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Color drained from her face as she grasped the reality of what could have happened. “I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t. But you could have killed someone, or yourself.” I’d been exaggerating. I doubted anything would have happened, but it could have. And then where would I have been?
That was last week. Things haven’t been much better since, though she’s still staying with me.
The memory of that day has my fingers twitching with the need to touch her, to see her. I’ve got two days until my next fight. It’s a big one, an important one that will guarantee me an invite to the biggest match of my career.
I’ve fought my whole life, for food, for shelter, to keep my mom and sister safe. I’ve been fighting for so long, I don’t know any other way. I set my sights on a goal, and plan, fight, and kick my way till I’ve decimated all in my path, making my dream a reality—in life and in the octagon. I can’t drop it all to become Frankie’s personal bodyguard. That’s important short-term, but I need to focus on the big picture. The Big Picture will allow me to take care of her the way she deserves, even though we can’t really be together.
I have to hold out, focus. She can’t distract me. I must behave as though she isn’t my world.
“You’re chopping those veggies like they have it out for you.” My Angel’s sultry voice has my cock stirring and my knife nearly slicing off my finger.
“They’re devious vegetables, particularly the onions.” I don’t glance her way. Two days. Then I’ll regroup and see about this thing between us.
She settles on a stool at the breakfast bar, facing me—too fucking close. Her vanilla scent washes over me. I shove a carrot in my mouth to keep from nibbling her.
“Can I get one?” She snags a carrot from the cutting board.
“Doesn’t seem I can stop you.” The coolness of my tone is all an act. Fuck if she doesn’t affect me on some deep level I don’t understand. It’s always been this way, and it always fucking confuses me.
“You could stop me at any time, and you know it.” She doesn’t try to hide her hurt.
I ignore it.
Two. Days.
I can do this.
Sliding the veggies into the wok, I toss and stir till cooked to crisp perfection, adding the mix of cooked chicken, steak, and shrimp back in to be coated in the sauce and let the flavors mingle. Behind me, she sets the table, fetches drinks, and sits. Waiting.
It feels like she’s waiting for more than dinner.
I fill her plate with more food than she can eat. My desire to provide for her is too strong to ignore. A smile cracks my cool façade when she digs in like she’s starving.
“Man, this is good. I’ll miss your cooking.”
The satisfied warmth that filled my chest at her praise dies on her last words. “I’ll only be gone a few days. Besides, I left you some meals in the fridge.”
“Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”
I lock eyes with her. “Whatdidyou mean, Angel?”
A wisp of a smile touches her perfect lips. She likes my pet name for her nearly as much as I do. She shrugs her good shoulder, breaking eye contact. “I mean, when I leave.”
I suppress the roar threatening to break free and bend my fork in half before her small hand touches mine. Instantly, I release the utensil. She hops up and grabs a new fork out of the drawer, replacing the mangled one.
“I thought you’d be happy to have me out of your hair, not cramping your style.” Her tentative words have my heart pounding. She has no idea how much I like having her here.Knowingshe’s here even when I’m not.
That’s because you’re King Asshole, asshole.“That’s what you think?”
She shrugs her damn shoulder again, her eyes on her plate. “Doesn’t matter.”
Like hell it doesn’t.
“I need to find my own place. Stand on my own two feet.”
You don’t have to leave me to be strong, Angel.
