Page 110 of Always You

I avoid talking about campus life, because I’m convinced he doesn’t want to hear about the friends I’m making, or the guys I date just to expand my horizon further than the man who stole my heart and flew to LA. Just like I know he holds back on sharing about his life outside of his training schedule.

“What’s wrong?”

“How’s your mom doing?” Deflecting. Okay, something must really be bothering him. I could steamroll him and tell him to hang up unless he wants to be honest, but I’m in a good mood,so I’ll give him a few moments to work up the nerve for whatever reason he’s calling.

“Really good. She told me she’s taking Pilates classes, and she made some friends.” It’s a relief that Mama is doing so well. She sounds more like herself every month, and it’s allowed me to enjoy college more than I expected. After I went home for Christmas and saw with my own eyes that she was shining like never before, I even gave myself permission to go to a New Year’s Eve party with Julie.

“That’s really good, Charls. I’m sorry I wasn’t home for Christmas.”

“Pff, don’t be silly.” I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed when the AFA decided he had to fight in Russia on Christmas Eve, but it is what it is. It’s not like he has a reason to come to Braeden, after all. His mother probably drank her way through Christmas. “How is your mother?”

“Still drunk,” he replies with a cynical yet exhausted tone. His frustration is palpable, even though there’s a thousand miles between us, and it’s coming at me in waves, pulling the air from my lungs. He sounds like he’s been running around the city all night and still can't get rid of whatever nagging feeling has settled inside of him.

“Hunt,” I start with a hint of reprimand, “did you sleep last night?”

“Hardly.” There’s no joy to be found in his chuckle, the starting shot of something brewing inside of me that doesn’t feel good.

“What’s going on?”

The gust of his exhaling breath is loud, followed by a deep groan. “I just hate this LA bullshit.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“What are you talking about?”

The silence that follows is pregnant with something dark and heavy, reminding me of one of those scenes in horror movies when the demon is about to pop up.

“They want me to start dating Laurie Simpson.”

Oh, hey,devil baby.

“What? Who?”

“Gina. My publicist.The AFA.” He pushes out each word with more dread, but it doesn’t even come close to the meteorite-sized brick that just landed in my stomach while my feet come to a halt in shock.

“And what?” I snap. “You missed the fine print of your contract that states that they can dictate who you date?”

“Sorta.”

“Sorta?!” My own high-pitched tone has me glancing around me in embarrassment, a few students giving me a deep frown. I put my feet back in motion, then lower my voice. “Hunter, that's ridiculous! Why do they care who you date?”

“They want to expand the brand. Get rid of the reputation that only criminals and thugs are fighters.”

“And getting their youngest and best fighter linked with America’s supermodel slash sweetheart is the way to do it?” His deafening lack of words is reply enough. “Hunter, you can’t be serious?! Do you evenwantto date her?”

You could hear the crickets sing over the line if there were any, and my heart thunders when nothing fucking happens. Not a groan, not a growl, and sure as fuck no syllable to pronounce the word‘no’that I’m waiting for.

“Oh my god. You do?”

“No!” he quickly replies, then it’s followed with the groan that’s at least ten seconds too late. “I don’t know, Charls. They said it could get me more sponsor deals. That usually pays more than my fights. Her dad is one of the biggest realtors in the state,and he’s taken an interest in the AFA. It’s why they wanna link her to a fighter.”

“Right. Money.” I fail to hide my disappointment.

“Charls, please. It’s not real. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It’s what my heart wants to hear, but my mind is scolding me like a librarian eyeing me from above her glasses. It’s not fair. We arefriends. I have no right to tell him who he can and can’t date.

I roll my shoulders, then lift my chin as I do my best to keep a steady voice.

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