Another gulp of wine and I drain it. I scoot the glass on the bar, the smallest dribble of red congealing at the bottom. Liquid courage pats me on the back, reminding me that I can do this. “Whatever. I met her. It’s done with.”
“Yeah, you sound far from being worried,” he delicately replies, surveying the bustling room.
“Ryder, you have a fight tomorrow. Go worry about that,” I sternly answer, staring at my empty glass. “Maybe this is the sign we need, alright? You worry about yourself. I’ll worry about myself.”
He leans in, just ever so, reaching out like he’s about to grab me, but refrains since we’re in public. “Yeah, no, I need to clear the air first. What fucking sign? Sign for what?”
“It’sfine,” I declare, dropping my hands to my lap. We both have to focus for tomorrow.
“Jules…” he starts, and I stiffen at the nickname. “Can we go somewhere private?”
Stealing one more glance at him, I’m slightly thrown off by how vulnerable his eyes are. It’s almost enough for me to drop it, but the words ache in the back of my throat, demanding to be spoken. “Look, I am not here to cause drama. I am not going to make snide comments or anything of the like. This is my brother’s legacy, so I’m going to fight for it. But yeah, I’m feeling…things. You have every right to keep whatever you want to yourself.
“Personal shit and worries aside about your hot ex-girlfriend confronting me like she and I are supposed to duke it out over you, the real reason I am sitting here is the fact that as yourcurrentsports therapist, I wasn’t aware that you had a thing with your last one. That feels important to know before”—I motion between us— “I become yoursecondsports therapist you’re dicking around with.” I pause when I realize it makes me sound like I think lowly of him. “I like you—a lot—and it just feels weird that I didn’t know. I’m sorry if I’m not making any sense. There’s just… there’s something about not knowing that makes me feel like I could have misjudged you. That really threw me off.”
He remains silent, his jaw grinding. “Julie. I don’t...” His frustration brings out a slight scowl. “Look, I’m not just fucking around with you. That’s why I said something earlier. Idon’twant to fuck up your goals with the gym.”
“Why didn’t you just say anything about her, though? I think that’s why I feel so…funny.”
I still can’t quite put into words why this makes my resolve break so easily.
A guarded expression overcomes him, his blink removing it. Ryder speaks very quietly as he leans in. “I don’t talk about my past. I hate that shit. And I honestly just didn’t think about it. As in, I didn’t think about mentioning it. If I had known she was coming before yesterday morning, I would have said something. But I didn’t. My head only has so much room to deal with everything that’s going on,” he explains, hooded blue eyes looking anywhere but me.
It appears like we are only having a stern conversation versus a heart-to-heart in the middle of a hotel bar. I’m breathing rapidly, my heart pulled in many directions, like the two angels on my shoulder are in a tug of war.
He sighs, rolling his bottom lip against his teeth. He continues to speak while not looking at me, but does glance my way at times. “Look, I get it. I’ve been a closed fucking book. So fine… When I first came here, I was still getting adjusted to my life, and all I wanted was to get back into that ring, beat the shit out of some guys, and do what I can to support my family. I wanted this to run as smoothly as possible, and I just thought bringing Heather up in the beginning would open that door, and I didn’t want that.
“Especially since you’re freaking gorgeous and made me laugh when I didn’t want to. It was a defense mechanism, because it scared me to have history repeat itself. But then I started to get to know you, and I just... fuck, I don’t know.” He slowly looks me in the eye. “I got lost in interacting with you, alright? I didn’t want that Heather bullshit touching you. I don’t want youanywhereclose to all the shitty baggage that I have, Jules… It’s all moving quicker than I expected, to be honest, and I’m not complaining. I’m just thrown off in my own way.”
My anger turns to dust, and I hate we are having this conversation right before his fight tomorrow. I sigh and stare into those blue eyes that are softened, just for me. My lips falter, as I want to say so much, but I know he has to get his head in the game for tomorrow.
“Okay,” I concede with a solid nod, a smile slowly forming. “I’m okay, alright? But itisa lot to take in. I just want to do what’s right, you know? For both the gym, and for you,” I say, eyeing his tie. “At least you seem to care. That means a lot.”
His gaze hardens. “Yeah, I do care,” he says, resolute. “And what else did she say? In case there’s something else I need to clear up. Please let me clear it up, if there is something.”
I look at the bar table, snorting. “She called me competition.”
A sardonic chuckle escapes him, shaking his head. “She’s literally the opposite of competition. Also, you don’t evenhavecompetition,” he says like a gossiper that’s astonished at the drama being passed around. “What’d you tell her?”
Residual anger sharpens my tone. “Well, I was shocked and had no idea what to do because, you know, I didn’t have a damn clue, but I just get angry and driven when I’m mad, so I told her that you haven’t spoken of her, so she’s clearly nothing to compete with.”
His grin is wide and reaches his eyes. I’m stuck staring into them, especially when he folds in his bottom lip and stares at me like we aren’t in a hotel bar with everyone watching us. “Look, I like you for more than just seeing how many sports therapists I can screw around with, or something like that. You gotta know that.”
Those words mean more to me than I thought they would; it’s such arelief. “Thanks for coming to check on me… That means a lot.”
“Yeah, I was about to go to your room if you weren’t here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Heather’s fucking nuts. Who knows what she said to you? I wasn’t willing to leave you hanging like that. I don’t want something from my past taking a swing at you.”
Reaching out, I touch his broad hand in as friendly a way as possible so it won’t be misconstrued by others, and he holds my gaze like I’m delivering a serious verdict. “I appreciate it. And I’m not one to judge your past, alright? I work with MMA fighters,” I say, pulling my hand away as I grab my purse.
He looks miffed that I removed the touch. I add, “They’ve all got some fucked-up backstory, and I also get that some things just aren’t ever going to be talked about. But please don’t keep me in the dark if something else is there that’ll affect me. At least give me a warning sign, billboard, blimp, or something. I like being prepared, especially since I am taking this gym owner stuff seriously, now.” I purse my lips. I can’t explain the complex train of thoughts that occurred today when Rob approached me, but I do recognize that Ryder needs to feel secure for tomorrow. “And I’m sorry if I overreacted. It just freaks me out to think I will poorly handle Jeremy’s gym…” I avert my gaze. “I think it’s still hitting me that I am inWarlord.”
“I get that,” he gently replies. His lips part like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.
I slide off the stool, his unmoving body now only a few inches from me, as if he’s making a point that he’s not backing down so easily.
