Somehow, despite the short time I’d spent with him, something seemed to have clicked. Maybe it was how nice he was, when most people in my world, including my own friends, weren’t. Or maybe it was something else, something moremagnetic. Whatever it was, somehow I’d felt different—almostfree—with him.
I wanted to feel it again. Almost like I wanted to be near him again… Slowly, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the scrap of paper he’d handed me. I unfolded it, my fingers trembling slightly.
His phone number was scrawled in black ink, bold and unapologetic, just like him.
I stared at the digits, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wanted to call him. I wanted to hear his voice. But I wondered what I would say, or if he’d even pick up a call from a girl like me.
I looked down at the paper, my chance at rebellion sitting heavy in my palm.
It… didn’t feel distant anymore.
It felt… possible.
And it felt close.
Almost too close.
Chapter three
Tristian
The thud of gloves against heavy leather finally stopped, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing echoing in the gym. I unstrapped my gloves, my knuckles aching in a way that usually brought me peace, but today the adrenaline wasn’t enough. It wasn’t scrubbing Ingrid from my mind—the sight of her walking away from my car last night, the sway of those hips, the image of her eyes looking up at me.
She hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Why not?
It had been bugging me nonstop. So I headed to the gym with Kane. I thought I could punch my rage and confusion out—and it had worked, to a degree. Ingrid’s failure to reach out had been pushed to farther corners of my mind, though she wasn’t completely gone.
Someone else had come up in her place instead, though: my mother. I hadn’t seen her in days. I had been so busy running from my own thoughts that I had neglected the one person who actually needed me.
“Went hard today,” Kane said when our session was finished, toweling off the sweat from his neck as we pushed through the gym’s double doors. “You trying to kill the bag or yourself?”
“Just clearing my head,” I muttered.
The afternoon air was cool. It felt good on my overheated skin.
“Let’s get Denny’s. I’m starving,” Kane suggested.
I opened my mouth to agree, but the words died in my throat. Leaning against the brick wall near the entrance, looking like he’d been waiting for exactly this moment, lurked Brandon. He was a fit but lean, sharp-eyed bastard that had the kind of shitty smirk that made you want to rearrange his face.
Said smirk was plastered on his face as he pushed off the wall to block our path.
My jaw tightened. I tried to step around him, but he side-stepped, mirroring me.
“Look who it is,” Brandon chuckled, looking me up and down. “The golden boy and his shadow.”
“Move, Brandon,” Kane warned, stepping up to my shoulder. “Not in the mood for your shit today.”
“I’m just trying to be friendly,” Brandon said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes remained predatory. He turned his gaze to me. “Nothing wrong with being friendly, is there?”
I didn’t bother looking at him. “He said move.”
I shoved past, smashing my shoulder hard into his. I was bigger than him, though not by much. Brandon boxed at this gym too. He mostly gave Kane and me a wide berth—we’d had run-ins before, mostly crossed words, although a punch or two had been thrown in the past, usually by me. This afternoon, though, he’d gone out of his way to intercept us. I didn’t really care to know why—but he wasn’t going to let me leave without me knowing.
“Darragh’s been asking after you,” came Brandon’s voice from behind.
I froze.
I could hear the cocky smirk in his tone. “Yeah, thought that’d get your attention.”
