Path To Resolution (Fighter's Den, #5)

Chapter 12 - Wolfe

A guttural gasp tears out of me at the sensation of my throat being cut open and I sit up in bed, my hand going to my neck.

Motherfucker.

I talked last night, didn't I? It wasn't a dream? I talked out loud to another fucking person after twenty-one years of silence. Just remembering it makes me shudder with panic and I break out into a sweat, flinging my blanket off.

I thought...I thought the fucking sky would fall on me the second I spoke. I've lived years in silence out of fear, the same fear that fucker Kane instilled in me since I was a fucking kid. The second I spoke, I waited for him to jump out and finish the job, slitting my throat until I bled out. But nothing happened. I'm alive and he can't touch me and...and I talked. I fucking talked to another person.

It was nothing like talking to myself, which I do all the time. In the sanctuary of my own home, I talk so that I don't lose my voice or ruin it more than it already is. I sound like a chain smoker when I speak because Kane grazed my voice box and the longer I go without talking, the more guttural my voice becomes. So I talk to myself and practice when there's no one to hear. For twenty-one years, I've only talked to myself. Never to another person. Not the cops when they asked me to describe what happened that day, not the nosy fucking reporters that followed me around town as I got older, not even Gramps who raised me until I could stand on my own two feet. He died without hearing me say a word. I figured if I couldn't talk to him, no one could make me speak. I'd be silenced for life.

I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I can't believe that I can even say I'm wrong. Never in a million fucking years did I think I'd be pacing my room and trying to comprehend that I overcame my greatest fear, that the most unbelievable fucking woman somehow did what everyone in my life failed to do. She gave me my voice back.

Melanie.

A reluctant smile escapes me when I realize she would kick my ass if she knew I call her Melanie in my head. She hates her full name but that's the one I use. I never think of her as Lenny. Lenny is the woman that pushes everyone away, the woman who pretends she isn't in pain and convinces herself she doesn't care about anyone. Melanie is the woman who cares so fucking deeply, the woman who made me feel seen and the woman who heard me long before I said anything out loud. She will never be Lenny to me.

I sound like a fucking pussy but it's true. I knew her long before she knew me. I used to see her around at the bar that I occasionally went to so I could practice being around other people. I'm no good with crowds. I scowl, I glare, I scare everyone off. I discovered that lonesome bar during one of my walks and when I realized it was almost always empty, I figured it was a good place to start. Only people like me hung out there — quiet, intense, alone. It wasn't exactly a place meant for clubbing. Completely my kind of crowd. That's why she stood out immediately, from the very first moment she discovered the place and walked inside like she owned it. My eyes had tracked her the whole time, wondering what someone like her was doing in a place like that. She looked tough as balls and wore a cocky smirk to match her attitude but she had too much life in her to be surrounded by people who looked burnt out. Didn't seem to stop her though. She became a regular after that and I did everything I could to not notice her because she made me so fucking curious.

That's why I couldn't believe my fucking eyes when Aria brought her to Asher's first professional match. All I could do was blink because I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, that I was imagining the girl from the bar. I was right to try and stay away because within minutes I was coming to her defence and knocking the shit out of the asshole that grabbed her ass. In that moment, I made myself known and for the first time ever she saw me. I didn't want to be seen by her. I didn't want to understand why she was so intriguing to me or why she pulled me towards her with just one fucking look. But it was like the more I tried to stay away the more I kept running into her. She was everywhere after that and when my curiosity became unbearable, I chose her as my tattoo artist so I could learn about her and hopefully put her behind me for good. Quench my thirst and all that shit. Again, I was so fucking wrong.