This is the first Fall chapter, and it seemed only appropriate; things must fall apart, before these two realize how much they need to fall back together! (See what I did there, did you see that? 😅)

Hope you enjoy this..

Erika will have to learn to rely on first, before anybody else.

Smash that star if you liked this chapter. It helps me so much to see you enjoy my story.

Take care. J

"I didn't know you worked the shift with Jaxon Inkles."

His question took me off guard, and I mumbled a quiet "wasn't important," wishing he would leave it at that. Besides, it was the truth. At the time, I was preoccupied with pinning the man currently next to me on my bed, fighting to take off his shirt. Mentioning who I was working with was unimportant.

Instead of dwelling on the growing silence between us, I tried to cool down my reddened cheeks, before I turned to look at him. His vigilant green eyes caught my staring, before his lips turned upwards in a soft smile. Eyes that held so many secrets, must have seen many things, faced heartaches. I only knew bits and pieces about him and his family, including the fact that he lost his father ten years ago. I couldn't begin to imagine how painful that must have been for his family. Then to have their sibling going away, as aforementioned by Jax, was enough reason to break someone.

My train of thought was interrupted the moment my stomach decided to make a not-so-charming grumble. Ashamed, I tried to hide my face behind my hands, only for Brandon's hand to connect with mine, returning it back on his lap. An amused smirk appeared on his face, making me bite my lip at the emotions that erupted inside me.

"Breakfast it is," he said, voice smooth, as he made a sharp turn, changing our course of destination.

With the warm packed takeout-breakfast on my lap, we stepped in front of the King's family gym. 'Kings' Fitness' was in big, bold blue letters above the main entrance of the vast building, a glass-door revealing a large area with wooden floors and a lobby. The four-story building accompanied all sorts of fitness equipment, as well as separated training areas for kids and teenagers, as I've learned the minute my eyes scanned over the brochure of the expansive establishment.

I remained on the spot, unable to move in the lavish area of the gym, until Brandon pulled my hand towards the staircase and to the basement. Framed pictures of athletes adorned the walls, and I took a moment to read a few of the inscriptions below some of them.

Once in the basement, I was surprised at how large this floor was. If I thought the rest of the building was extensive, the basement was greater; built like a stadium, with rows of seats surrounding the middle, where an illuminated stage was separated from the rest of the room with red ropes. This was the King-family's underground boxing ring, and I realized that the stadium-like basement stretched all the way below the gym and parking lot.

"I really like this picture of you," I said, pointing towards the one illustrating a much younger Brandon in possession of a trophy, held by his father; both with their bright green eyes and contagious smiles.

Brandon had stopped right beside me, and his eyes traveled across the faces of the old photograph, before a softer smile, unlike the one in the picture, appeared on his face.

"You know how sometimes the lines and ridges on wooden floors can resemble faces?" he asked, and I nodded as pictures started piling up in my brain.

"As a kid, around the age of five, I found the faces horrifying, especially the ones in my grandpa's cabin. I couldn't go near the fireplace. The shadows created by the fire made this one face on the floor look like it was staring back at me, haunting me. It made me feel hopeless." He sighed; his eyes still connected to the softer green ones of his father.

"One night we were at the cabin, my father had picked me up, and told me that one day I won't feel that way. One day, it'll get less scary, as my body and mind grow." Interlacing our hands and fingers together in the quiet of the moment, he turned his gaze to me, and a warmer smile appeared on his face as he kissed my forehead, before tagging me along with him and towards the center stage.

I couldn't know why he decided to share that memory with me, but I cherished it, nonetheless. Little by little, he was opening up to me. He was sharing parts about his childhood that made him the man that he was today. I only hoped he could trust me enough to share more, and maybe even make me a part of his world.

"Come on, that mind of yours runs on energy. Can't have you starve." His warm breath on the skin of my neck made me shiver, his hand still entangled with mine, as we descended the rows of seats all the way down to the boxing stage he'd be fighting on soon.

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" He stepped under the ropes and into the middle of the ring, extending his hand towards me, but I was frozen in place. I felt unwelcomed on that stage; I didn't belong up there.

"Angel, come on, don't be ridiculous." His chuckle persuaded me to step next to him, and I let him pull me up on the stage.

Once surrounded by the confines of the ropes, I felt my heartbeat speeding up. An unexplainable feeling overtook me, as I imagined the man in front of me competing on this stage, while the crowd cheered for Guardian. Chills travelled down my spine in anticipation. I couldn't wait to cheer for him once more.

"Won't Elijah be upset you're out here eating breakfast with me, instead of resting before your big game?" I said, after I swallowed another bite from my sandwich.

"You got that right. Him and your chief Marshall would kill me, so let's keep this between us. It'll be our little secret."

At the mention of Dr. Marshall's name I remembered Anya, and my whole being froze. Was she alright?

The taste of salt brought me back to my senses, and I took the potato fry he was holding in front of me in between my lips. "Besides, right now, this is the only place I'd rather be." The smirk on his face was as charming as ever, as he fed me another fry.

