Hammered (Blue Bay Crew #3)- Cathryn Fox Page 0,83

my throat.

“Tyler,” Haven says, her voice a bit shaky. Clearly, she’s as confused and surprised as I am. “Is that…” She leans closer to the TV, and I look at the image through her eyes. I was leaner then, tougher, my face harder, with more angles, but make no mistake about it, that’s me on the screen, entering the cage for my very first fight.

I set my plate onto the coffee table and brace my elbows on my knees. “Yeah, that’s me.” My insides twist and my throat squeezes so tight, breathing becomes near impossible.

“Ty,” Haven says and puts her hand on my arm, clearly picking up on my confusion as I try to catch a breath to refill my lungs. Restless, and antsy, I stand on shaky legs and rake my hand through my hair, tugging hard enough to cause pain—an effort to distract myself and keep the tears at bay.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” I say, even though I already know, and pick up the case with the rest of the DVDs inside. I tug them out, and flip through them. They all have my name and dates. Lungs seized, I drop back down beside Haven, put my elbows on my knees, and cover my face with my hand.

“Holy fuck,” I say my words mumbled behind my palms. Haven goes perfectly still. I’m not even sure if she’s breathing. Fuck, I’m not sure I am either. My stomach clenches, like I’d just been sucker punched. I guess in a way I have been. Standing back up, I grab another DVD, and shove it into the machine. I stand there, and when my face fills the screen, as I prepare for another fight, every muscle in my body tenses, each cord so taut, I’m sure something is going to snap. I toss in a third DVD, a fourth and a fifth, and every single one has my father’s writing on it.

“He…recorded…” I choke on my words, try to get them out, but they’re stuck deep in my throat. I grab a fistful of hair and tug again as I try to wrap my brain around this.

My father recorded my fights?

A deep tortured sound I have no control over crawls out of my throat, and Haven is right there, her arms around me, holding me tight as I sort through this unexpected discovery. I just stand there, wrapped in her arms, adrenaline flooding my body like I’m going into fight or flight mode. I swallow, a little less unstable on my feet. Grief and shock work their way through my body, and suddenly I’m exhausted. Too exhausted to stand—to think with any sort of clarity. As my brain and body shut down, it leaves room for a barrage of emotions to tear through me.

I back up, and Haven comes with me. Unceremoniously, I plunk back down on the sofa and she reaches for the remote to lower the volume. Acid burns up my esophagus, my insides raked raw as my world tilts on its axis.

“Haven,” I say, my voice rough, like someone took a cheese grater to my throat.

“I’m here.” I tug her to me, cradle her head in my arms.

“I never knew,” I say, my voice low and hollow.

She shifts and puts her arms around me. “He was proud of you, Ty.”

As soon as those words leave her mouth, my chest squeezes tight and tears pound behind my eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Real men don’t cry, right? That’s what dear old Dad always told us. Despite it all, I am who I am because of him, and to be honest, I like who I am. I especially like who I am with Haven.

“It’s okay to cry, Ty.”

I swallow hard and take a sobbing breath as the overflow of tears falls down my cheeks. I swipe at them, and take a deep, hard breath. Dad wouldn’t want to see me cry. But he’s not here to see me, just like he wasn’t at any of my fights. That doesn’t mean he hadn’t seen them, though.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Never, ever in my life did I expect to find DVDs with my fights, and judging by how many there are, he recorded every single one. I snort and shake my head.

Haven cups my face, her touch like a healing balm to the open wounds I never thought would heal. She gives me a soft smile. “He was proud of you,” she says again, and that’s when I understand