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Fear choked me with its grip. I was beginning to see all too clearly she wasn’t exaggerating. The proof was right there in our kitchen bin.
I had to get Brooke’s father to pay up.
I’d already lost Kian.
I wasn’t losing Rebel too.
11
KIAN
Ihadn’t been out of the construction manager’s office for longer than an hour before he called my phone and offered me the job.
A big part of me wanted to say no. I’d worked at Bart’s house for years. I liked running it. I was good at keeping the creaky old mansion from falling into complete disrepair.
But it was hardly a career.
I’d needed to move on for a long time. I’d only stuck around because I hadn’t wanted to disappoint Bart and Miranda.
Same old shit, different day. I was always more worried about everyone else than I ever was about myself. If I’d put myself first, maybe I would have stayed away at college when my dad got sick. I could have had a professional career in sports, instead of dropping out to come back here and watch him wither away slowly and painfully as cancer racked his body.
If I’d put myself first, maybe I wouldn’t have spent a decade lusting over a man who left me to marry someone else. I could have found someone, fallen in love, started a family. Instead of sitting in the parking lot at the gym, desperate to take my frustrations out on a punching bag.
I sighed and dragged myself out of my truck. I’d just yesterday accused Vaughn and Rebel of being assholes for only ever thinking of themselves, but it had been unfair. Life hadn’t been kind to Rebel, and making out she wasn’t a good person made me feel sick with regret. She was just trying to understand what had happened to her mom while trying not to let the grief pull her under.
I’d been too hard on Vaughn too. If I was being honest, a little of my problem with him was that Rebel loved him.
I was so stupidly in love with both of them and spiraling because neither of them seemed to feel the same.
I was so fucking pathetic. It was the story of my life. Big and good at sports. Reasonably attractive. Dumb as a doornail.
I really needed to hit something.
I stormed the gym, grunting a hello at Gino, sitting behind the front desk watching YouTube on his phone. He waved distractedly as I passed, but I didn’t stop to chat.
I wasn’t good company for anyone in the mood I was in. There were two rings in the gym, and my favorite was the one in the back right-hand corner. I made a beeline for it, hoping it would be empty.
It wasn’t.
A teenage fighter danced around the ring, hands up, protecting his face.
Another man held a set of pads for the kid to punch.
Luca Guerra.
I would have recognized him, even if he hadn’t been wearing fitted business pants and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, which made him as out of place in this gym as the last time I’d seen him here. His tanned skin rippled with muscles hidden beneath, and his pants pulled tight across his ass. He caught my eye and jerked his head in acknowledgement.
I returned the nod but went to the boxing bags hanging from the ceiling. I could wait until they were finished. I needed to warm up anyway.
I sat, watching him train the younger fighter while I took off my work boots and socks. I wrapped my hands and then pulled off my T-shirt. I only had one with me, and I didn’t need it getting all sweaty when I was going to have to wear it home.
I didn’t miss Luca’s interest in my direction, my shirt falling in a clump on top of my bag.
I warmed up slowly, jogging on the spot, shifting my weight from foot to foot and striking the bag with quick, smooth, strong punches.
“Done for the night, Scott. See you later.” Luca’s voice was deep and smooth like fucking butter as he dismissed his fighter.
The younger guy fist bumped me, headed for the locker rooms.
