Page 33 of Until We're More
Balancing the toothbrush in one hand, I wrapped my other around his neck to secure his head in place and gradually extended the toothbrush toward him. “Smells good, huh?”
George neither confirmed nor denied.
Here goes nothing.Using my thumb, I lifted his lips and began brushing the teeth I could see, and George flattened himself to the cushion and growled. I moved to the other side, brushing as quickly as possible while he did his damnedest to wiggle free.
“We’re almost done. I think.”
I tried to make sure I got all the teeth, but who the hell knew, and he certainly wasn’t helping.
The second I let go, George darted away to his favorite place under my entertainment center. I tossed the toothbrush onto the coffee table and wiped my hands. “So much for being friends.”
Someone knocked on the door, and I frowned at it, staring like I would suddenly develop X-ray vision. Since I didn’t, I walked over and answered it.
My siblings and Knox stood on the other side, and I scrunched up my eyebrows. “Did we have an appointment I forgot about?”
“Come on.” Brooklyn slugged my shoulder. “At leasttryto look happy to see me.” When I remained unmoved—not that I wasn’t happy to see her per se, but I had a feeling there was an agenda attached to the visit—she said, “Hello? Adam’s party? The one he’s been talking about for weeks?”
I opened my mouth, and Brooklyn quickly said, “Don’t claim you’re busy. Chelsea can come, too. It’ll be a good chance for her to catch up with everyone she hasn’t seen at the gym yet.” My sister pushed past me and glanced around. “Where is Chelsea, anyway?”
“Out.”
“That explains the sour mood,” Brooklyn muttered, but not low enough for me to not hear her, although I doubt she was trying to hide it. Last summer when she’d come home for what was only supposed to be a few months, she’d constantly pointed out that I was grouchy without Chelsea and even made a joke about having an intervention to get me to call her. Up until then I thought I’d been doing a decent job of hiding my misery.
During my sister’s broken-hearted period, a time I thought would be good for her but turned out to be the opposite, she’d pleaded for me to call Chelsea. Just like that, my attempt to give her enough space to readjust to her new life seemed like unnecessary torture, and it’d pushed me to call and talk to her. Or more accurately, call so she could talk to me.
Not that it’d made it easier. It was almost easier when I couldn’t hear her voice. When I didn’t constantly get those bizarre filter-skewed photos from her, which I’d pulled up whenever I started missing her. It was also a hell of a lot easier before I saw her in that dress tonight. Or in her all-business outfits, or her yoga pants, or those tiny pajamas she wore—in person was a whole different story than via video chats. For years we’d both told everyone we were just friends, so why did that just-friends feeling have to disappear the instant she strolled into the gym last week?
Then again, that wasn’t exactly true, either. As I’d recently remembered, there was also that period before my fight with Carlos.Not helping. I need more reminders about why I have to stick to friends.
Like why I lost that fight.At least my feelings were consistent when it came to shitty timing, although I didn’t think this was one of thoseconsistency is keyinstances. Less than a month to go till training camp took over my life and things like phone calls became luxuries of time I couldn’t afford, not if I was going to do everything in my power to win, which I was.
“Even more reason to come with us to the party,” Finn said, clapping me on the back. “It’s sad to spend Saturday night at home, drinking alone.”
“I’m not alone. George is here.”
“George? Who the hell is—”
“Chelsea’s cat,” Brooklyn said, so apparently they’d been talking. Of course they had. They used to have regular powwows in the gym back in the day. Sometimes I missed those nights when we could all go out, no pressure, no looming fights or being so aware of the gym’s bumpy financial situation. Sure, I’d only had minor bouts back then, but climbing the ladder and reaching that top rung had its own set of pressures. So did the Roth name. Anything less than winning a belt seemed like a failure.
And considering how badly the gym, the team, and my family needed me to win, it would be.
That’swhat I should be focused on—two and a half more months to get myself into the best fighting shape of my life. Not the fact that my best friend was out with another guy.
“Oh, hey, I see him.” Finn crouched in front of the entertainment center, and the damn cat came out and rubbed his head on Finn’s outstretched palm.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I grumbled, and everyone turned to me. “I’ve spent days bribing that cat, and he still doesn’t like me. It morphed into hate about the time I brushed his teeth.”
“You brushed his teeth?” Shane asked, mouth slightly agape.
“Hey, I don’t want to hear it from the guy who missed seeing his favorite fighter win a belt to go to an art show.”
“Hey!”Brooklyn said, since it had been her art show.
Shane reached for my sister, tugging her to him. “I was in love with the girl, and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.” He winked at Brooklyn, and she grinned, and then they devolved into eye-humping each other. After several nauseating seconds, he dragged his attention off her and glanced at me. “In other words, no judgment. The right girl will make you do things you never thought you’d do.”
“Chelsea and I are—”
“Just friends,” Finn and Brooklyn finished at the same time, and then they laughed. And now Finn was holding George, scratching the cat under his chin and making him purr so damn loud I could hear it from here.
