Page 29 of Dukes of Peril

I deflate. “No, wait.” Knowing I'm going to end up regretting this, I meet his gaze. “Don’t bother, man. I’m coming off a bender. Trying to clean myself up. You know how it is.”

Pauly, who’s probably done and quit more drugs than I’ll ever see, spits a low curse. “You’re going through withdrawal, too? Don’t tell me. Viper Scratch?”

Nick’s standing off to the side, arms crossed. He’s the one to say, “I think the worst has passed. He stopped ralphing around noon.”

“So you’ve got a shoulder that needs rehabbed as you detox from some of the worst dope around.” Pauly shakes his head. “Keep on burning that candle at both ends, Maddox, and all you’re going to find is ash.”

I struggle back into my shirt. “You don’t know the fucking half of it.”

He leaves us with a couple of exercises but mostly wants me to rest it and allow it to heal for the next few days. “Pushing it will only cause more pain and more pain will drag you back to the scratch, baby.”

“Come on,” Nick says, “you can spot me on the weights.”

I know what he’s doing. He’s keeping me busy.Babysittingme until I’m ready to go to class or pick up a paintbrush again. My hands have been shaking so bad I won’t dare get near the tattoo gun. Jesus. I value my art–myreputation–too much to risk it.

Nick racks the weights then lays back on the bench, beneath the bar.

“You know if this falls on you there’s not much I can do with this fucked shoulder, right?” I tell him, eyeing the amount of weight he added to each end.

“This?” He nods to the weight. “Total cakewalk,” then grips the bar. His muscles tense, but he pops it off the rack and brings it down to this chest. I roll my eyes, knowing Nicky can’t stop pushing himself. Sy has that too. That determination and grit.

The Maddox genes didn’t pass that down.

A door slams across the room and I glance up. “Shit,” I mutter.

“Wha–” Nick starts, but it ends in a grunt. Sweat blooms in the center of his gray T-shirt.

“It’s Haley,” I say, feeling the tickle of anxiety on my spine. I’m not a big fan of confrontation. Or accepting responsibility. Or cleaning up my messes.

More Maddox genes.

My signature move here is to just dip. Get the fuck out. Avoid whatever hellfire is going to come my way from engaging with Haley any further.

I’m about to notify Nick of my super mature plan, that I’ll meet him in the car, when he says, “Rem. A little help?”

His arms wobble the massive amount of weight threatening to crash down on his chest. “Jesus. I told you!”

I grab the bar with the hand on my good arm and the two of us struggle to get it back on the rack. “See?” Nick says, wiping his face. “Cakewalk.”

I shake my head but then I see her crossing the gym. “Dammit. Now she’s coming over here.”

“Dude, you dug this hole. Fix it. Own up to your bullshit.” He tosses his towel over his shoulder. “I’ll be over there on the treadmill.”

“Whatever,” I say, “Haley loves me. I’m sure she’s fine.” I run my hand over my face and when I look at her again, I see she’s got her shoulders back, pushing her chin and tits out. A coy grin toys with her lips. I try to pull out her colors, get a feel of her vibe, but they’re lost to me right now, like so many other things.

“Hey, babe,” she says, eyes skating over me. “You okay? I tried to find you after the fight and you were just gone.”

Gone is the right word. Out of my goddamn mind, climbing cliffs, confronting demons and jumping for my life. Declaring my love. She has no fucking idea what I’ve been through since the locker room.

“Look, Haley…” I start, aware of the steady sound of Nick’s feet pounding on the treadmill.

“No,” she says, voice hard.

“No, uh, what?”

Her hip juts out and her hand lands on the curve. “You are not about to ‘look’ me.”

“‘Look’ you?”

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