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The space is no rundown fight club in a dark, humid basement. Astrid converted an empty big-box store into a legit gym with top of the line equipment. The whole place is painted gray, with bright overhead lights and mats along the walls. The people inside wear proper gear, and no one is hustling for a fight. On the wall is a list of rules printed in red letters—“NO BETTING” is printed in all caps. We stop next to a sparring ring with two lightweights facing off. The focus is on practice, not beating others into a sickening pulp.
Astrid keeps her gaze on the guy in blue as he jabs and weaves away from the guy in red. “Thank you for taking care of her,” she says to me. “And not just Eddie. I was surprised when she told me you were going yesterday.”
“I care about your sister. It’s the only reason I’m considering going back to school for three more years.” I pause. “Charlotte wants to drop out.”
Astrid’s eyebrow lifts. “She didn’t tell me that.”
“Ivymore is a good school.” I hesitate and put my thoughts together. “But she had a shit year. I don’t know how she got through it without losing her mind. The account, the stalker, the inheritance…”
“And the three of you,” adds Astrid, looking right at me.
Her attention switches back to the ring, and she shouts at the boxer in blue who’s pinned against the ropes. Her eyes blaze as she tells him to punch his way out of it. Astrid scoffs when the trainer has to split them up.
“You miss fighting?” I ask.
“Do you?” she counters. I notice the tiny smirk on her face she’s trying to hide.
It’s easier to watch the ring while we talk. “We didn’t make it easy for Charlotte,” I continue, “and maybe we’re still making it tough. At her gran’s, she kept staring at their wedding photo.”
Astrid scoffs as we walk toward the bleachers. “She was probably checking out the dress. We’ve talked about my complex relationship. It’s not the relationship. It’s about you, Jaxon, and Hudson. If it were three other guys, she wouldn’t be interested.”
She sits down and crosses her legs, eyeing the clients working out in her gym. Astrid isn’t the foul-mouthed girl from Weymouth anymore. And Charlotte is no longer the spoiled heiress from Rockingham. They didn’t like the situation life threw at them, so they chucked it back and created a new one.
“I told her to dump you many times,” Astrid says as I sit down. “I didn’t think you could be decent. Weymouth isn’t a town; it’s a personality trait. But then it’s not right for me to think I can change but nobody else can.”
“I don’t know how you did it,” I reply truthfully. “When I was at Monarch, I used textbooks to hit people. Now I’ve got to read them.”
Astrid laughs. “Treat it like a sport. Don’t struggle to impress. Move at your own pace. I took the easiest class I could sign up for in the topic I had the most interest in. Next year, I’ll take something a little harder until I know my stuff. Big secret. These upper-class kids really don’t care what you’re saying if it’s not about them. You’ve probably changed this year more than you realize.”
I nod. “You’re right. I thought I would be joining an MC, not a frat.”
She taps my shoulder with her fist. “We can do this.”
We watch the ring as blue boxer throws a right hook that sends red boxer down to the mat. The guy throws up his arms in victory while the trainer rushes to the guy bleeding on the floor. Astrid watches the scene unfold, unimpressed. She stands and tosses her car keys into my lap.
“I’m feeling bougie,” she says, walking toward the exit door. “Let’s go to the country club and see which one of us can fake it the longest without screwing up.”
CHAPTER 23
Charlotte
I don’t know where they disappeared to, but by the time Astrid and Asher return, they are laughing together and not at each other. Asher yanks the mystery tie off his neck and flops down on the new living room couch as if everything is completely normal. Astrid does a double take and eyes the newly furnished house.
“How much did you spend?” she asks, gawking.
Hudson reclines in a yellow velvet chair by the mantel. “She bought the store.” He laughs. “The sales guy turned pale and called the owner, thinking it was a prank.”
Astrid walks through the house with her eyes wider than her mouth. Touching lampshades and examining chairs. Eventually, she sits in one in the living room. Looking comfy, she stretches her legs out on a tufted ottoman. But she almost jumps out of her skin when Jaxon starts playing the piano. Astrid places her hand on her chest and scowls in the direction of the study, which has been turned into a music room.
“I need to go somewhere. Come with?” I ask her. “Just you and me?”
I drive us in the Prius out of Rockingham, heading down a road that leads out of town. Pockets of green space still surround the town past the city limit. Taking a deep breath, I tell her where we are going. “The Andersens told me where my father is buried. I want to see his grave.”
Astrid nods and then looks out the window as the distance between old wooden houses becomes farther apart, separated by tall grass concealing the horizon. She doesn’t speak as I process my thoughts and feelings. Maybe I shouldn’t have sprung it on her. Maybe I should’ve asked first.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m worried about you,” she replies.
