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“Don’t read into it. I’m leaving. You’re leaving. Don’t you keep reminding me that we’re neighbors when you push those endless free drinks at me?”
Romeo Knight has a sense of humor. Who knew?
“The one free drink you passed on?”
“Maybe I’ll cash in on it someday.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his eyes in front of him.
“You also managed to run Blane Johnson off, too. Were you just being neighborly?”
“Blane is an asshole. He was hanging all over you, and I could tell you didn’t like it. If that makes me neighborly, so fucking be it.”
He paused when we turned down the alley, and I stopped to fish my keys out of my purse. “I’ve seen you running every morning. Looks like you’re training hard already.”
He nodded, and his eyes settled on my mouth before they snapped back up to meet my gaze. “Get inside. It’s cold.”
Like I said. The guy was giving me a bad case of whiplash.
I rolled my eyes and put the key into the door and stepped inside without another word.
nine
. . .
Romeo
“You look worn out,”River said, as he tossed me a sub sandwich before passing Kingston and Hayes theirs.
“Thanks,Dad.” I made no attempt to hide my sarcasm. Obviously, I was tired. I was two weeks into a grueling training routine, and I had a long way to go.
Kingston fell back against the couch in laughter. “Nothing like training season to put Romeo in a foul-ass mood.”
“He’s puking more than he’s keeping down; that’s why he feels like shit.” Hayes shrugged as if he were a fucking doctor. “You’re pushing too hard, brother.”
“No shit. That’s what happens when you train for a fight.”
“Maybe you’re going a little too hard right out of the gate. You’re not going to make it if you’re depleted nutritionally.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s the biggest fight of my life. There’s no backing down. My body will adjust to the training,” I said, leaning back against the couch and chewing slowly.
I didn’t miss the look that passed between them, but I didn’t have the energy to dissect it. I had a second workout with Joey in an hour and a half, so I’d need to rally.
The door swung open, and in walked Nash, with Cutler a few steps ahead of him.
“Hey, Cutler. Give me some.” River held his hand up, and Cutler jumped up and slapped it hard.
Little Dude was a badass, and he wasn’t even six years old yet.
“My name’s not Cutler anymore.” He paused, looking between each of us, and his gaze stopped on me. “Why does Uncle Ro look like that?”
Jesus. Even Cutler is on my ass now?
“Uncle Romeo is stubborn, and he’s running himself into the ground, but he doesn’t want to listen to anyone. Apparently, he prefers to suffer,” Kingston said over a mouthful of food. “Tell us what you decided your name should be.”
Nash groaned and shook his head, and I leaned forward because, for the first time today, I was looking forward to something other than puking in the back alley after my run.
The little dude had been claiming for months that he didn’t think his name should be Cutler. He’d run all sorts of names by us, and then he’d follow it up by saying that none of them were quite right.
But he looked really happy with himself, and I was here for it. The fact that Nash looked tortured by the choice made it even better.
