Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooklyn
As soon as we came out of Dad’s office, I took a large step toward Liam and threw my arms around him. It’d been a while since we’d hugged—he was more of a back-clap type—but we found our mushy groove after a second or two. “Thank you for what you said in there. And I’m sorry for what I said about Chelsea. Even if it’s true.”
Liam looked down at me, one corner of his mouth kicking up. “Typically during an apology, you don’t point out how right you are.”
“As someone who’s experienced one of her”—Shane made air quotes—“‘apologies,’ I can attest that that’s the way hers go.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just couldn’t help overhearing.”
In spite of my crappy realization that I needed to erect an extra wall between Shane and me in order to survive the hectic month ahead of us, I reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Congrats on landing the fight.”
He opened his mouth, but Finn’s voice broke through first. “Are we going to stand around holding hands while we sing ‘Kumbaya’? Or are we going to get this lucky bastard”—he slapped Shane on the back—“ready for his fight?”
“My vote’s ‘Kumbaya,’” I said, “and I’m recording that shit and putting it on YouTube. Three big badass fighters singing songs of praise? It’ll be viral by the end of the day.”
“Yeah, along with questions about our sexuality,” Liam said, half grumble, half amusement.
“Brooklyn?” My happy vibes wilted as I glanced over my shoulder at Dad, who stood in the doorway of his office. “I wanted another minute with you. Please.”
I shoved my three guys toward the cage. “Go get to work, lazy butts. I’ll come over to demand you drop and give me twenty in a few.”
I turned back to Dad. “What’s up?”
“I’d make a comment about how naturally you fit in, but I know it’d only make you mad.”
“Good thing you held back, then.”
He glanced around and then stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know I’m not always an easy person to deal with.”
I figured shouting Cosign! wouldn’t make this conversation go any smoother.
“I am trying,” he said. “Liam’s right, though. You should take some time for yourself. To do your painting. And I can’t thank you enough for helping Knox land that fight. It’s going to be good for him, and good for Team Domination.”
“Well, I did it for him. He deserves it.”
“He does.”
The silence stretched, the way it often did between us. Finn was somehow in my head, even from across the gym, telling me to try. “I can appreciate how much you care about your fighters, and all you’ve built here. I’m also glad that you brought me to the gym with you when I was younger, and that I was taught self-defense moves and how to throw my weight behind my punches and kicks at an early age.”
My gaze drifted over the bags I’d learned to hit and then back to the guy who’d first taught me how. “When I say I don’t want a permanent position here, I’m not saying that I don’t love this gym”—I got unexpectedly choked up, my words clogging my throat for a second before I could get them out—“or love the buzz of a good fight. I’m just saying that I also need something that’s mine. I need to love what I do, the way you love what you do.”
Dad nodded. “I get that.”
My skepticism must’ve shown, because he added, “Well, I’m trying to.” He glanced at Finn and Shane, already running through drills while Liam barked commands at them. “Liam is off since Chelsea moved away, isn’t he?”
Since we were giving the nice thing a go, I kept my response on the softer side instead of leaning toward my more comfortable sarcastic one. “It’s definitely a factor. He seems more stressed in general, too.”
Dad let out a long exhale. “We’ve had a hard year. A hard two years, to be honest.”
“I see the books, so I kind of figured. Maybe take, like, ten extra seconds to consider my idea about opening it up to the general public and offering classes.”
“I—”
“That’s not even close to ten, Dad. Think about how much can happen when you hear that slap of wood that means ten seconds is left in a round.”
He absentmindedly cracked his knuckles, doing one hand and then the other. “That’s usually when I decide I could survive anything, even not having oxygen.”
I sighed. I pulled out all the fighter analogies and everything, and I still couldn’t get through to him.
“I promise I’ll think about it,” he said, placing his hand on my arm. “Depending on how Knox’s fight turns out—that’s gotta be my main focus for now.”
In this instance, he and I actually wanted the same thing—for Shane to win—so I decided I could give him that, even if it meant he’d need someone else to set it up. I also wanted to be crystal clear on that point, no more jabs about if I stayed and my duty to the family. “I’ll do my best to get all the bills sorted out and have you up and running before I leave, but I am going to leave. I know you think my art’s just a hobby, but gallery internships are hard to land. The one I have lined up is pretty much my dream job, and if I do well there, it could turn into a full-time thing. I can’t let that opportunity go to waste.”
His lips pursed but he nodded. “Maybe just visit more often?”
“That can probably be arranged.” My worry was that every time I came back, I’d see Shane and slip back into this world, and there was too much about it that wasn’t good for me.
…
“You never asked for twenty.”
After staring at the bright laptop screen for so long, it took a couple of blinks for my blurry vision to sharpen. Shane stood across from me, his forearms crossed on the countertop, which was a nice sight and all but didn’t help with my brain putting thoughts through to my mouth. “Huh?”
“Push-ups. Because I could totally do them.”
Of that, I had no doubt. But I’d taken it upon myself to keep his ego in check, so I said, “I can do twenty push-ups, so if you came over to impress me with that, you’re going to need to go bigger.”
He leaned closer, those green eyes of his doing the wolfish, unnerving thing. “Trust me, endurance isn’t something I have a problem with.”
I reached for my drink, then abandoned it, worrying he’d read too much into it—whether or not he’d come to the correct conclusion was inconsequential. “Walked right into that one.”
“Afraid so.” His cocky mask dropped, sincerity showing through. “I owe you, bruiser. This is the big break I’ve been hoping for, and it’s all because of you that I get to step into that cage.”
“So you’re thanking me for the fact that you’re going to get punched and kicked a lot?” I shook my head and clucked my tongue. “Talk about a masochist.”
“Babe, whenever I’m around you I’m a masochist. But make no mistake, I’ll be doing the majority of the punching and kicking in that fight.”
“Yeah, as long as you stay standing and land some of those solid punches and kicks you lean too heavily on. If you go to the floor, though…” I tapped my pen against my desk, going into analytical mode. “Your grappling game is going to need more work.”
“You don’t ever let up, do you?”
“Not for some guy who begs for more.” It came out before I realized how it’d sound. Time to draw the line. “I’ll make sure to pass on my advice to Finn, since he’s the ground-and-pound specialist. Now if you’ll excuse me, boring facts and figures await me.”
Speaking of… I frowned at the figures onscreen. That can’t be right. I must’ve missed something.
“I’ll give you till tonight.” Shane took a step back, his gaze locked on to mine. “But then I’m coming for you.”
Those words trickled down to the cracks that’d formed in my walls, whispering that maybe everything didn’t have to change. Maybe I should stop overthinking and just enjoy what time we had together, even if it couldn’t go the way I was tempted to let it.