Page 40 of Until You're Mine
“Morning,” Shane said as he stepped into the room. His gaze snagged on mine for a moment before he leaned back against the wall, one ankle casually crossed over the other, his arms folded in a way that brought out every muscle in his arms, from his bulging biceps to his defined forearms.
Finn nudged me, and I noticed Dad was suddenly paying super close attention to me. I wasn’t sure if it was for ogling Shane, or for…whatever bug had bit him. At this point, it was anyone’s guess.
Dad ran his fingers over the stubble on his chin. “I heard there was an incident Friday night at the Fainting Goat.”
My stomach bottomed out. “No one threw a punch. If anything, I started it, but Conrad was the one who showed up after he heard I was there.”
“I thought you didn’t care if Knox got the chance to fight him,” Dad said, blunt and tactless as usual.
“I never said…” My temper flared to life, and Finn put his hand on my knee like he planned to hold me back if I lunged at Dad. But damn, did he have to make me sound so cold and heartless? He didn’t even understand what he’d asked me to do in the first place, or why it was so hard for me—that or he simply didn’t care, and while I knew our relationship was rocky, I didn’t want to believe it was quite that destitute.
I looked at Shane, afraid I’d see hurt, but he’d thrown up his emotionless mask. “Out of context, I know that sounds bad,” I said. “I want you to get the chance, if not with him, with another fighter at his level. That’s why I taunted him at the bar.”
Dad’s stern expression cracked, and then he grinned, ear to fucking ear. “It worked. Conrad insisted you fill the open slot, Knox. You’re back in the game. I could hardly wait to share the news.”
I placed a hand over my rapidly-beating heart. “But what? You thought you should give us all panic attacks first?”
“I thought this would be more fun. Make you all worry for a second or two and then surprise you with the good news.”
The man really had no idea how to have fun. Making me sound shitty and then saying the equivalent ofbut eventually you came through, so yay, you’re useful again.
Everyone looked at one another as if they were afraid to believe it. As I thought about the reality of Shane in the cage with Conrad, my emotions whipped around in a confusing tornado. Worry, relief, fear, excitement. Since excitement was what Shane needed, I grabbed hold of that one and held on tight. “That ego of Conrad’s is going to get him in trouble, but I’m glad it worked.”
“It’s all set?” Shane asked, and I could hear the barely-contained enthusiasm in his voice. “For real?”
Dad nodded.
“And if I’m not mistaken, we’re talking the same night and venue that one of my all-time favorite fighters, Tyrone “Cyclone” Jones, is going to attempt to regain the middleweight belt.” Shane looked almost scared to say it aloud, like that would make it no longer true. “That’sthe night I’m set to fight Conrad Rochenski?”
“The same night, same venue, in front of the same huge crowd,” Dad said. “That means we’ve only got a little more than six weeks to get ready, so I wanted your team all here. We’ve got to make a plan and get to work.”
I dragged my thumb over the beads of condensation that’d formed on my cup. “What am I going to do? Threaten to go over paperwork with anyone who doesn’t hit their marks?”
“You just proved what an asse—” Dad seemed to remember that we’d had a fight about him treating me like an asset instead of his daughter. “We need you on our team, Brooklyn. The gym runs better now than it has in a long time, and that’s thanks to you. We’re better with you here. Right, boys?”
At least they were as afraid of me as they were of Dad, because no one enthusiastically chimed in. Not for several beats anyway.
“Of course we’re better with her here, butshe’snot better,” Liam said, shocking the hell out of me. “She’s exhausted and trying to catch up on all the shit that fell between the cracks, and that’s an unfair amount of pressure to put on her. Especially when you add ‘promoter’ into the mix.”
Dad cleared his throat, as if to say,hey, we have company. Let’s not air our dirty laundry.
Liam ignored it and looked at me. “When’s the last time you picked up a paintbrush?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. Not in the three weeks I’ve been here, though—I haven’t had the time.”
“That’s not okay. Take some time off to do that, and sooner rather than later—that’s an order. I’ll do however much laundry I need to, and I’ll even file fucking invoices if that’s what it takes.”
Now I felt bad about that intervention joke. I missed my hobby, and he missed his, even if his was a person instead of an activity.
“We’re getting off topic,” Dad huffed. “We need to get a plan in place to get Knox ready for the fight.”
They talked strategy, and when my dad and brothers were wrapped up in talk of drills and schedules, Shane caught my eye, placed his hand at on his chest, and mouthed “Thank you.”
Come on, heart. Stop fluttering like that. Don’t you remember the last time you fell for a fighter?I’d tried to talk myself out of my attraction for weeks, but it was no use. A part of me wanted him and had from the first day I’d walked into this gym. A big part that didn’t want to remain quiet anymore. At the bar, he’d asked if I would really want to help him land a girl for the night, and while I’d experienced a pinch of jealousy when I saw him talking to the brunette, that thought sent waves of it through me.
It wasn’t fair for me to ask him not to date or to hook up with other girls, and it wasn’t fair to keep dating Trey when my attraction to Shane refused to stay buried. No matter how much I justified my actions at the bar, guilt still weighed me down. I’d been relieved when Trey told me he’d be up in the mountains at his family’s cabin all weekend, with very limited service. It gave me more time to sort out my emotions. Not that I’d been successful, but there’d been a moment when I’d begrudgingly admitted to myself that my attraction ran deeper than simply looks and a healthy dose of lust. I liked Shane, and in way more than a friends-ish way.
But this fight changed everything. It meant the small bubble of free time we’d had was about to pop, and I was afraid if I didn’t slowly drift away, I’d find myself on my ass when it did.
