Page 36 of Stone's Promise

“Well, this is cute.”

I stiffened before slowly turning. Trey stood with his usual air of narcissistic confidence, hands in his pockets, appearing all too pleased with himself.

“Didn’t know fighters did charity work,” he said, eyes flicking to Cody. “Figured you’d be busy doing actual training.”

Cody didn’t take the bait. He simply stood there, relaxed. However, I knew him well enough now to recognize the subtle tension in his stance. He wasn’t here to fight Trey.

Neither was I.

But I wasn’t about to let Trey waltz in and act like he had some kind of authority over my life. I took a slow step forward, keeping my voice calm but firm. “What do you want?”

He scoffed as if I were the unreasonable one. “Just checking in. Seeing how my son’s doing.”

I folded my arms. “You mean the son you dropped off with his suitcase like a package delivery?”

A few people nearby had gone quiet, subtly tuning in. Trey noticed too, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Don’t be dramatic, Emily. I had work to do.”

“Right.” My voice was thick with sarcasm. “Because placing bets on a horse race is such grueling work.”

His jaw tensed. “You don’t know anything about what I do.”

I got out of earshot of the people. I lowered my voice so only he could hear. “And you don’t know anything about what it means to be a father,” I shot back. “Oliver deserves better than a part-time dad. I’m done, Trey. Done letting you make me feel small and acting like you have a say in my life.”

Trey’s expression flashed from anger to frustration. He hated being called out, and this was the first time I really spoke my mind to him.

“I don’t know what kind of fantasy you’re living in,” he sneered. “But this?” He gestured between Cody and me. “I did my research. He’s just a grunt vet with PTSD who now has an excuse to throw his fists around. Playing family with this guy ain’t it.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, Trey turned his attention to Cody, a cruel smile curling his lips. “Must be nice, huh, Stone? Getting handed the easy role? Babysitting instead of actually competing.”

Cody’s fists clenched at his sides, obvious to anyone standing nearby that he had the urge to wipe the jerk grin off Trey's face. Instead, he held back and matched his stare. “Careful.”

Trey just huffed a laugh. “What? You’re the big, tough fighter, right? Maybe you want to show off a little.”

And then, in the most absurd, ego-fueled decision I’d ever seen, my ex raised his fists in some ridiculous mock boxing stance.

A few people snickered. I had enough.

“Oh, for God’s sake—” I started, but before I could finish, Trey threw an exaggerated jab toward Cody, like he was making some kind of point.

Cody didn’t even acknowledge it. He just stepped aside smoothly, letting the punch whiff past him.

But Trey’s timing was spectacularly bad.

One of the guys from the crowd, someone who had clearly been watching Cody’s demo a little too enthusiastically, chose that exact moment to try mimicking a move. He threw his own punch, stepping into the movement the way Cody had demonstrated earlier.

Unfortunately for Trey, he walked right into it.

The impact wasn’t devastating, but it was direct. A solid, clean shot to the nose.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Trey staggered back, eyes wide, hands flying up to his face. A second later, blood started dripping between his fingers.

“Oh, shit,” someone muttered.

Silence hung in the air for a beat. Then Cody shrugged. “Told you, man. You gotta bob and weave.”

Laughter exploded around us.

Trey’s face went bright red, his mortification complete. He looked around, as if searching for some way to salvage hisdignity, but it was useless. He had just been publicly humiliated in front of half the town.

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