Page 7 of Until You're Mine
I extended the makeshift slim jim to her. “You wanna have at it?”
She sighed, her whole body getting in on it. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it. I’m simply asking if we can keep this just between us.”
“I’m happy to keep whatever you want between us,” I said, even though I should really cut back on the lines and innuendos. But the way she got all huffy about it made it way too fun, and so little entertained me these days. Not that I had time to sit around and enjoy life right now. There’d be time for that later, after my fighter ranking was in a more comfortable range.
Between that sobering thought and the fact that the stress coming off Brooklyn had calmed down considerably, it was time to pull back and hold myself in check. Get into her car, get out of this situation where I might focus too much on how entertaining she was, and get on with my life.
I fed the wire down into the door, searching for the latch. I’d worked hard to turn my life around, so I was rusty. Finally I felt it catch. I pulled straight up and heard aclick—the lock popped up along with it.
“Why am I not surprised you know how to do that?” Brooklyn asked.
Of all the jabs she’d thrown, that one landed harder than I would’ve liked. “Because you, like most people, take one look at someone and judge them.”
Her face dropped.
I’d already taken time away from my training to help her, so I refused to feel bad. Obviously she’d grown up a lot differently than I had, and she thought she was better than me. Nothing would change that, and I shouldn’t even be talking to her in the first place.
If anything, it was a good reminder of where my priorities needed to be. Keeping my head down and giving training my all. I’d lived too many years trying to impress people who’d only ever look down on me. This time around, I was only surrounding myself with people who’d be with me through the upsandthe downs.
I didn’t have the luxury of wasting time on some girl who took one look at me and declared me a waste of space.
Chapter Five
Brooklyn
My stomach had been in knots all day, and every time I caught a glimpse of Shane Knox—yeah, I’d done some digging and found out his name—my insides twisted tighter.
Several excuses ran through my head, ones I wanted to present him with so my guilt might ease up a bit. There was the one about how I was having a bad day. Another about how it’d just come out wrong, and I hadn’t meant it. Since that wasn’t true, I decided to toss it. The truth was, Shane was clearly a well-trained fighter, but with an edge only people who’d been street-fighters before stepping inside a gym, ring, or cage had. I’d noticed it yesterday in the way he fought, and in addition to making me sort of wary of him, yeah, it’d made me more judgmental than I should’ve been.
Which led me to my next excuse:I’ve known a lot of fighters in my day, and in my experience, the cocky young ones are the most dangerous of the species.Smooth lines that mess with your head and manipulate your emotions, devil-may-care attitude, and intensely driven. That fire often transferred to other areas, and if you were the one standing near the flames, watch out. I’d been burned by one in particular, and I felt so stupid, because I’d seen my mom go through the same thing with my dad. I’d judged her, too, telling myself I’d never stand for being treated the way she was, and it came back to bite me in the ass.
At least I didn’t take years to leave. Not that it really made a difference to my heart.
The good news was, Mom had learned from her past, the way I’d learned from mine. After the divorce, she moved to Arizona to be near her sister, where she eventually met a shy software engineer—a guy pretty much the opposite of Dad in every single way—who made her happy. They’d gotten married a couple of years ago, and we kept in touch through texts and calls.
Using the ancient keyboard that had definitely had some kind of sticky substance spilled on it, I entered the last few numbers for the expenses spreadsheet. The one for three months ago that should’ve been done then. I rolled my neck and then rubbed at my tired eyes. My gaze skimmed over the remaining piles of envelopes I still had to sort, and I knew it would get messier before it got better.
Seriously, how could they not notice the piles? Or check on the books at least once in the past five months?When I’d asked that question, the three men in my life gave shrugs while mumbling about being super busy.
I’d turned to Dad. “You used to go above and beyond checking the books. I remember you yelling at me about the figures and having to then explain I hadn’t had a chance to balance everything yet. What happened?”
“Someone told me I needed to let some of it go.”
“That was when I was here.”
He threw up his hands. “Yeah, and then you left and look what happened.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that. I wanted to explode in anger, but Finn had put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him. “After his surgery to remove the tumor, we all got behind, and things fell through the cracks. He’s glad that you’re here now to help, though, aren’t you, Dad?”
“Of course I am,” Dad said. He was super good at expressing his emotions when someone else fed them to him.
“So I know the books and bills are a mess and that we’ve put you in a tight spot, and we’re all sorry about that. But you can fix it and get us back on track, right?” Finn asked it with such hope and belief in me, and Dad was staring while Liam remained on the far side of the couch doing his stoic thing.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “It’s going to take me several weeks to sort through the mess and see what exactly needs fixing…”
Eyebrows arched higher and everyone leaned closer—or maybe it just felt like that when I’d been on the spot. “I’ll do my best to make sure everything’s balanced and up and running before I head back to San Francisco.”
There hadn’t been cheers, but I’d gotten a huge grin from Finn, a relieved expression from Liam, and another cough-inducing pat on the back from Dad.