"You're so cheesy," I declared, throwing a fry his way, that he caught expertly with his mouth.

"Don't fool yourself, Angel, we both know you love it." A fry flew my way, but of course, I wasn't as skilled or lucky as the lawyer-slash-boxer in front of me, and it didn't land in my mouth. Unfortunately for me, Brandon decided to choose a fry coated in melted cheese, only to ruin my perfectly good, oversized-white hoodie. "Who's cheesy now?" he chuckled like a child, and I stared dumbfounded at the new side that was revealed to me.

"Brandon, sei un animale!" It was probably one of my favorite hoodies, but I couldn't help how light I felt after the past couple of hours and laughed along with him.

It had to be cleaned before it stained, and so he dragged me through another door by the stage, 'Staff only' written on the silver sign, still snickering beside me. We entered a private room at the back of the hallway that could be easily mistaken for an office, if it weren't for the shower room and lockers at the back. It resembled a private dressing room, with more pictures and framed black and white newspaper clippings.

Carefully, I took off my hoodie and gave it to Brandon, who tried to clean it as best as possible, while I remained in a white tank-top and jean shorts. It was warm that day, but it got chilly in the early mornings or late nights, so I always kept a hoodie or jacket in my locker.

Left alone in the space of his personal locker-room, I took the time to marvel at the pictures on the wall. Some were really old, and the edges had turned yellow, while some of the newspaper clippings had stains on them.

Among the frames on the wall, what had caught my attention was a relatively smaller frame, almost hidden behind the shadows from the rest of the pictures. It was a family photo with the five members of the King-family, standing beside four new faces. On close inspection, I was surprised to recognize Jaxon's familiar blue eyes among the teenagers. He was holding the hand of the girl next to him; the girl I then realized resembled a younger Ariana King.

Teenage Brandon was standing behind his two sisters, holding another winning cup in his arms. His nose was covered with a plaster and his knuckles were bandaged up. Next to him was another boy, looking slightly older than the other two. He was resembling Jaxon, but not quite. This was another part of Brandon's world, and he was willingly showing me a glimpse of it.

Until now, my body was surrounded by warmth, but looking at that one picture created thoughts that stirred my being. I was so out of it before, his presence had soothed the thunderstorm inside me, but as I kept staring at the pictures, new puzzle pieces clicked in place. The moment I felt his breathing on my neck behind me, the Watergates had collapsed, flooding through the cobwebs of my thoughts.

"How did you know my night shift was with Jaxon tonight?" My voice came out small but held newfound power I wasn't sure I possessed.

Seconds had gone by before he answered with a simple: "Didn't you tell me?"

"No. You stated, in the car, that you didn't know I had the shift with him. But that was before I said anything about it." In the silence that followed I begged that he would say something, anything to ease the growing uncertainty inside me.

"You knew. How?" I turned around to face him. His green eyes were serious, inquiring, pressing... I was sure this was a glimpse defendants often faced in courtrooms, making me raise an eyebrow. I didn't want him to make up an answer. I wanted the truth.

"He texted me. He told me about your pager to let me know about the app you installed on your phone." His usual warm façade was hidden behind a stoic persona directed towards me for the first time.

And then it clicked in my head; the phone call minutes after my conversation with Jaxon, his insistence to give me a lift, his questions in the car about my shift. Did he know about Anya as well?

He already knew. He knew everything, all my moves, what I did in my day, and Jaxon, the person I trusted as a friend, was the one informing him.

"Is that what people do for you? Give you information about the people around you? About me? Is that why I'm here?" I inquired, frustration overwhelming me. "Was Jaxon the one who told you where I lived that night?"

At that he furrowed his eyebrows, exhaling, as he brought a hand to rub his mouth and chin.

On the spur of that first night, I was so drunk on alcohol and adrenaline that my brain couldn't come up with the question. He was there; that was all that mattered to me then. But now, the fact was bugging me and, unlike the past couple of weeks, I couldn't ignore it anymore.

"That would be Liam," he said, as if that was the most logical explanation.

"Why?" I asked frustrated, clenching my fists to stop me from punching his perfect jaw. "How did he find my address?"

He didn't fight the questions this time, instead he spoke in an emotionless tone that was freaking me out even more.

"He's good with codes. Hacking. It's the reason he ended up in juvie. With me." My eyes widened at the confession. It was the first time I heard anything about it. " As for the why, I wanted..." he paused, biting at his bottom lip, before he continued, "I needed to see you."

"And what about Jaxon? Is he spying on me?"

"No. No, Angel, I would never do that." The stoic mask cracked, as he took a hold of my hand, desperate to keep me close, but the warmth of his skin felt foreign on my colder hand.

"But you did. You did," I pressed, trying to pull my hand back, only for his other hand to take a hold of my wrist, his thumbs drawing indecipherable lines on my skin. "He gives you information about me-"

"No, that's not what happened. He just... told me. I didn't ask him to do that. We're not close, we're not friends, and as much as I hate myself for saying it, I can't trust him. Not yet, not with you." The mask broke, was gone, replaced with the desperation in his voice, as he pleaded with me to believe him. "But he knew about the incident that night we were both at the hospital, he knew you were almost caught in the crossfire. I didn't instruct him to keep tabs on you, just to keep you safe when I wasn't there."

