A ball of pain gathers at my throat and I can barely stand it.
He’s so handsome, so familiar, I feel like a prisoner in my own body, screaming to touch what I had, for weeks, viewed as mine.
His big hands are still deeply buried in his jeans, and I wonder if he may be struggling with the same issues too? But there’s a somberness in his expression that is rarely there when his eyes are blue. And they are so blue, I’m drowning in them.
I wrap my arms around me and drop my head as the shame continues building inside me. “Why didn’t you tell me? That you threw the fight for … her?”
I can’t even say “me”—I feel awful.
But Remington says softly, “You mean you.”
Riley interrupts, “I didn’t know either, Brooke. Or Coach. Only Pete knew. He’s the one who found him that night, and he helped secure your sister while Remington delivered the win.”
My eyes shift to the face of my dreams, and my voice drops as the pain of what he did for me seeps through my pores.
“How are you? Are you all right?” I look at him, and his eyes are blue and on fire with emotion as he nods. He’s angry at me. I think. I don’t know. I feel punched in the gut when I look at him, but at the same time, it’s all I want to do.
“What does this loss mean for you now?” I ask him. Oh, god, I missed my Remington so much that when I look at him, all perfect blue eyes, beautiful face, I feel water in my eyes.
I think he’s having trouble talking too, because there’s a silence.
A violent and unexpected despair surges wildly through me as I stare at this surprising, unpredictable man, the ever-changing mystery of Remington Tate, and suddenly, nothing in the world has hurt me more than having had him and lost him.
“The loss? Other than we’re poor?” Riley finally answers when it seems neither Remington nor I are going to speak. He chuckles a bit too loudly and rakes his hair back. “He has a couple million to get him through the year. We’re making a comeback when the new season starts. Remy’s fans demand retribution.”
“You do have loyal fans, don’t you?” I quietly ask, directing my question to Remington as I remember all the flowers he made them bring me, and I feel queasy and excited again.
This second it feels like my entire life I’ve been waiting to talk to him again. My running partner and friend, my lover. My love.
“Well, time to go.” Riley slaps Remington’s back, and my insides feel pain. “Actually, Brooke, we’re also here because we’re looking for a sports rehab specialist for the upcoming new season. Good to get a head start on training,” Riley says, producing something from his back pocket. “In case you’re interested, Mr. Tate’s number, if you consider, is on the back. There’s the hotel where we’re staying too. We leave in three days.”
I watch Riley climb into the car, and then Pete strides out of my apartment and says goodbye.
I look at Remington, and he looks directly back at me, and through all the emotions I see in his eyes, I can’t decide which one reels me in the most. My skin breaks in goose bumps in a silent plea of his touch—tingling in remembrance of his calluses, the way he drags his tongue over me. My dark-haired lion. Licking and claiming me.
My heart hurts me as we both stare, but neither of us is talking, even when there are a thousand things weighing on us both.
“You’re looking good, Remy,” Melanie says with a sunny smile.
He graces her with a sight of those dimples that kill me, and then his eyes flick back to me and the dimples are gone. “You know where to find me.” He climbs in the car and leaves, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake, all along my skin.
Melanie goes inside first, but I stay outside under the sun, just … processing.
Then, I stride into my place and my heart swells at the sound of Nora’s excited voice, reminding me she’s here. Suddenly my apartment sounds like a college dorm with laughing friends, and all because of Remy.
“I really think he likes me!”
“Nora!” I come into the eclectic living room—courtesy of Melanie’s free decoration skills—and squeeze my sister in a big bear hug again, where I get to be the bear. “Let me look at you. You okay?”
I inspect her head to toe, and admit she looks good. Rosy cheeks, brilliant grin. She’s cut that golden mane into a cute bob to her elfin ears, and there’s color in her sweet, curled lips. She looks slender and wholesome, and the animation in her eyes enchants me. This is the Nora I remember. My baby sister.
She squeezes my hands and nods emphatically, lacing her cool fingers happily through mine.
“Nora was telling me how Remington fought Scorpion for her.” Melanie widens her eyes at me and nods meaningfully. “She thinks Remington is way hot because of the way he fought Scorpion for her.”
A sneaky hint of jealousy curls around my tummy. “Oh. Of course.”
Nora has seen him for the past four weeks, maybe, and the thought of any woman enjoying his smiles and his voice, while I’ve been denying myself of it, makes me a little sick.
“Brooke, you should have seen him,” Nora bursts out, oblivious to my inner torture chamber called a “heart.”
“He just barged into our rental rooms and knocked out two of the men, and then he went straight to pound Benny’s face, nonstop. He rammed a pencil into his tattoo so deep he completely deformed it.”
“Wait! Who the hell is Benny?” Melanie asks.
“Scorpion!” Nora explains, her smile eager with delight. Seriously, I’m still staring at her in awe because she looks like another person compared to the drugged, fiery-haired girl with a scorpion tattoo at the Japanese restaurant. The wonders a month of rehab can do. And my dark-haired fighter…