Chapter Sixteen
Shane
I’d spent yesterday with my boys, hoping that would pull me out of the funk I’d been in for most of last week. I thought I’d covered it up well, but right before I’d left Hector’s last night, he asked if the stress of returning to the cage was getting to me.
I’d told him no, that I was beyond ready to get my career back on track, which was true. Then, in the way true friends did, he asked me what crawled up my ass and died. I’d hesitated, not wanting to go into it because it meant having to say her name, and I was already going out of my mind wondering if she was spending the weekend with her boyfriend. Kissing him, fucking him—basically all things that I didn’t want to think about. But I’d met Hector when I’d first moved to San Diego, and he was one of the few guys who’d stuck with me through all the ups and downs. He was there through my quick rise to fame, and there when I crashed back down to being a nobody. “This girl…”
Understanding had smoothed his features. “Ah. Lady troubles.”
I’d raked a hand through my hair. “I can’t get her out of my head. She’s a bad idea on so many levels that it almost seems like a cruel joke, but I don’t give a shit. I want her like I’ve never wanted any woman before.”
Thanks to my messed-up priorities, I’d decided to come to the gym as late as possible Monday evening instead of getting my workout in early, the way I preferred. That way, my path wouldn’t cross Brooklyn’s quite as much. Then I wouldn’t do something stupid, like say, lose my mind and corner her in the locker room, my control one thread from snapping with her lips so close to mine.
As much as I craved seeing her and hearing her voice, I didn’t need an extra form of torture on top of my training, and for the sake of getting a good, focused workout in, I hoped she’d already gone home for the day.
When I stepped into the gym, I didn’t see a single soul. The bags hung in place, the large caged area and raised octagon were empty, and the line of treadmills and weight machines was equally as empty. It was a regular jock ghost town.
Good, I’ll have the place to myself, no one distracting me, and no one barking orders and hitting me for getting distracted. It was weird they’d left the gym unlocked, but one of the guys might’ve gone to grab food at a nearby shop or something like that.
As I strode past the front desk, though, I spotted a blond head resting on it. Did they really leave her here all alone? I glanced into the office and even called out, but no one answered. Brooklyn insisted she could take care of herself, but I didn’t like that her brothers and dad were so unbothered about leaving her alone in the gym at night. Anyone could’ve come in off the street.
I rounded the half wall, planning on shaking her awake, but she looked so peaceful, and if she was exhausted enough to fall asleep half sitting, on a hard surface like that, she needed the rest. Blake had a couch in his office, and that was at least a more comfortable option. I’d wake her after my workout.
I tossed my bag aside and then slid an arm around her shoulders and one under her knees.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“I’m just moving you to the couch,” I said softly.
She fought to open her eyes. “I…there’s a load of towels in the washer and I…” She yawned. “I’ll change them over real quick and…” Her lids drooped again.
I carried her into Blake’s office and laid her down on the couch.
“No, I gotta…laundry, so I can go home.”
“I’ll take care of the towels,” I whispered, and I couldn’t help running my fingertips across the soft skin of her cheek and jaw. “Just get some sleep for now.”
“Okay, like, ten minutes,” she said, snuggling deeper into the cushions of the couch. I’d never been jealous of furniture before, but here we were.
I walked back to the washer and dryer and switched over the laundry. I checked on Brooklyn, who was sleeping soundly, then stepped onto a treadmill. I programmed high-intervals for four miles, and once I’d run those, I worked the bag. First punches then kicks, then combos.
As hard as I pushed my body, I couldn’t shake the antsy sensation crawling through me. Brooklyn was only a room away, and after a few awesome interactions, followed by a few frustrating ones, I missed her.
How could I miss her?
How could I let this opportunity to talk to her—the real, unguarded version of her—pass me by?
Because you’re standing here asking that fucking question instead of doing your training. Instead of thinking of the next fight…
With that thought in mind, I forced myself to do five more minutes of combos, punches, and kicks, and then I hit the locker room. And when I stepped into the shower, I made it a nice and cold one.