Page 19 of Until You're Mine
He waved a hand through the air. “Never mind. We can talk about it later—maybe tomorrow morning?”
“You’ve already opened the can of worms. No use trying to shove them back in.” I was relatively sure who he’d meant by the way he’d brought it up, and my mind wouldn’t stop spinning until I knew if I was right, and if I’d have to see him, and basically wondering all night would be torture, so might as well rip the damn Band-Aid off and get it over with. “Just say it.”
I braced myself.
“Conrad Rochenski. Rumor is, the guy he’s supposed to fight in two months is going to have to drop out because of an injury that requires surgery. It’s one of the bouts before the big middleweight title fight, and a lot of guys are going to be making a play for the spot once it’s official. Landing a fight with Croc would really help Knox shoot up that ladder. It’d help the gym and the team, too. We haven’t had a big fight in a while.”
And it still stung. In spite of my fortification attempt and the fact that I’d had that roundabout thought about how after Conrad and I’d had our ugly breakup, Dad’s I-told-you-so method of consoling me did the exact opposite. “I’m sure you’ve already asked him.”
If Conrad or his manager had said yes, Dad and I wouldn’t be having this conversation, and I instinctively knew the next words out of his mouth would hurt.
“It’s just… Well, while your breakup is largely to blame for his leaving our team, he still has a soft spot for you, and the boys and I thought if you talked to him about taking the fight, he’d be more likely to agree to it.”
My throat tightened. “Is that why you really needed me here this summer? You couldn’t arrange a fight that you needed to happen, one that’d be a big moneymaker and give you great publicity, and you figured parading your daughter out in front of the guy who broke her heart would soften his?”
“Brooklyn, that’s not why. It was just a bonus.” He reached for my hand, and I jerked it back. I’d known better, and I was almost as angry at myself for thinking things might truly be different this time as I was at him for being the exact same.
“I was hoping that I could just be your daughter, no bonus required.” I pushed away from the table and tossed my napkin on my plate. “So much for having changed.”
…
I’d known I would need ice cream after the dinner with Dad, but at the same time, I had no idea how badly. Which was why I was eating rocky road straight from the carton, and I hadn’t bothered with wussy beer. No, it was a tequila night. For the record, chocolate ice cream and tequila wasn’t a good combo, but after a couple of shots, I noticed less.
I was still fuming when Finn walked inside, all lackadaisical-like, which only spiked my outrage.
“Sweet, you got the goods.” My face must’ve been scary, because he held up his hands like he’d stumbled upon a burglar with a gun. “Sooo, how was dinner?”
“You couldn’t have warned me?”
Finn grimaced. “That would require knowing what I was supposed to warn you about, but honestly, I’m too scared to ask.”
“Conrad.”
Genuine confusion flickered across his features, which calmed my anger some. I didn’t want to think he’d been involved in pulling the right strings to get me to turn around and pull on Conrad’s strings.
“Dad said, and I quote”—a glop of ice cream began to drip from my spoon and I caught it with my tongue before powering through with my impression—“‘he still has a soft spot for you, and the boys and I thought if you talked to him about taking the fight, he’d be more likely to agree to it.’”
I stabbed my spoon into the ice cream, lodging it nice and deep so I could use my right hand to flourish my retelling—my left was busy gripping the neck of the tequila bottle. “I’mConrad’s soft spot? Really? Yeah, that worked out fucking great for me. Why don’t I go over and see if he wants to rip my chest open and take another piece of my heart? If it helps the gym, who cares about what I’m left with?”
Okay, that end part was perhaps a tad overly dramatic. Yes, Conrad had hurt me. Badly. He was my first love, and after putting my life on hold for a year, he cheated on me and it’d sucked. It also left me feeling like I didn’t know who I was anymore. Then everything blew up at the gym, and while it hurt for Dad to heap most of the blame on me, I couldn’t deny that our relationship did make a mess of things, especially between Conrad and my brothers. I didn’t want to be around him—he had a hard time letting go, to the point it’d scared me—and even his move to another team left us traveling in the same circles too often. Another reason I’d moved far away. I was over the breakup and over him, but being over our tumultuous past enough to go make nice…? I wouldn’t go that far.
Finn flopped onto the couch next to me. “I didn’t know Dad was going to ask you to do that over dinner tonight, I swear. Yeah, we discussed it when we found out that Croc’s opponent was pulling out due to an injury, but…” He clenched his jaw. “Liam was the one who spoke up against it first. He told Dad that was crossing a line, and that he wouldn’t use you as a pawn to draw out fights. As soon as I could calm down enough to basically say ‘ditto,’ I made it clear I felt the same way.”
The knot in my chest loosened. Both of my brothers had my back, and I wished Liam was here now so I could hug him, despite his being a regular grouchy pants as of late. For now, I settled on getting my arms around the brother who was here.
“Liam and I will take care of it,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“So, should I get my own spoon and shot glass, or are you going to share?”
I poured a shot, slid it over to him, and kept the bottle for myself. “What do we toast to?”
“To…forgetting. Shitty exes, shitty days, and…”
When he seemed to be struggling for another thing to add, I said, “Shitty, cheap tequila.”
Finn laughed, added a “here, here,” and then we clinked glass and put a serious dent in both the alcohol and the ice cream.
