Sacrificial Love

Chapter One

My toes dug into the edge of the mat, gripping hard as his shoulder locks with mine, the jerking back and forth in line with the tumult of my noxious brain. I gasped out a breath before ducking down and aim to grab the backs of his thighs. Only he's six foot four. And, I am five foot three. And well, that is over a foot difference. Which, I lie to myself, if I was more skilled at grappling, if I had not taken half a decade off to pursue a degree in the humanities, if I had listened to my mother and father as they begged me to take the scholarship, I would have knocked him on his ass. As it were, I merely opened up my neck for him to slip his arm around and heave upward. 

The odd thing about anatomy when fighting another human being is that it is never what you expect. I had thought his arms, being that they were more muscular, not that I noticed, would hurt more as they wrapped me in a headlock. In fact, they were far softer than the teeny sixteen year old who had previously choked me with the inside of her bony forearm. 

Except there is a difference between a tried and true rear choke and this feeble headlock that leaves the entirety of my upper body free. I hop to the side, use my ample hips to hit his thigh out and end up laying sprawled out on the very sweaty, very large body of my sister's boyfriend. 

"Fuck, Marie. What the hell was that?" The timer sounds ending the match and I stumble off him, patting down the stray hairs aiming for the sky. 

"What? We learned it last week." I lie easily. Daniel and Leila, my beautiful, stunning, very best friend of a sister, had been gone for the last month in Peru. Charity work. Lovely souls those two had. I myself had spent the month trying and failing to start my yoga therapy clinic. I guess fail is an unfair word, even to my harsh self. I did not fail anymore than my ceiling failed to be a ceiling by cracking, leaking and ultimately not allowing my floors to floor and then the heating and the plumbing and basically the quaint townhome outside downtown Sealsbreg decided not be a fucking house.

"Hm. I'm not sure I believe. Coach looked about ready to bust his last vein." I fight the urge to flinch and instead look into his too grey eyes made even more so by the slight pink flush to his stumbled cheeks. For his dark brown hair he had odd blonde stumble outlining a sharp jaw and high cheekbones that in the right lighting looked vampiricaly concave. Brows two shades lighter and thick, envy worthy lashes, and pencil sharp lips, he was the perfect match to my model sister. 

And while I allowed myself to appreciate how handsome he was, I did little else. Because there was nothing between Daniel and I beyond a love for MMA and Spanish guitar solos. I shrugged, waving at Coach and slipping into my cheap Walmart sandals. They edge cut into my big toe, but it wasn't a far walk home. I should be living atop the clinic, but with the hole in the ceiling and lack of power, I was forced to stay with Daniel and Leila. 

"He'll live. We should go, though. Leila's making dinner." I tossed Daniel his own sandals and started packing up my gloves and wrap. Leila would throw a fit if we were late. She already had one when she learned Daniel and my schedules aligned and we would be at the gym together. She didn't like us alone. I was good at validating. I validated for a career. But she had no reason to think anything was amiss. For one, Daniel loved loved loved her. He adored her, made her coffee in the morning and showered her with gifts and trips around the world. Not to mention she was Leila Heiden, infamous international model known for her risque looks and innocent personality. 

I blame myself. I once, stupidly, told her about how I thought Daniel was handsome. He is. Hands down, no joking around, only an idiot wouldn't find his everything handsome. Sometimes, I hated going to the gym with him because all the other dudes puffed up around him, swaggering their tail feathers and bawking all sorts of crap. 

We step out of the rolling glass door into a soft spring day. It must have rained, the ground soft and pavement discolored. Daniel offers to take the bag but I hike it higher on my shoulder, "No, I've got it."

"You're thinking." I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Obviously."

"Wanna share? We've got at least another ten before we're back." I don't look at him. I know what I'll find.  A soft smirk. A sharp brown raised. 

"My feet hurt. I think I messed up my wrist sparring with Josephina. Oh, and I am starving. I'd say my mind is a radio with those three stations and no hope of catching a new signal." I patter on, because I'm nervous for what Leila will say if we're late. If she'll pull Daniel aside, berate him for being friendly to me, and then both spend the rest of the night ignoring me.

"You're right. Silence is better." I shoot him a smile and focus on the rock wedged against my sole. We walk a block, downtown breaking apart from shoulder touching brick storefronts to smaller family homes and finally the last stretch to Daniel and Leila's country abode. Daniel and I speak softly, randomly. Noting the people that past in their rain coats. The tourists with their bare arms, ready to swim in the nearby bayou, hair the color of snow cone dye. 

"Hey, wait a sec." Daniel stops before the long, winding driveway through weeping willows that would guide us to their three story home.  

"Yeah?" My stomach lets out a growl and I try to shush it with a hand to my waist. I don't like the look in his eye, nor the sun giving her last winks before fading over the hills.

"I'm sorry, Marie." I straighten, something his tone setting my nerves on fire.

"I don't even know what you're sorry about." He bites the inside of his cheek and its so innocent and Daniel, I can hardly stand it.

"Leila and I have been talking and it's time for a change. We love having you here, but it's a lot with her work right now and..." I raise my hand, a laugh I fight back on the edge of my lips.

"I know."

"What?"

"I heard you both the other night. You let me stay for a month. That is more than I could have ever hoped for." It's a half truth. I accidentally took Leila's phone to work today and saw their texts. Still, I had hoped it was just her venting and not me getting kicked out. Daniel rubs the back of his neck with a frown.

"I don't like this side of her." I still, knowing exactly who he means, but not wanting to say it in case I'm wrong. 

"I know." I say again, because I don't like this side of her either. It's jealous and narcisstic and a lot of other words I'll never say to Daniel.

"Come on, let's go back inside." I turn around, ready to get this over with. I just knew this would happen. And knowing Leila, it would be my fault. Maybe I left my laundry in her hamper, used too many dish towels, left a broken pen on her desk. All of which I did and resulted in Leila, in tears, yelling how unappreciative I was of her letting me live with them. 

A large, warm hand snatched my harm, dragging me backward. I spun, a mistake. If I breathed too deeply, my chest would brush against his. I could feel the heat from him, near steaming as the sun disappeared and salty cool air pressed against our skin. His eyes darkened against my own, his lips parted on a soft groan.

"I don't like that." I stiffened, unsure what to say, if I should move or stay, scared if Leila saw and hoping she did.

"What?" I asked, my words a hot breath between us.

"I don't like when you turn your back on me like that." The bag fell from my shoulder. The loud crunch against gravel, the already harsh pounding of my chest, I couldn't take it. Our hands tangled as we both tried to pick it up. I gave up first, letting my hand go slack, mumbling a thank you before rushing up the drive. 

In the southern most bedroom a light was on. I prayed it was not Leila.