Zara leads the way to my room and digs right into my closet, stopping to smirk at me over her shoulder before taking out a dress I hardly ever wear. It’s long-sleeved, emerald green, and tight on my body. “This. This is what you’re wearing to his fight.”
“I’ll be too overdressed,” I say, though I can’t deny the dress does look good on me. It’s modest enough to avoid drawing too much attention, but the color brings out my eyes and complements the rich tones in my skin.
Zara sighs. “Haven’t you ever been to a fight before?”
“No.”
“Exactly. So let me be your guide.”
“But I’ll be freezing.”
“Wear tights, obviously. Wool ones. This is the outfit. You can keep the rest of your regular clothes in that suitcase if you just promise me you’ll put this on for the big night.”
“Okay,” I say, mostly to get her to stop talking about the “big night.” Just thinking of Bash in that ring, trading punches, makes my stomach knot with unease. If he gets hurt, I don’t know if I can take it.
And that thought alarms me even more.
Zara beams. “It’s settled then.”
“Yep. Thanks, sis.” I try to smile as I pack the dress into my luggage. But the unease in my chest lingers, sharp and heavy.
The twenty minutes I promised Bash when we got off the phone pass way too fast, and before I know it, he’s pulling into my driveway.
“Ooh. Let me meet him!” Zara nudges past me to get to his car as he’s getting out.
I cross my arms. There’s no use stopping this from happening, so I might as well just introduce them. “Bash, this is my sister, Zara. Zara, this is Bash.”
They shake hands, and Bash gives her a genuine grin. “Nice to meet you. Romilly talks about you so much, I was starting to feel like we’re already friends.”
Zara giggles. “Oh, believe me. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”
At that he arches a brow in my direction. “Oh, have you?”
I blush. “Okay, time to go. We don’t want to hit traffic.” I hug her. “Thank you again for staying with Jasper.”
“Anytime, sis. Anytime.” A twinkle enters her eye. “Have fun.” Zara waves goodbye from the porch with an annoying smirk on her lips as Bash lifts my suitcase with ease, closing the trunk once it’s inside.
And then we’re driving away. I risk a glance at him now that it’s just the two of us. He’s wearing a black hoodie with matching sweats, and his hair is messy in a way that makes me want to run my hands through the strands. I swallow. “Are you nervous?”
“For what?” His eyes connect with mine, awaking my butterfly tenants. “The fight?”
“Yeah.”
“No. I’m ready. I’ve been looking forward to this much too long.”
I can’t imagine how anyone could possibly look forward to getting hurt, but Bash bounces his knee with impatience, likethere’s nothing he wants more than to get to Boston and begin his match.
“You look more nervous than I feel,” he offers. “Are you alright?” He looks at me again, this time with concern.
Of course I’m not alright,I want to say.I’m going to have to see you get hurt.But instead, the corner of my mouth lifts. “Your car isn’t going to randomly break down or anything, is it?”
At that he grins. “I’ll have you know, I took it to a mechanic yesterday. Got a great deal, too. I promise you’re in good hands.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
BASH
We’re only halfwayto Boston when steam begins rising from beneath the hood of my car. It takes me a moment to realize what’s happening, because the day is overcast, with a heavy fog clinging to the trees and blurring the edges of the road. The steam blends right in with the thick, damp air, at first indistinguishable from the mist.
