“It must be broken.” His glove slams into my right side with enough force to send me stumbling, my left leg throwing off my balance. “Only reasonable cause for you to have not said shit to either of us since the funeral.”
He lets me land my next hit. Which only manages to piss me off even more.
“Not feeling very reasonable lately.” I make a reckless move, completely missing him and leaving me open.
Oliver only pulls his punch a little, his glove slamming into my jaw, sending me to the ropes.
“Sloppy.” His teeth flash white, but the gleam doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Fuck you.”
He ignores me. “You done already?” Wiping a glove across his forehead, he studies the leather. “I’ve hardly broken a sweat.”
I should say yes. I should just grab my shit and leave. Instead, I slam my gloves together, “Let’s fix that.”
Nothing else is said until we’re both panting.
“Are you two done?” Lucy asks, looking up from her phone.
My body sags against the ropes, the slightest taste of copper on my tongue. Must’ve bitten my cheek.
“Don’t know,” Oliver huffs. “Up to him.”
“Me? You threatened to evict me. This is your fucking game.”
He shrugs. “Thought if I could get you to throw some punches, you’d at least hang around for a minute.” That fucking grin again. “Worked.”
“Can confirm, his phone appears to be working by the way.” Lucy holds my phone up.
“Put that dow—” I lunge for the opposite side of the ring, and my leg finally gives out. Pain slams through me as my knees hit the mat. “Fuck,” I gasp.
I hear Oliver’s gloves hit the vinyl as he rushes over to me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
He ignores me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I throw him off with enough force to send him to the mat.
“Cillian!” Lucy hurls my name like an accusation as she slides through the ropes to check on Oliver.
“I'm fine,” he says.
She spins on me, “What the fuck, man?”
“Give me my phone.” I clench my jaw as I reposition to rest against the ropes, gripping my thigh. Rather than hand it to me, Lucy slides it across the mat.
“I didn't open it,” she says. “Just happened to look down when Kitty called.”
“Who you’ve also hardly spoken to since the funeral,” Oliver says.
“Guess there’s a group chat I’m not in.” I set my phone face down, not wanting to think about the missed texts and calls from the last few weeks.
“Not like you’d respond if you were,” Lucy says.
“Sorry, I’m not feeling chatty since finding my cousinafter he ate a bullet. I’ll fucking work on it.” Silence hangs. “That what you guys wanted to hear? No?”
“We don’t expect you to be chatty,” Lucy says.
“But we do expect you not to shut everyone out again,” Oliver adds.
