Page 33 of Fight for Forever

I chuckle and hold up a hand. “I didn’t think that. I asked.”

Her nose scrunches in that adorable way she has when she’s trying to think things through.

“Yes, I’d like to go. This Friday?”

“Yeah, can you get time off work?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, great. I’ll text you all the details. Sorry about cutting this short. Do you want to use the shower?”

Fuck, I’ve never offered her that before.

“I’m good. I’ll go straight home.”

I nod. And we look at each other. She gets up first. I’d completely forgotten about the charity event until I thought about not seeing Meg once I go into training for this fight.

I can’t train with her, all of my time will be taken up, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have some spare time when we can do stuff. Even though women are off the table too.

This thing with Meg is different. It’s not about getting physical. I want to get to know her. I want her to open up more. I’ll still be able to talk to her, maybe even see her, like a friend. I want to fuck. Shit, it’s more than that. I just don’t know how to articulate that in my head.

After she leaves, I take a quick shower and grab my shit to head to Sam’s.

I checked out some of the bullshit Marris and his team have been posting. Sam only told his trainer yesterday that I’d accept the fight. They’ve gone on the offensive in a big way. I’ve never talked shit about an opponent before and I won’t rise to this either. No matter how much I want to.

In the long run, it makes me the bigger person. But people will expect me to respond, the press will try to drum it up, make it worse than it already is.

Fucking Marris. Maybe it’s a good thing they want to bring the fight up. The sooner I beat his ass and get this over with, the better.

I tug on the collar of my shirt again and Dixon laughs from his chair. He came over with a tux for me to borrow. He’s the only person big enough to have something that will fit me. I could have rented one, but I got so caught up in all the shit at the gym, and Marris throwing more shit at me and my reputation, that I forgot.

Not about the fact I’m taking Megan out again. That has been on a constant loop around my brain.

“What’s got you so fidgety?” he asks, popping the tab on a beer can from my fridge. It’s been there a while, but I have them in for when he comes over.

“I hate these penguin suits.”

“A minor inconvenience. What else?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You forget I know you. Is this about Marris and all his shit talk?”

I straighten the bow tie again, then sit down opposite the man who became my legal guardian when I was a kid. Dixon rescued me from having to spend a year in foster care. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that. Which is why I trust him enough to be honest. To a degree.

“This woman I’m going out with tonight.”

His brow arches before I even go on. Dixon was divorced when I moved in. He’s had girlfriends over the years, but no one serious. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t trust women enough to get close to one. Not after his ex-wife cheated on him, stole a lot of his money, and vanished with a guy he called his buddy.

He’s a good guy, he didn’t deserve that. He’s not the right person to go to for advice about women but I can trust him not to give me shit about it. Not like the guys at the gym would, or any of my other friends. The ones that are married too would find it fucking hilarious I’m asking questions about a chick.

“Angelina mentioned her.”

“Of course she did,” I sigh, leaning back and spreading my legs. The pants are a little on the tight side, but I’m not worried they’re gonna split or anything. “What did she say?”

“She’s cute. Seems friendly. And you looked at her like you wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe.”

I pull a face. It’s kind of true. Angelina is perceptive.

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