Free Wreck (Bareknuckle Boxing Brotherhood Book 2) by Cara Nelson Page A

mother of his child, his jaw set in grim determination not to argue, not to match her insult for insult.
    “You still live in Mattapan where we grew up. It is the ARMPIT of Boston, Kyle. My daughter is not going to visit your family in that crime-ridden shithole so she can see some hooker giving a hand job in the alley on the way to your mom’s house. Your neighborhood and your lifestyle are too dangerous and too—shitty for Olive. Yeah, she’s right here. She can hear me. She knows. She only saw you so we could get the medical history we needed to HELP her. I’m not exposing her to you anymore, and as for that phone, how DARE YOU give her a cell phone. I was saving up to buy her one for her birthday, and now you rode in after not paying a single bill her whole life, and bought her some fancy gadget—”
    Kyle walked out to the parking lot to get out of the busy mall and have some measure of privacy. His steps were heavy with anger.
    “Look, Ashley, I know you’re mad—” He chewed at his thumbnail, a habit he had dropped as a kid. He was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, agitated, desperate.
    “Mad? I’m insulted. You think you’re going to walk in and play Daddy after all these years!”
    “I know I have lost time to make up for. I intend to do it. I’m going to get to know my kid.”
    “She’s not your kid. She’s MY KID. All you ever contributed was ten minutes in the back of my Jeep, Kyle.”
    “Did you just say that in front of Olive?” he said through gritted teeth.
    “Yeah. I did. Why, do you want her to think you’re something noble instead of a deadbeat boxer who never made it out of Boston? It doesn’t matter. You’re not in her life, and you’re not going to be.”
    “Look, if I have to sue you for visitation rights, I will. You can’t keep me from seeing my own child.”
    “Visitation? Really? HA! I’d love to see you try to be a parent, but you’d have to grow up first. Forget it. Any judge would take one look at what you are and laugh you out of court. I could go for nine years of back child support, though. That might be pretty nice. Get myself a new car.” She laughed.
    “Do you think I’m going to BACK DOWN? Do you think I’m some guy you can PUSH AROUND, ASHLEY?” he roared into the phone.
    He heard the line go dead and shut his phone off. He wanted to call her names, accuse her of keeping his daughter away from him for the last decade. He stopped himself. He didn’t even throw the phone. He stared at it, still whole and functional in his hand, and shook his head.
    He wanted a drink, a double, good smooth Irish whiskey if he could get it. He wanted to take a baseball bat to Ashley’s car, wanted to punch a wall or—this was the cold truth—he wanted to punch her. His hands were shaking, blood was pounding in his head. He wanted to destroy her because she was mean to him and she was in his way. Kyle made his way to his car and sat there without starting up the engine for a long time.
    Sure, she’d been awful to him, but this was the mother of his kid, who’d raised Olive on her own all these years, and he wanted to hit her. He had never wanted to hit a woman before. The very thought of it made bile rise in this throat at the memories. His dad backhanding his mother, the cry that broke from her as she staggered, and the blood coming from the corner of her mouth. The bruises on his mother’s arms from where his dad had grabbed her and shaken her until her head lolled like a toy. The two teeth his mother spat into the bathroom sink when she didn’t know Kyle was watching, the times she’d stood between her boys and her husband’s belt.
    Kyle squeezed his eyes tight shut because they burned. His throat felt hot and it hurt. Maybe I’m getting sick , he thought, but when he opened his mouth, a sound came out that was suspiciously like a sob. He gripped the steering wheel, gritted his teeth, and growled aloud, trying to master his emotions.
    “Goddammit! Goddamn