The Girl Worth Fighting for (The Girl #2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Girl Worth Fighting For

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Enjoy Other Titles by Julia Goda

  Copyright © 2016 Julia Goda

  All Rights reserved.

  e-book ISBN: 978-0-9940944-8-3

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, scanning, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to characters, organizations, or events of real life described in this novel is either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.

  Cover created by Dark Water Covers

  Editing provided by Neva Carter

  Formatted by CP Smith

  Acknowledgments

  I want to give a special shout-out to two of the best women I have ever met: CP “Teeny” Smith and Mayra Statham. Honest to god, this book would never have been finished if it weren’t for you two. You cheered me on when it was going well and didn’t stop when I wanted to give up. You took my venting and whining and frustrations and talked me off the edge many times. From the depths of my heart, thank you, for all you do. I am blessed to call you my soul sisters.

  To my beta readers, Margaret, Leanne, Dawn, and Carly, thank you for your patience. I know I kept you waiting again and again. Thank you not only for sticking with me, but for falling in love with my characters and giving me great suggestions to make them shine even brighter.

  To my editor, Neva Carter, thank you as well for not dropping me when I had to keep pushing my slot back further and further. I am so very grateful for all your patience and understanding, as well as for the great work you do.

  Thank you to all my friends, my readers, and to the bloggers and reviewers who took a chance on me and show me your continued support.

  At last, but never least, thank you, my love.

  Dedication

  Love is a peculiar thing.

  It can carry us to the highest highs,

  Show us the brightest lights,

  Make us feel wanted and good about ourselves.

  But it can also do the opposite.

  When people we love hurt us,

  We are dragged down to the lowest lows,

  See the darkest darkness,

  Feel unwanted and undeserving.

  This book is dedicated to all of you who have felt unloved and undeserving of affection.

  Be strong and believe in yourself.

  Be strong and believe that you are worth it.

  Because you are.

  You are worth fighting for.

  Bruises fade.

  A cut can be damaged.

  A broken bone healed.

  But when you know someone you love

  Doesn’t care…

  That is a wound you cannot recover from.

  Or can you?

  Chapter 1

  Ten Years Ago

  The Night That Changed Everything

  ALL I COULD HEAR WAS the roar in the arena, people screaming and shouting, chanting my father’s name. I watched on the screen as he walked to the ring and was a little relieved that I wasn’t sitting in the crowd. Even from back here the noise was overwhelming, the anticipation so intense it was almost scary. I was sitting in front of the TV in the small room across the hall from the dressing rooms, away and out of sight of the actual goings-on, tucked away safely with my nanny, Mona, watching over me. I had begged and begged my parents to let me be here, so I could be there for Dad, but the only concession my mother was willing to make was letting me watch the fight on the screen in the catacombs of the huge Las Vegas arena.

  My stomach flip-flopped as I watched my dad step through the ropes and enter the ring to defend his Light Heavyweight title. I watched in happy anticipation as he took his robe off and handed it to his trainer, then kept watching and waiting for him to do what he always did: lift his glove-clad right hand first to his chest then to his lips to blow me a kiss as he stared straight into the camera. It was our ritual. It was his way of telling me that he got this and I didn’t have to be worried. Because I always was and he knew it. I was scared for him to get hit too many times, terrified that he would get seriously hurt. I was a daddy’s girl. I loved my dad more than anything in the world and couldn’t stand seeing him get hit. Which made his being a pro boxer hard since he got punched pretty much every day. To fight my fears and worry, my dad had taken me to the gym almost every day since I was six, watching for the first few months, then learning and training myself. I could count myself lucky to be trained by association by one of the best teams out there and to have a world champion father as my dad. I was only fourteen years old now, but I probably knew way more about boxing than most adults in this arena. And practicing the sport myself helped a lot. Knowing all about it, knowing about Dad’s strengths and his defense tactics did help alleviate my fears, though it didn’t mean I stopped worrying completely.

  Now this was usually where Mona would turn off the TV and turn on a movie in the hopes of distracting me. Which never worked, of course. It only made me more nervous. Or so I’d thought. The nervous energy swirling inside me now made my heart beat in my throat and my hands sweaty. I fidgeted on the couch beside Mona, willing the fight to finally start so it would be over sooner.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Rainey. He’s got this. He always does,” Mona reassured me.

  “I know,” I whispered. “It’s just…that guy looks so mean and big.” And he did. I knew he couldn’t be heavier than my dad since they were fighting in the same class, but he looked huge. And the expression on his face couldn’t be described as anything but hostile, which escalated my nervousness even further.

  He looked like he was out for blood.

  Finally, the bell rang and the fight began.

