Page 19 of Nothing To Lose
Standing, I pull my shirt up to show him the script across the bottom of my left rib cage. His eyes leave mine to ghost over my exposed torso, and I feel his gaze like a physical touch. He leans in so close, I think I can feel his breath on my skin.
“Nothing to lose, everything to gain,” he reads out loud.
“It’s my fighting philosophy. I walk in the ring, or cage, knowing I have nothing to lose if I don’t win, but if I put everything I have into it, I have everything to gain. I was kind of known for being a bit of a reckless fighter.” I smile fondly and chuckle. “It’s also the philosophy my sister used against me to get me to, quote, ‘woman up and take some risks.’”
“I think I like her,” Tyler says sleepily, dragging his eyes down my abs and averting his gaze.
“She’s the best. And my mom is cool, too. She tries too hard sometimes, out of guilt for not being able to do everything for us. But we’re stronger people for it.”
“Were you close to him? Your dad?”
I nod. “Yeah. He was a good dad. Taught me the value of hard work, and that nothing is more important than family.”
“I bet he’d be proud of you,” he says, eyes growing heavy.
“I hope so. Although he’d probably be pissed to know I got a job oil rigging.”
Tyler’s eyes pop open wide, giving me a worried glare.
I shrug. “There weren’t a lot of options for a high school dropout with a family to provide for. I wanted to be a professional fighter, but there’s no money in it. I do regular rotations on the rig, construction jobs in between, and pick up fights for extra money here and there. It’s not a bad life.”
“Unless you get hurt. Or blown up,” he mutters, laying his head back on the arm of the couch.
“That doesn’t matter so much when you’ve got nothing to lose.”
* * *
It'safter midnight when I startle awake, and it takes a moment to register what's happening.
After we chatted for a while longer about my mom and sister and tattoos and the gym, and he’d skirted more questions about himself, he eventually fell asleep. Bundled up in another one of my hoodies, he passed out slumped over, his head falling onto my shoulder.
At some point I dozed off too. Now I'm sprawled out on one end of the couch, and Tyler is fast asleep with his head on my thigh. He groans, and I worry he might be in pain. But then he twitches and mutters something unintelligible, except for the word, "no," which comes out clear as day.
My body tenses. The longer I sit here watching him fight an invisible fear, listening to him whimper and cry, the tighter my muscles clench. He’s reliving what that monster did to him when he should be resting. If I ever figure out who did this to him, there will be no holding me back. I’ll tear them apart, limb from limb, until they’re unrecognizable.
I don't think you're supposed to wake someone when they're having a nightmare. Or is that just for sleep walking? I don't know. I don't know what to do. But when he curls in on himself and covers his head, I can't just sit here and watch. Carefully, I scoop him up and hold him against me, doing my best to shield him from the terrors only he can see.
5
TYLER
After waking up in Isaac's bed again, too comfortable for my own good, I know I need to leave. No matter what he says, I know I’m bordering on overstaying my welcome. In two short days, I’ve grown a little too dependent on the security of having him around. It's time to put on my big boy pants and face the world. I have responsibilities and my own life to attend to. I can't hide here forever.
I expect to find Isaac on the couch again, so I'm more than a little surprised when I stand from his bed and nearly trip over him on the floor. He startles awake, shooting up with my name on his lips like he was waiting for me to do or say something. Realizing that I’m right there, he steadies me and looks at me, checking me over to see if I’m hurt again.
"Why are you on the floor?"
"You don't remember?"
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. "Remember what? Wait. We were on the couch. How did I get in here?”
"I carried you," he admits. He at least has the common sense to be sheepish about it.
"Seriously?" I huff, throwing my arms out. "Why didn't you just leave me on the couch and go sleep in your own bed?"
"And let you sleep on that lumpy old thing? You're in enough pain as it is."
"It's not that bad. Plus, I'm like half your size."
