Heather gives another grin, shaking her head with a laugh. “He does love his sports therapists.”
“What?” I ask, as if I heard that all wrong.What does that mean?
“I am his old one.Andex-girlfriend.” Heather pauses, as if her statement wins a victory over me. Especially since something uncontrolled flashes across my eyes, seeing this woman in an entirely new light.
Andhis sports therapist?
Wait... like, his actual previoussports therapist?
Heather says, “Oh, I see. Youdofeel something there. Don’t know how serious you two are—”
“We are nothing,” I insist, cutting her off, looking away, knowing not even tothinkabout putting my hand in that cookie jar. Despite my words, my pounding heart surges acrid blood through my veins, burning my skin, because Ryder is the exact opposite ofnothingto me.
Heather peers out the window that overlooks the street. “Please. I saw him looking at you all night. I know when Joey wants someone. I saw you smiling when he was talking to you, so I am not an idiot.”
My phone nearly slips from my sweating hands. “What do you want?”
The corner of Heather’s lips reveals the faintest smile. “Just wanted to meet the competition. Itisall a game.”
“Competition for Warlord?” I ask, raising a brow.
I know what Heather means, but I want her to say it. I’m completely numb, wanting to break away so I can actually process what I heard.
Why can’t Tiffany have her phone at a time like this...
Heather shrugs. “Little bit of that, little bit of other things. I mean, there’s no other reason for me to introduce myself.”
Fine. I’ll bite. “Well, he hasn’t mentioned you at all, so I assume not much of a competition.”
I catch a hint of ire in Heather’s eyes before I walk past, heading down the stairs to the lobby door, a hand on the railing for balance while in these shoes.
I am completely flustered, my blood running hot enough that I don’t care if it’s cold out. What in the hell do I do with the information that Ryder’sex-girlfriendis also his oldsports therapist?Or that Heather is here tonight and feels the need to confront me?
Is it even a big deal?
It feels like it is.
Standing there in the cold, it all suddenly makes so much sense, though. No wonder he wanted some old man in his fifties. The asshole has a past that he’s never even told me about! Then again, when would he have told me? He loves being such anenigma.
I don’t even know why I’m so mad, but I am. I feel like I should have known that before making out with him or letting him get that far into my head and heart.
Or get that far in my fuckingpants.
Worst of all, I can’t even talk to him about it until after this event, as no matter what, I will uphold my promise—I can separate personal shit from the game. If I want to run this gym properly, I have to prove I can turn everything off when it matters most.
Tears form out of anger, feeling like an idiot riding high on a dream from ten years ago. A rational part of my mind gives all these reasons to give him the benefit of the doubt, but another side can’t help but feel slighted.
Maybe it’s the lying by omission that makes it seem like he’s avoiding telling me on purpose.
Or maybe my anxiety is what’s getting the best of me, allowing worry to weigh me down, concerned that I’ve made a poor decision by opening this door.
Jeremywarnedme about Ryder years ago when the fighter was just a fantasy.
What if my brother was right, and I blew everything? What if my grief got the best of me and clouded my better judgment?
Why do Ryder and I have to get along so damn well?
This would be so much easier if we didn’t.
