Page 29 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
Catherine throws herself against the door. She looks like she’s trying to hold back an invasion.
There’s no stopping this fight now.
Ricky keeps hammering—he sounds like the fucking cops. For once, I think I’d rather deal with them.
“Open the door! I knew it! I knew you two were sneaking around!”
“Get the hell out of here, Ricky,” Catherine calls back, still naked and glistening between her legs. “You sound psychotic.”
“You think I’m fucking stupid!? I saw you! And two guys at the gym told me something was up! Get out here!”
The door shakes with each slam.
We get our clothes back on while he assaults the door.
This was bound to happen. We got sloppy—too comfortable. I should have come clean with Don the first time Catherine and I hooked up. Maybe even the first day, when I saw her and knew that she took precedence over everything.
“I’m letting him in,” I say, heading for the latch. “Fuck this.”
“No!”
Catherine steps between me and the door.
“If you let him in, I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Let me in!”
I growl, “That’s what I’m trying to do, asshole!”
The door shakes even harder. “I knew you were in there!”
Catherine turns, pleading with him while she looks through the peephole. “Ricky, we were going to tell you and Dad. I swear, we decided we didn’t want this to be a secret anymore.”
“Bullshit!”
My hands are ready. If he comes through that door swinging, if he puts Catherine in harm’s way for even a second, I won’t be able to hold back this time.
Catherine slams back. “Screw you, Ricky! This whole thing is stupid. You think either of you can tell me who I’m allowed to love? Get over yourself! Our relationship is none of your business…”
The wordlove,leaving her lips, nearly makes me melt. No time for that now…
Ricky laughs like something in his brain just broke. I’m reminded of that officer on the ship, the way he smiled and laughed like he’d done nothing wrong.
“He’sdone,” Ricky says. “You think Dad will train him now? I hope she was worth it, loser!”
With one last kick to the door, we listen to him trail off down the hall like an angry dog.
Catherine runs to the window. I hear the tires squeal.
“He’ll go straight to the gym,” she says.
“Yeah. Then that’s where we’re going.”
The entire ride, Catherine tries calling her dad. No answer. All she gets is his awkward, rough voice mail.
“Heneverignores my calls.”
“By now, he knows,” I say, staring out the window. “Time to face the music.”
