Fighting Shadows (On the Ropes #2)

So maybe I was acting like an asshole too. I was hurt though. Flint was the one person who knew my buttons. Yet, like a little kid on an elevator, he was pushing every single one of them.

I collapsed onto our bed, toeing my shoes off then kicking them over the edge. I groaned to myself when I heard his steps against the hall’s hardwood floor. I needed a few minutes to collect myself and get rid of the bitter taste he had left in my mouth. The door opened, but he didn’t come inside.

Propping himself against the doorjamb, he said, “You’re right.”

“I know I am,” I snarked back.

“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t assuming it was some nefarious plot or anything. I thought maybe you had lied to keep some distance between us when you first got back. I don’t know. That doesn’t even really make sense.” He ran his fingers through his hair then used his hand to comb it back into place. “It’s just . . . I missed your birthday, and now, I feel like a dick.”

“Are you ready to listen now instead of jumping to conclusions?” I asked, sitting up and crossing my legs underneath me.

He looked down sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t miss my birthday, Flint. My mother killed herself on March eighteenth, so when I was a kid, I picked a new day to celebrate.”

His head shot up. “Shit,” he breathed, becoming unstuck and walking to the bed to join me.

“As far as I’m concerned, my birthday is April eighteenth. I wasn’t lying to you, but the fact that you automatically assumed I was . . .” I trailed off.

He cupped my jaw to force my eyes to his. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“But that’s exactly the problem. There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know, Flint. You can’t always assume I’m lying or hiding shit from you every time a new truth comes out.”

The bed dipped under his weight as he settled on the edge. “I want to know everything about you, Ash. I should have known something as big as March eighteenth.” He leaned forward, kissing me all too briefly.

“Look, we’ve been back together for two months. The get-to-know-you portion of this relationship is not going to happen overnight.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Sage advice from a woman who’s only been in one relationship.” He smiled, kissing me again.

“Nah. I read a lot of romance novels.”

His head snapped back. “Do you really?” he asked skeptically. “Seriously, or are you fucking with me?”

“No. I really do. The dirtier the better.” I shrugged.

His eyes flashed wide as he fell back against the bed, laughing. “How the hell did I not know that?”

“You never asked!” I defended.

Grabbing my arm, he tugged me down, juggling me into our position. Sighing, he kissed the top of my head. “What else should I know about you?”

“Well, my favorite color is neon green, but only for accessories. You’ll never catch me in a neon-green shirt or dress. I prefer black with splashes of color. My favorite flavor anything is apple, but I hate actual apples. I love olives of all colors and prefer vanilla over chocolate.” I paused to tap on the corner of my mouth. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Maybe the important stuff.” He squeezed me tight.

“I can’t tell you the important stuff, Flint. That kinda comes out randomly. Hell, the stuff you think is important might not even be the important stuff to me. But the good news is I’m here for forever, so long as you stop making assumptions, time is something we have.” I pushed up on an elbow and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Turning his head, he captured my mouth. “I love you.”

“I know you do.”

“And I’m sorry. You can have whatever birthday you want.”

I kissed him more deeply then moved to straddle his waist. “What if I want my birthday to be today?”

“Sorry. No can do.” He suddenly sat up, shifting me to the side as he scooted toward the edge.

“Where are you going?”

“Shopping. I just found out my girl has a fetish for suits.”

I chased him off the bed, catching him just before he was able to retrieve his crutches. “Well, then why don’t you let her enjoy this one? Then go shopping.” I dropped to my knees in front of him only to be lifted right back to my feet.

“Because torturing her with a day at the mall then fucking her to sleep sounds like more fun.” He winked.

I would have argued, but it did sound like fun.

I could live with that.





Three weeks later . . .

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” I SAID, PULLING a little, black, velvet box from my pocket and placing it on the table after we’d finished lunch.

I’d wanted to take her somewhere nice, but in true Ash fashion, she’d picked a greasy burger joint with paper menus. It was her birthday though. If she wanted burgers and milkshakes, then damn it, I would make sure my girl got them.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, staring at the box as if I’d just unleashed a venomous snake. “I can’t open that.”

I nudged it a little closer. “Yeah, you can.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Flint.”

“Just open it.”

She shook her head and bit her lips.