  They started off slow during the first round, both testing each other, trying to work around each other’s defense. I shouted, “Yes!” and, “Get him, Dad!” whenever he landed a hit, and flinched every time a jab got through his defense and landed in his face or ribs. My mom was right; this was so very different from anything I had seen during any of the training sessions, even the ones during the past few months when his training went up a notch and he started fighting his partners almost for real in the practice ring. In the fifth round, blood started to flow on both their faces. I hid behind my hands when my dad’s lip split open, then jumped up cheering and shouting when he countered with a quick left hook to his opponent’s temple in revenge, drawing blood as well.

  It was looking good. Even though they were only in the fifth round, I knew my dad was winning. He won at least three of those rounds and was leading this one as well. Though they were evenly matched in their technique and power, my dad was faster. His fighter name was Rapid for a rea
son. He was going to win this fight. I was sure of it. And so was he, I could tell. A huge grin spread across my face then turned into a flinch when out of nowhere, a vicious right hook caught him at the side of the head, right on the temple, and he stumbled backwards. He shook his head and kept moving, but I could see something wasn’t right. Before he could shake it off, he caught another hook in the exact same spot.

  “Put your fists up!” I shouted. “Up, Dad! Put them up!” But it was no use. I watched helplessly as he got pummelled over and over again. I checked the clock counting backwards at the bottom of the screen: twenty seconds until the bell. “Come on, Dad! Come on!” I was crying now as I kneeled in front of the TV. “No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered.

  Then with one last hit it was over.

  My heart stopped as I watched him go down and he landed face first on the canvas, his body bouncing until he lay there unmoving, his eyes closed, blood streaming down his face.

  “No,” I whimpered, my heart breaking at seeing my dad like that, beaten and defeated, hurt. Then Mona snatched me up in her arms and buried my face against her chest. “Dad,” I cried.

  That night was the worst night of my life.

  It was the night everything changed.

  Chapter 2

  Rainey

  “OH MY GOD! LOOK AT HIM!”

  I rolled my eyes at hearing the girls swooning and giggling yet again. I was on my way to Lizzy’s office and passed the common room, where a group of girls was sitting on the couch, staring at the object of their fascination: Logan Danvers, our newest, high-profile volunteer.

  If I looked at it objectively, I could see where they were coming from. Logan was hot. No doubt about it. He was six feet (at least that was my guess) of pure muscle, with dark blond hair and blazing, blue eyes. The jeans and shirts he wore always fit him perfectly, too perfectly. And his smile. Jeez, if I allowed myself to go there, that smile could be my undoing: it was perfectly straight, showing off his equally perfect white teeth; it was warm and looked sincere. And those dimples. Jesus, I didn’t know that dimples could be sexy on a man. I had always thought they were too boyish to be attractive, but on Logan’s handsomely chiselled face they were sexy.

  But he and I could never happen. I had a rule I lived by, a rule I wouldn’t break for anyone. I knew men like him, arrogant and self-righteous men who fucked everything up if things didn’t go their way—or even when they did. The risk was just too high. I had been subjected to that once already in my life, had been helpless and too scared to do anything about it, then disappointed and angry and so many other things I don’t need or want to revisit. Ever. I had sworn to myself to never end up in that position again. So there was no way Logan and I would ever get involved, no matter how hard he tried.

  And he had tried.

  Oh boy, had he ever.

  Every day he showed up at the shelter and tried to charm me into going out with him or talking to him, but I brushed him off. Every. Single. Time. In the beginning, I had politely declined, but as he kept at me, I had become ruder and ruder.

  Now, I was almost hostile.

  I wasn’t a rude person in general. I was actually nice and understanding, compassionate and caring. That was one of the reasons why I wanted to work with underprivileged children and had ended up studying Social Services. I had been hired by this shelter in the bad part of Boston right after I graduated from college two years ago, and loved it. I loved to be able to make a difference in the kids’ lives. No, it wasn’t all roses and rainbows. Far from it. But if I could make one kid feel safe even for a few hours a day, that was all I wanted. So no, I wasn’t a rude person. But Logan pushed my buttons the wrong way, and I couldn’t help but lash out at him whenever he tried to chat me up.

  You’d think he would have got the hint by now, but he was the most persistent and frustrating male I had ever turned down. Usually, a few snide remarks or the silent treatment after the initial letdown worked wonders, but not with Logan. He seemed to find my behavior amusing and only came after me harder, as if I were some kind of challenge, which in return fueled my anger more.

  I was no one’s challenge.

  I walked down the hallway to Lizzy’s office without looking at Logan, even though I could feel his eyes on me, knocked on her door, then opened it when I heard her say, “Come in.”

