Gabe blinked. “Yeah. That’d be amazing.”
“I’ll put him in touch.”
“Thanks, man.”
Jase nodded, then snagged Evan’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. I stepped out of the way to give them space and found myself in front of Gabe.
The rest of the room faded into the background as all my senses fixated on him. My body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at having him so close, like his looming presence was a shelter I could rest under, a safe place to let go. And not just with sex.
“You and Evan, huh?” I asked, hooking my fingers together so I didn’t reach for him. We’d touched in public before, but not around people we knew. People who would ask questions that were easier not to answer. And not when I wanted it to be real this badly. “How did that happen?”
He watched my hands, a soft smile on his lips. “Simple. We both wanted you to have a good birthday.”
It wasn’t just a birthday they had given me. It was a piece of myself I’d been too afraid to ask to keep. That feeling of connection with these people he’d helped bring together for me. A connection he’d known I needed.
I swallowed and met his stare. “It was one of my best,” I said honestly, my heart aching with gratitude and love. For them. For him. For this place. “Thank you.”
He reached out and brushed a strand of my hair. A whisper of how he’d played with it this afternoon in the garden. It was the only touch he let himself have.
“Anything you want,” he murmured, “it’s yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gabe
Colin’s jabcame at me straight on. I slipped it just in time, ducking to the outside and landing my own punch to his headgear. Not hard enough to do damage—we weren’t going full force—but leaning into the movement and getting my timing right still invigorated me.
“Good,” Colin said when the timer went off, signaling the end of that round. The word came out slightly muffled through his mouth guard. “That defensive work is solid, man. Don’t stay too long on that back foot. Keep up the pressure, yeah?”
I nodded, grabbing my water through the ropes and taking a sip. We were both dripping sweat even though it was cool enough to need the space heater today. We’d been sparring for a couple of hours, this round all about drilling defense, and I was grateful for the huge amount of cardio I’d done the past two months.
Colin was a fucking awesome sparring partner. Barely an inch shorter than me and nearly my weight, he’d been training at a boxing gym his whole adult life and was exactly the kind of body I needed to work with in the ring. We’d practiced together one other time in the week and a half since Aubrey’s birthday, and I could feel my skills sharpening already.
They were almost back to what they’d been before I retired. Maybe not quite as fast, but just as smooth and every bit as strategic. With one week until the tournament, I was right where I wanted to be. Strong and getting stronger. Ready for more.
Ready to actually win this thing.
“I can’t believe you were never pro,” I said as we caught our breaths another minute. “You could have been if you wanted to.” Probably still could. His moves weren’t the most creative, but his technique was solid, and he was in absurd shape for someone who did this on the side of running his own art gallery.
He grinned, white teeth flashing against his rich brown skin. “I thought about it for a minute in uni. There was just no getting around that boxing was a passion, but art wasthepassion, you know what I mean?”
I smiled in response, his British accent putting me back in the gym in London. If I closed my eyes, I could almost be there, standing under the fluorescent lights, listening to Coach Peter’s feedback, getting ready to watch the next pair of fighters spar in the ring.
I knew exactly the passion he was talking about.
“You never wished you were the one making the art?”
He shrugged. “Still getting it out in the world, aren’t I? Just at a different part of the process.”
I probably wouldn’t have agreed before my shoulder injury. Wouldn’t have imagined anything could bring the same fulfillment as being in that ring, landing and slipping punches myself. And maybe coaching wasn’t the same, but as Colin said—it was still a part of the process.
My phone lit up on the side of the mat, and I spotted Aubrey’s name. “I’m going to take this quick,” I told Colin as I slipped off one glove.
“Go for it.”
I took out my mouth guard on the way to the office and answered as I stepped inside. “Hey,” I said, nearly out of breath. My heart pounded as if I’d been running.
“Hey,” she greeted, her voice shining like the sun off her golden hair. “I’m heading over in a little bit. I just need to stop by the restaurant to talk to Jillian quick.”
