“What did you say?” I reiterate, facing her fully, slowly articulating every word.
“Come on, Joey. Just making sure she knows who I am. I don’t think she knew about me, actually.”
My lips part, my jaw moving as I try to control myself. “Fuck,” I say, looking away.
Fucking great.
I don’t even say anything to Heather as I brusquely walk to the hotel, my pace quick and my annoyance maintaining a dangerous glower.
This is why I wanted to go at this alone. I can’t afford to become distracted because I absolutely can’t afford to fucking lose.
J U L I E
* * *
I'm so peevedthat I park my ass right at the bar rather than go to my room, wondering how many people are staring at me and know of Ryder’s history. Even Andrew didn’t say anything. There’s always a chance that many don’t know, sinceIdidn’t even know, but that doesn’t count in my head.
Him having an ex that’s a sports therapist isn’t the end of the world, either. People date within the pool they swim in. It just rubs me the wrong way that he never brought it up. Did he do that on purpose? Does he still have something with the old one?
I really don’t like this situation.
It feels… off.
Sitting at the hotel bar, sipping on a cabernet, I scroll through social media. My fingers are frozen as I stare at a search bar, curiosity scratching at the back of my eyes. Clenching my jaw, I type “warlord” into the search engine. I nearly choke on air when I see pictures of myself following Ryder to the gala.
I close the apps and set the phone down, leaning forward on my elbows. What will they say when they catch wind of Ryder messing around with hissecondsports therapist? How can I explain that to Dad? To Jeremy’s ghost? What if I am ruining the gym name because of this?
I was so resolute only twenty-four hours ago, and now my feet are as cold as Heather’s eyes. It’s the opposite of what I want. And I hate it.
As I take another sip of wine, sighing when it’s nearly empty, someone approaches me, clad in black. I smell his cologne before having to confirm who it is.
Ryder seems… disheveled? Not in appearance. No, he still looks perfect, except maybe slightly panting. But his eyes and the movements of his mouth suggest he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
He places a hand on the bar, leaning on it, filling in the empty space next to me. His stupid cologne saturates my lungs, twisting my stomach in bitter ways.
“So, uh... I, uh, heard you ran into the she-demon?”
There’s absolutely no reaction from me. I’ve thoroughly numbed myself, like leaving an icepack on for so long that my heart now has freezer burn.
My mind is quicker than my words, thankfully, and I realize he’s made it a point to come to find me.
Despite that, I still don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I’mnotgoing to be the only female gym owner, who isalsofucking her champion, while getting played by him. I bet the sex with Ryder would break me in beautiful ways, but this has to be more than that. Especially if he has a past.
Especiallyif he keeps things like that from me.
“You mean Heather?” I finally manage.
Licking his lips, his gaze meets mine. His fingers fidget, and his jaw is tightly clenched.
“Yeah, her,” I add, taking another slow drink, as if his irritation answered me.
“What did she say?” he asks, tapping his fingers.
I deeply inhale, my lungs filling with the smells of a cigar in the distance and Ryder’s musk. I swirl my wine, smearing the inside of the glass, not sure how to have a complex dialogue in the span of a few words.
I settle on, “Makes sense why you wanted some dude in his fifties.”
Lifting my chin so I can see him, I gauge his reaction. He immediately averts his gaze, the diminutive fidgeting continuing. He scratches his nose. “I didn’t know she’d be here until yesterday morning.”
