. If her grandmother was… “Do you mean you used to live here?”

She nods and lets her gaze move back to the ocean view before her. “For a short time. Only during the summer months when the restaurant was open. Other times, we lived in Florida. My love of cooking started with my Gram. I was even working in the restaurant by the time I started school. By the third grade, I was helping out in the kitchen. Up until that point, I’d seen my father a total of three times. Some of my brothers I’d never met.”

How could that even be possible? I remember eating at the restaurant with my parents. Did I ever meet Shy? I search my early memories, but nothing surfaces. She pauses and I thread my fingers through hers, giving her whatever comfort I can.

“They lived in Nevada and I honestly wondered if my father sometimes forgot I existed. Or if he wished I never was born. My mom would have been alive if she hadn’t had me.”

The guilt in her voice slays me. “Shy, you can’t…”

She squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. I don’t blame myself for being born. Gram told me how much my mother wanted me. And when she found out she was finally having a girl, she cried because she was so happy. I have pictures of my mom and dad holding up the sonogram with these big, crazy smiles on their faces.”

She grins, lost in memories, but her grin fades. “When I was ten, Gram died. And my whole world changed.”

She was so young and she’d already experienced two emotional losses. “Your grandmother was in Florida when she died. I remember she had a heart attack.”

“Right. After Gram’s funeral, Dad had no choice but to take me with him. All I knew was that my father never wanted me and here I was, living with him and four boys that scared the crap out of me. I’m sure they thought I was just as strange as I thought they were. I tried to become invisible, but they were always teasing me and taking my things. You know, normal kid stuff. I would run crying to my dad and he’d tell me to stop being a baby and fight back. So that’s what I did. I learned how to fight in order to live in my father’s world.”

My jaw tenses. How could a father treat his daughter that way? She should have been cherished and comforted. “Your father doesn’t sound like a very good parent.”

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