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“Food first.” I pat my stomach. “I could eat an entire cow.”
Cowboy groans. “A steak sounds amazing.”
“Shower. I’ll meet y’all out front.” Jonah leaves us to talk to Warren, Cap’s Vegas manager.
A hand on Landry’s shoulder stops his progress. “Think about what I said. Keep things in perspective. You’ve got talent. You could go far, but don’t let your ego think you deserve more than your skills are capable of. Submission might mean defeat today, but it also means you get a chance to win tomorrow. Injury means your chance at winning is further down the road.” I release him and strip on my way to the shower. “It doesn’t mean you don’t fight like hell. It means when you get stuck, you need to be man enough to realize it. You feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel ya. Thanks for the advice. I really appreciate it.” He steps in the shower stall down from me.
“We all start somewhere. The key is to listen and learn.” I was him once. Thought I was tougher than every other fighter out there, and most times, I was. It took some hard knocks and guys better than me, willing to show me the ropes, to knock me down a peg or two. Submission is a hard lesson to learn for guys like us who believe we’re better than that. Learning to pick your battles is key to a successful career. Maybe even in life.
As I soap up, my mind wanders to Frankie. Did I give up too easily, or did I only submit to come back and fight another day?
“Have you heard from her?” Jonah leans in, his voice quiet so his question is only for my ears.
I shake my head and take a drink of the only beer I’m allowed to have tonight. When I’m in training, which is all the damn time, I don’t drink often, but this close to my match—three weeks away—I limit it to one beer a week and usually on Fridays, and never, never the hard stuff. I savor the cool ale as it slides down my throat like it’s my hand sliding down my Angel’s body to her sweet spot. My heaven on Earth.
“Have you reached out toher?”
His question receives the same negative reply.Nope. His disbelief is apparent. What he doesn’t get—what none of them get—is I’m an all-in or all-out kinda guy. Frankie told me I don’t know how to live in the gray spaces, and she’s right. I’m a black or white kind of guy. Gray is for pansies who don’t have the balls to stand up for what they want.
But after five weeks without my Frankie Angel, I can see the appeal gray holds. It allows for compromise. It allows you to keep what you cherish while giving up something that holds less meaning. The thing is, she deserves my all—my black or white—not my gray that can’t commit to the future she desires. She deserves a man who’s all in.
After what Austin said weeks ago,maybe it was always you,I keep seeing Frankie by my side, our children at our feet laughing and playing as I hold my Angel, my hand resting on her extended abdomen, full of another baby I put there. My vision of her and me together for the long run, all in, husband and wife—with children—doesn’t send me running like it did when Austin planted that seed. It warms my gut, makes my chest ache in the place only she has ever occupied, and stings my eyes like I might actually fucking cry.
Damn, I need to get drunk.
I break my rule. Finishing off my beer, I order another. “I’ll be back,” I tell the guys, stepping outside and punching a contact on my phone.
“Hey, asshole.” Rowdy can never just sayhi. It might piss me off if it wasn’t so like me.
“How is she?” I pace the parking lot, keeping my eye out for anyone who might be listening, but the only people out here are arriving, leaving, or getting it on in the back of their cars. They couldn’t care less about a schmuck like me. I lean against the far brick wall, welcoming the cold stone against my back, reminding me to keep my emotions in check. I’m only calling to ensure she’s okay, she’s safe.
“She’s fine.” I hear noises in the background and then silence, assuming he stepped away from the crowd he was with. A long pause and a deep exhale have him admitting, “Still crying over you.”
Shit.Not the news I want to hear. “Still? Can’t you distract her? Make her forget?” I thought she’d have given up on me by now. She’s the one who pushed me away. Made me put up or shut up. We could’ve still been together if she hadn’t been so hardheaded about committing to a future I didn’t know if I could handle.
“Sounds like you’re either asking me to keep her in a state of inebriation or fuck her until she can’t rememberhername, much lessyours.” I don’t miss the edge in his voice. It only serves to piss me off nearly as much as his words.
“You better not lay a hand on her, or so help me God—”
“What are you gonna do, Gabriel? Fight for her?” He chuckles. “That’s rich coming from you. All she wants is for you to fight for her. Show her she’s…” He stops.
“What? Show her… What?” I need him to finish his thought. I need every morsel he can give me about my Angel.
“Show her she’s worth it. Prove you’re capable of doing something her own father wouldn’t do, and what Austin couldn’t do.”
“She’s worth everything.” Even breaking myself to stay away from her.
“Really? You’ve got a weird way of showing it.”
“I can’t—”
“Listen, Gabriel, I’m done playing your informant. You want to know how she’s doing, you need to call her. Or better yet, don’t, and let her move on.” He hangs up before I can get my brain around what he said.
Stuck in my head, I reenter the bar, grab my beer off the table and finish it off in one long pull.
Soft hands run up my sides to my pecs and still as hard tits press into me. “Buy me one of those, handsome?”