  Lizzy was a beauty in the true sense of the word. Her green eyes sparkled at me with annoyance when I closed the door behind me and sat down in front of her desk in the free chair beside the object of her annoyance: her husband Cole. Cole and Lizzy got married in July, just a few months ago. Without asking what was going on, I already knew why Lizzy was annoyed. She was five months pregnant and her protective and overbearing husband was driving her up the wall. It was a daily occurrence. Cole would come in at some point during the day to check on his wife and baby, make sure she had eaten, even bring some kind of healthy food or a smoothie. In the beginning, Lizzy had been happy and delighted with her husband, but it didn’t take long for that happiness to turn into frustration. I didn’t blame her. Cole was a great man, perfect for Lizzy. He loved her with everything he was and would do anything in his power to make her happy. Anyone could see that by the way he looked at her and by the way he treated her every day. Every minute of the day.

  But he could also be an idiot.

  Lizzy was an independent woman, a spitfire. She and I had that in common, which is probably why we got along so well. We understood each other and didn’t take offense. Cole knew this about her. They had grown up together, and I’d heard enough stories about his frustrations with her stubbornness and need for independence. That hadn’t changed just because they were married. It was hilarious to watch on most occasions, but I could tell by the look on her face that Lizzy was on the verge of exploding.

  “Liz.” Cole’s voice was reprimanding. Lizzy’s eyes snapped from me to her husband. Oh dear. Now he had done it.

  “Let it go, Cole.” That was a warning. Probably not the first one she had given him, judging by her seething tone.

  “I’m not gonna let this go. You need to—”

  “I don’t need to do shit, Cole. I swear to God, if you don’t let this go right now, I will move out until this baby is born.” Yowza. That was a low blow, but I could tell she was serious.

  “In fact,” her eyes came back to me, “Rainey, you live all alone in that cute house of yours. Mind some company for the next four months?” My eyes bulged. Why is she pulling me into this? Before I could react though, Cole’s eyes narrowed on his wife as he ground out, “You and my baby aren’t going anywhere. You belong with me. In our house. End of story.”

  They were locked in a glaring contest. “Back off. I mean it.”

  I considered my chances of sneaking out without being noticed when Cole broke the stare down and sighed, disgruntled. “All right, I’ll back off.” Then he got up and went around the desk. He cupped Lizzy’s face tenderly, as if they hadn’t just been in a massive argument, and kissed her deeply. I averted my eyes and smiled to myself. Those two were completely crazy.

  “I love you,” I heard Cole whisper softly. “No matter what. Never forget that.”

  “I love you too. And I won’t,” Lizzy murmured back.

  When I looked up again, I saw Cole’s head bent over Lizzy’s stomach. “And I love you, baby girl. Always and forever.” Then he placed a kiss right on her protruding cute little baby bump. My heart melted at the same time it cracked. Memories flashed through my mind of my father saying those exact words to me in a soft, loving, and adoring voice. By the time I could shake it off, Cole had left the room and Lizzy’s eyes were on me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked me, concern in her voice.

  I plastered a smile on my face. “Of course I am.”

  Lizzy’s eyes narrowed on me. “You know, you’re a shitty liar, Rainey. Spill.”

  I sighed.

  This opening up to your girlfriends thing was still new for me. After that fateful night ten
years ago and with what happened after, I had started to close myself off. I didn’t make friends easily, didn’t trust people enough to share my feelings. But Lizzy and I had become good friends, especially in the past year or so. She was like me: a no-nonsense girl who didn’t have patience for fake people, who said what she thought and did what she thought was right. It was refreshing. There weren’t many women like that out there. The only two friends I’d had for so long were my mother and Ben, our neighbour, who had become somewhat of a father figure to me, at least as much as I let him. But they were the only two people I had trusted for so long that it was hard for me to open up to anyone else. Lizzy understood, but she also knew me well enough to know that I needed a little push every now and then, that I needed someone to push me just right to share something. Anything. Push, but not push too hard. Lizzy was a master at it, but then again, I already trusted her. We had shared our stories with each other, making her the only person aside from Ben who knew who I was.

  “Cole is going to be a great father.”

  Her eyes softened on me. She understood. I knew she would.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. Then her voice turned annoyed again when she said, “But I swear to God, I’m gonna cut his balls off while he’s sleeping if he keeps this up. I’m not gonna go through this again.”

  I laughed. “So you’re having a girl?”

  Lizzy grinned. “Yes, we’re having a girl. And let me tell you, ever since we found out during our ultrasound last week, Cole has been even more impossible. Now he has two girls to watch over. He’s turned into the specimen of male protectiveness. He’s like a caveman. It’s driving me absolutely nuts!”