Page 41 of Until You're Mine
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooklyn
As soon as we came out of Dad’s office, I took a large step toward Liam and threw my arms around him. It’d been a while since we’d hugged—he was more of a back-clap type—but we found our mushy groove after a second or two. “Thank you for what you said in there. And I’m sorry for what I said about Chelsea. Even if it’s true.”
Liam looked down at me, one corner of his mouth kicking up. “Typically during an apology, you don’t point out how right you are.”
“As someone who’s experienced one of her”—Shane made air quotes—“‘apologies,’ I can attest that that’s the way hers go.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just couldn’t help overhearing.”
In spite of my crappy realization that I needed to erect an extra wall between Shane and me in order to survive the hectic month ahead of us, I reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Congrats on landing the fight.”
He opened his mouth, but Finn’s voice broke through first. “Are we going to stand around holding hands while we sing ‘Kumbaya’? Or are we going to get this lucky bastard”—he slapped Shane on the back—“ready for his fight?”
“My vote’s ‘Kumbaya,’” I said, “and I’m recording that shit and putting it on YouTube. Three big badass fighters singing songs of praise? It’ll be viral by the end of the day.”
“Yeah, along with questions about our sexuality,” Liam said, half grumble, half amusement.
“Brooklyn?” My happy vibes wilted as I glanced over my shoulder at Dad, who stood in the doorway of his office. “I wanted another minute with you. Please.”
I shoved my three guys toward the cage. “Go get to work, lazy butts. I’ll come over to demand you drop and give me twenty in a few.”
I turned back to Dad. “What’s up?”
“I’d make a comment about how naturally you fit in, but I know it’d only make you mad.”
“Good thing you held back, then.”
He glanced around and then stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know I’m not always an easy person to deal with.”
I figured shoutingCosign!wouldn’t make this conversation go any smoother.
“I am trying,” he said. “Liam’s right, though. You should take some time for yourself. To do your painting. And I can’t thank you enough for helping Knox land that fight. It’s going to be good for him, and good for Team Domination.”
“Well, I did it for him. He deserves it.”
“He does.”
The silence stretched, the way it often did between us. Finn was somehow in my head, even from across the gym, telling me to try. “I can appreciate how much you care about your fighters, and all you’ve built here. I’m also glad that you brought me to the gym with you when I was younger, and that I was taught self-defense moves and how to throw my weight behind my punches and kicks at an early age.”
My gaze drifted over the bags I’d learned to hit and then back to the guy who’d first taught me how. “When I say I don’t want a permanent position here, I’m not saying that I don’t love this gym”—I got unexpectedly choked up, my words clogging my throat for a second before I could get them out—“or love the buzz of a good fight. I’m just saying that I also need something that’s mine. I need to love what I do, the way you love what you do.”
Dad nodded. “I get that.”
My skepticism must’ve shown, because he added, “Well, I’m trying to.” He glanced at Finn and Shane, already running through drills while Liam barked commands at them. “Liamisoff since Chelsea moved away, isn’t he?”
Since we were giving the nice thing a go, I kept my response on the softer side instead of leaning toward my more comfortable sarcastic one. “It’s definitely a factor. He seems more stressed in general, too.”
Dad let out a long exhale. “We’ve had a hard year. A hard two years, to be honest.”
“I see the books, so I kind of figured. Maybe take, like, ten extra seconds to consider my idea about opening it up to the general public and offering classes.”
“I—”
“That’s not even close to ten, Dad. Think about how much can happen when you hear that slap of wood that means ten seconds is left in a round.”
He absentmindedly cracked his knuckles, doing one hand and then the other. “That’s usually when I decide I could survive anything, even not having oxygen.”
I sighed. I pulled out all the fighter analogies and everything, and Istillcouldn’t get through to him.
