Page 4 of Rematch
I was reluctant to say yes at first, but the more we talked and the more I learned about his own training in MMA, the easier the answer became. I wish I could say I didn’t know why, but I loved a man who knew his way around the octagon.
I didn’t even consider the chance he might know Max. Didn’t consider the chance Max was still pursuing that dream.
From the short bit I saw tonight, it wasn’t a pursuit anymore. It was a thriving career. And while I was happy to see at least one of his dreams come true, the dark glint in his eyes made me worry about what else he’s attained over the years.
“We’re old friends,” I repeated my answer from earlier.
Carter shot me a quick glance. “Oh come on,” he encouraged with a small smile. “No need to be shy on the details.”
“Well, Max and his mom moved in next door when we were ten. My fathers are overly friendly, so we went over to introduce ourselves and welcome them to the neighborhood. Our parents clicked, and so did we. Since then, we’ve always been close.”
“Ah, so he’s like a brother to you?”
My nose twitched, threatening to wrinkle up at the notion. Max was a lot of things to me, but never that. “No,” I admitted. “We were friends for a long time. And then we were…“
“Lovers,” Carter finished for me when I was too embarrassed to. He gave me another quick look, this time accompanied with a knowing smile. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh. “I didn’t know he was fighting tonight. And I definitely didn’t know he was going to-“
“It’s alright,” Carter said. He reached over the center dash and grabbed my hand. “You’re still next to me, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m not worried about it.” His fingers tightened around my palm. “As long as he doesn’t start any trouble, we’ll be cool.
I looked out the window to hide my weary smile. I was glad Carter was so confident in himself, but he didn’t know Max. Trouble used to be his middle name.
When we pulled up to my house, Carter parked his car on the curb a few inches from the driveway. He hurried out from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s side to open the door for me.
Hand-in-hand, we took the short walk up to the porch. Underneath the golden porch light, he wrapped his hands around my waist, pulled me close and kissed me.
His soft lips, attentive and passionate, chased away the jitters from earlier. I relaxed against his body and looped my arms around his neck.
Times like this reminded me of couples from rom-com movies. Those scenes when he’d walk her up to the door, kiss her goodnight, and leave with lingering stares between them.
Times like this made me think Carter could be good for me. From what I’ve gathered, he works as a contractor, trains in mixed martial arts in his free time, and has good manners. So far, there hasn’t been a red flag in sight.
But, I’ve been keeping him at arms length for a reason. Dating wasn’t my main priority right now. Hell, it was supposed to be a “fun distraction” as my friend, Gianna, called it when I first told her about him. Then we went out on our first date and his presence suddenly became a part of my daily routine. He calls almost every day, we hang out every other weekend, and texts fill the gaps in between.
Two months later, and I was starting to feel bad for stringing Carter along.
In moments like this, the idea of becoming more - solidifying this - crossed my mind. But in the next, he’s gone and I’m reminded of all the reasons I moved back.
Papa’s silhouette in the kitchen was the first thing I saw when I walked through the door. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup and a frown etched onto his face. More gray has been streaking through his dark hair, and worry lines were beginning to become more prominent around his mouth.
At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up and masked the weariness with a smile. “Hey, baby girl,” he greeted me. “How was your night?”
“Good,” I said. I pecked a soft kiss at his temple and took the other open seat at the table. “It’s not going so well for Dad, though, is it?”
Papa looked down at his drink. “No,” he admitted. “The chemo from the other day is starting to hit him, and he hasn’t been…” His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, unable to admit the hard parts aloud. “But, he’s sleeping now.”
“Well, you should get some rest too.” I grabbed the handle of the mug and slid it out from his hands. “I will sip on this and help him if he needs anything.”
“Audrey,” Papa started.
“Papa,” I countered with a stern voice. “Go lay down. You’re no good to him if you’re running on fumes.”
He sighed. “This was supposed to be your night off. I thought you were going to be out late. Maybe stay over what’s-his-name’s house.”