"I'm not a fucking damsel in distress, Brandon. You're not my father or my brother to keep me safe. And you have no right to instruct people to do things for you." I was seething, as I pulled away from him. "God, how entitled do you think you are?"

My words stung; I felt it, from the hurt look on his face, before another mask was back in place. Angry as I was, I realized all the unanswered questions still buried dormant inside me; they were released like a hurricane. And the more answers I was given, the greedier the monster of curiosity had become inside me. I couldn't control it. I was afraid and tired of stepping on glass around him.

"That night at the hospital... who's 'Big Jim' and why did he send that man to hurt you?" I turned away from him; if I was doing this, then I had to look away from his eyes, or else I wouldn't be strong enough to take each answer.

"He wasn't planning to hurt me."

"That night you said he was there to kill you."

"He came to warn me. I had to do what he said, to keep the people in my life safe."

"Return to the ring? Is that what he wanted? Why you rushed back to this after all these years?"

"Yes." Stern, like the law.

"Why? Who is he holding against you? Who are you keeping safe?"

More words, more questions burst from me in an angry rush, but Brandon's sighs did nothing to stop me. What did, though, were his next movements; he stepped in front of me, his fingers pinched my chin, making me look at him, and I was silenced. "I know you have no reason to trust my words, but Jax was the one that reached out to me, not the other way around. I trust you, it's them I don't."

"Them, who is them? Why are you talking in codes? I'm a physician, Brandon, I need facts. All this read-in-between-the-lines is so tiring. Give me facts, I don't get what you're trying to say." Another sigh left his lips at my volcanic eruptions, before he tenderly placed them on my forehead and the soft caress of his lips flowed like a wave of ease though my body.

"Listen to me, Angel..." his eyes found mine, as he held me close, before he continued, "I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. That night at the hospital, you became a target, and I am the only one to blame. If I can somehow ensure your safety, then I'll do it. If you want to stay away from me, I will respect your choice, but I will keep protecting you every way I can." On reflex I gripped onto his t-shirt firmly, as I listened to him. "The people in my life aren't as gentle and kind as you and they will use means to get what they want, including me. Or you. Don't make me apologize for trying to keep you safe, I can't. I won't."

The cobweb of thoughts kept getting tangled in my brain. He could see the questions in my eyes but said the bare minimum to clear the fog in my brain.

"In the early hours of the morning... I was paged to see a patient. A young woman." His face turned stone cold, as he clenched his jaw. He sighed at my words, and I realized he already knew.

"This world is dangerous. It's not only athletes that are attracted by that stage." His voice was laced in poison, as he pointed towards the direction of the boxing ring inside his gym. "Influential, rich, strong people will be swarming the stadium in the hours to come. Corrupted politicians, judges, casino and strip club owners will be sitting together placing huge amounts of money on bets for their own satisfaction. Afterwards, they will assemble once again together and share rows of cocaine and women 'til they feel satisfied enough to go home and sleep soundly."

Venomous words left his mouth to describe the scene around the sport he loved, disguising the sadness in his eyes behind an angry tone, making my stomach clench with nerves.

"This is my world, Erika, and I hate myself every day for bringing you into this. But I will rot in hell, before I let anything happen to you. If there's a way for me to know you're safe, then so be it."

He stepped back, giving the both of us a chance to breathe in some well needed air, as he rubbed his scalp with both hands. I felt the tears in my eyes, fighting to be released, but I wouldn't let them. Not yet.

"Why?" His sharp exterior softened at the calm of my voice, revealing a gentle, but still sad, smile.

"Don't ask questions, you already know, you feel, the answers to, Angel."

His world was a rollercoaster, while mine was a funny ride for young children and families. I couldn't decide; not yet. I had to know more. He owed me some more.

"What does Jaxon's family have to do with this?" He released a long exhale, anticipating my question.

"I'm afraid if I tell you more, it will only put you in more danger." He turned around, opening a locker perpendicular to his desk, pulling out a black sport's hoodie. "I can't do that to you. I, myself, don't even know what I'm up against. I couldn't do that to you. I can't-"

"Brandon-"

"Erika, I can't-"

"You owe me this much." The air between us was filled with tension. Without meeting my eyes, he draped the hoodie around my shoulders, before taking ahold of my hand.

"I'm giving you a choice. A chance to walk out of my life, before you get tangled into more trouble. If you want to walk away, now's the time. You get to go home and forget everything about me. If I tell you, I will cling to your side to ensure you're safe."

"What are you talking about?" I kept asking, as he dragged me towards the exit.

"What's it gonna be, Ricci? Do you want me by your side?" The car's engine roared in the quiet night, and we were back on the road, driving towards different neighborhoods.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home."

"Why?"

"I'm giving you time and space." He sounded distanced, and I stifled a whimper that was trying to escape my throat.