SICK HEART by Huss, JA (nice books to read TXT) 📗

Like he’s not sure he should say anything more. But then he shrugs, giving in. “Because, Cort, I stopped putting you first the moment you took Anya off the ship with you.”

Our eyes are locked for a few moments.

Maybe he takes off once we’re officially out. Maybe running a supply ship isn’t his idea of freedom either. Or maybe… maybe we’re just over.

And when that thought enters my mind, I realize something. I’m not ready to let him go. “So you’re out?”

He pokes me in the chest. Hard. “From the way I see it, I’m the only one still in. So maybe you should be asking yourself that question.”

“You just said you stopped putting me first when I put Anya on that helicopter.”

“Yeah. Because how fucking stupid do you think I am? You and her spend an entire month out here alone and you expect me to believe things didn’t change?”

“If you want to know if I fucked her, just ask me if I fucked her.”

He smiles and some of the tension releases from his shoulders. They drop a little. “Since when,” he says in a low voice, “have I ever cared about who you fucked, Cort?”

I shrug. “That’s why I’m confused. Why are you acting this way? She’s not a threat to us—”

“Us?” He laughs. “Fuck you.”

He starts to turn but I grab his upper arm. “Wait.”

His dark eyes flash at me. “What?”

“What do I have to do to make this better?”

“Which part isn’t good?”

“You know which part.”

“Say it out loud, Cort. For once in your fucking life, say it out loud.”

“You and me, that’s the part that’s not good. And I don’t want it to be this way. If we don’t stick together now then what was the point of all those years?” He doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. “If we go our separate ways, Maart, then all those years turn into a business transaction. And that’s not what it was.”

“Wasn’t it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “When we decided that I would stop competing and be your medic and trainer, wasn’t that a business transaction?”

“Not to me, it wasn’t.”

“Hmm. Well, you never were the clearest thinker.”

“So this is how it ends?”

“I never said it was over. That was you.” He pokes me in the chest. “Stop using your sick fucking heart like a brain. It’s not rational. It makes bad decisions. We both know this. And it’s controlling you right now.”

“Why do you say that? Because I care about my fucking kids? Because I don’t want to see Anya taken away to Udulf’s fucking harem?”

“Your kids?” He scoffs. “Which of them are yours, Cort? And which of them are mine?”

“They’re ours.”

“No. Not all of them. Ainsey and Evard only belong to you, right? And you’re coddling that girl like you’re her fucking father or something.”

“I am. I’m sorry you don’t like that—”

“Don’t like it?” His eyebrows shoot up. “I give no fucks about your individual relationship with any of these kids. I love them all the same. Ainsey is no different than Irina. Do you think I want to leave Irina behind? Do you think I like watching these boys and girls work their asses off in a constant state of fear for over a decade, only to watch them be killed in a ritualistic fistfight to appease the rich and sick of this disgusting, evil world? Fuck you, Cort. Just fuck you. I do this because they make me.”

“I’m not doing this for fun, either.”

“No. Of course not. But you seem to think that you’re better than me because you have that sick heart inside your chest and I don’t.” He points his finger in my face. “And that doesn’t make you better, Cort. It just makes you softer. We both know I would’ve done better than you in the ring. But you’re not smart enough to put me back together after the fights. So I gave it up to keep you alive. But I want to make something very clear right now.” His eyes are seething with anger. “I would’ve gotten them all out. I would’ve fought for all of them. And the reason you have to leave Ainsey behind—the reason you have to leave Cintia, and Ling, and Sissy behind, even though they stood next to you all these years—is because you’re too weak to accept the ultimate Ring of Fire challenge and pay the real price of freedom.”

“The real price. And what the hell would that be?”

Maart huffs. “If you don’t know, I can’t help you. And if you want me to stick around after this shit show is up, then stay the fuck away from Anya. She’s going to ruin everything and I did not spend the last twenty years working my ass off and making all these sacrifices just so your sick heart can bleed all over me in the end.”

He stares at me with blazing eyes for a few moments, his chest rising and falling too fast, his hands balled up into fists, his anger so thick it seeps out of his pores. And then he turns and walks off towards the other side of the platform.

I let out a long sigh and then turn towards the stairs. Ainsey almost has that bed near the stairs. But I don’t stop to ask her how she thinks she’s gonna get it all the way up to the top platform. I just pass right on by, ignoring that ache in my chest, playing Maart’s words over and over in my head.

When I get to the training platform I pause. Because I was gonna celebrate with Anya tonight. I was gonna grab the half-empty bottle of Lectra, take her up to the roof, get her drunk, and then maybe fuck her under the moonlight.

But not anymore, thanks to Maart.

Stay away from her. She’s gonna ruin everything.

No, that’s not true. He’s the one ruining everything.

But I don’t go looking for her in the clinic. I don’t even go check on her. I just