Free A Father's Fight: Blake and Layla #2 (Fighting #5) by Jb Salsbury Page A

share some big secret with
me, huh?” I busy myself by sliding plates off the bar and racking them.
    “I don’t see what the big deal is. Just go home, let her say her
peace, and then you can come back to your perfect life.” He shrugs, but I can see the frustration working in his expression.
    My hands freeze on the weights. “What the hell’s that supposed to
mean?”
    “Nothing.” He chugs down the rest of his water and tosses the
empty bottle in the nearby trashcan. “Forget it.”
    “I’m just trying to understand.” The words were meant for my own
ears, but Brae’s eyes dart to mine. “Dad’s always been the only person she
cares about, more than you or me, and now she says ‘jump’ and I’m supposed to
say ‘how high?’” The plate I’m racking slams down harder than I intend. “How
can she love someone so much that she’d . . .” Abandon me. I growl at my own weakness and have the sudden urge to
hit the heavy bag. “. . . put up with his shit.”
    “Don’t know. I mean . . . put yourself in her shoes, dude. What
would Layla have to do to get you to leave her?”
    What the fuck?
    He must have read the question in my expression. “Think about it.
What if she alienated you from your friends? Would you leave her?”
    It takes me all of zero seconds to answer. “No.”
    He shrugs. “What if she called you names?”
    I shake my head.
    “Bet you’d leave her if she hit you.” He lifts one eyebrow,
contradicting his statement.
    He knows I’m hopelessly hooked on Layla. There’s not much or
anything she could do to make me walk away.
    “Yeah, yeah, I see what you’re saying. But I will say, if Layla
wasn’t good to our kids, if she . . .” I have to force the damn words from my
lips because even though it’s hypothetical, it feels like blasphemy. “If she
was emotionally abusing our kids, we’d have issues.”
    “But would you leave her?”
    Damn. The honest truth is . . . no, I wouldn’t leave her. I’d fix
her, but never leave.
    “Just go home. Hear her out.” He rubs his towel over his
high-and-tight military haircut. “If it’s Layla you’re worried about, I’ll stay
and take care of her until you get home.” He winks. Asshole.
    Even though he’s giving me shit, he knows he’s one of two guys
I’d ever trust keeping an eye on her and Axelle. The other is Jonah, but he’s
busy with his wife and baby.
    “I don’t know, man. I mean she’s due any day now.” What are the
chances she’ll give birth while I’m gone? Orange County isn’t even an hour
flight from Las Vegas. I’ve been at the training center longer than I’d be in
Oceanside. I’m running out of excuses not to go.
    The door to the weight room swings open and three fighters enter:
Wade and two new guys he’s been working with.
    “Daniels.” He greets me, but my brother also turns his head.
    “Wade, this is my brother Braeden, United States Marine Corps.”
    Wade’s eyebrows lift. “No shit?” He reaches out a hand, and Brae
stands to shake Wade’s. “Nice to meet you, and thanks for your service.”
    Brae cringes slightly, not enough for anyone to notice but me. It
irks the shit out of him to take credit for combat he’s never actually
experienced, but he plays it off well. “Thanks, man. Nice to meet you.”
    The guys hit the weights, and Brae and I hit the cardio machines
in silence. We don’t have to talk to know from the dead air between us and lack
of teasing jabs our thoughts are on whatever it is waiting for me back in Cali.
    And as much as I’d hate to admit it, I’m making flight
arrangements in my head.

 

 
 
 
    Eight
    Layla
    “As soon as Cameron announces a fight, I open a file
here.” I click on the program and that opens to multiple files.
    I decided after lunch today that the condo was too quiet and I
needed something to do, so I came to the training center to go over some last
minute things with Eve since she’ll be taking over while I’m on maternity
leave.