“She says she needs to stay back and work,” Brute said, as if this was the most ridiculous thing in the world. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse. For anyone except my family.
“Sadie.” My mom shook her head, tutting maniacally. “This is the biggest fight of Brute’s career. What’s next, missing the match?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I said.
“You’re being a little dramatic with wanting to miss the press conference,” my mom huffed, plopping into a chair.
I rested my temple against my fingers, looking between the two of them. Okay. So this had not gone over as quietly as I’d hoped.
“I’m not even needed there,” I said, my brain spinning to find a logical rationalization they’d accept. “I’ve done all the legwork of setting this up, of coaching his responses, of setting up the sponsor placements…”
“And you should be there, too.” My mother’s fiery green gaze sliced through me, and I deflated. She was right—I knew it. I was only avoiding it for one silly reason.
“Fine.” I straightened my back, turning to my computer.
Both Brute and our mom looked pleased. We were an odd bunch. I didn’t know how most other fighters did it, but Brute had essentially enrolled his immediate family to act his manager. I handled sponsorships, public relations, media, and the like. My mom arranged hotel bookings and flights whenever we went somewhere. And my dad was the hobnobber—the guy who could get some interesting leads for a variety of promotional events, like high school appearances and charity gigs. It worked for them, since they’d both retired early.
Brute was set with all of us. And it was nice to work as a family. It really brought us together in a new way. I just never imagined it would bring me and my secret lover together in a way that could ruin everything.
I didn’t meetup with Hawk that night. I couldn’t. I was too nervous about the press conference and too guilty about hiding from him. I’d been lying by omission for ten days, and now it was about to get real. I didn’t have a plan. Nothing beyond just wrapping myself in linens and hoping for the best.
It was like Hawk could taste my apprehension from across town, though. He sent me a text after dinner that confirmed my utter shittiness.
“So…I’m asking again. You wanna come to the fight on Saturday?”
It made me wince as if I’d been slapped. He’d already asked once since we met, which I was able to sidestep by promising to ask my imaginary coworkers about shift coverage. But that was just another fib in the countless moments when I’d hedged with him. This was getting out of control.
“I’ll know tomorrow. I promise.”I sent a kissy face as though this was somehow a consolation. I would know tomorrow. Once I found out whether or not he’d still speak to me after realizing I’d been plotting against him for the duration of my brother’s career.
“Good enough. I’ll be thinking about you. Tuning in tomorrow for the conference?”
That was the other bullet to the gut—he’d been raving about this press conference, eager for me to watch. No doubt so he could fan his feathers a little.
“You bet.”My stomach churned. I tried to make it an early night, but my roiling thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. It was important that Hawk didn’t hate me after all this. It meant way more to me than I cared to admit.