I snapped my mouth shut. “Maybe you need better friends.”
Katie tilted her head to the side and raised her brows.
“What Katie is trying to say is that you’ve always been there for Brock. You’ve gone out of your way to be there for him,” Abby tried again, and this time Katie didn’t interrupt her. “And he’s . . .”
Abby didn’t finish.
She didn’t have to.
Because she was too nice and Brock was just . . . well, he was Brock.
I drew in a deep breath as I met Katie’s stare. “I did those things for him because he was really injured, and I was just helping him.”
“And he’s all better now.” Katie tugged the sleeve of her shirt up again. “Next weekend is his big return to the MMA scene.”
My stomach knotted, like it did every time I thought about his upcoming fight. He’d been training for his big comeback since the moment the doctor cleared him to return to the cage—the Octagon.
It would be okay though.
Because my father wouldn’t have backed Brock if he thought for a second he wasn’t ready. Not when my father was the Andrew Lima, a ju-jitsu and mixed martial arts expert.
Dad had discovered Brock when he was just a teen, fourteen years old. Brock had a natural talent when it came to mimicking moves. When he was younger, every kick, submission hold, and skill had been self-taught.
I was eight years old when my father brought him into the Lima fold—into our family—and under my father’s tutelage, Brock quickly became the next big thing once he was old enough to compete. Everyone wanted him. Endorsements. Pay-Per-View fights. He was on his way up, and I’d been so happy for him, because Brock hadn’t had an easy life up to that point, and no one—no one—deserved it more than him.
Almost two years ago, while he was working with one of the new recruits at the Academy’s main facilities in the city, he’d suffered a pectoralis major tendon rupture, a serious tear of the interior muscle of the chest. The horror and helplessness I’d felt when it had happened resurfaced. It took no effort to see him falling to his knees, clutching at his chest as pain etched into his striking features. It had been so bad he’d been rushed into surgery, but with rest and rehab, he’d been able to return to top fighting form.
Shaking my head, I refocused on the present. “I did those things for him because he’s my friend. I’d do them for any of my friends.”
Katie looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it, and I shifted uncomfortably on my seat. Katie never held back, so if she was holding back now, it couldn’t be good.
Then again, none of my friends really got the whole Brock situation, and not a single one of them thought it was a good thing.
I took a deep breath and lifted my chin. “And Brock did ask me to come home this weekend. He wants to go out to dinner tonight, just him and me—an early celebration in honor of his fight next week since he leaves tomorrow night with my dad to train there.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “What? You’re just now telling us this?”
Biting down on my lip to stop myself from grinning, I shrugged. “I really didn’t get the chance to explain since someone—” I paused, shooting Katie a pointed look. “—has been lecturing me for the last thirty minutes.”
“I am not ashamed of this piece of knowledge,” Katie replied.
“Is this a date?” Abby demanded.
My stomach tumbled again. A date? Oh God, just thinking about tonight like it was a date made me want to laugh and vomit at the same time, and that would be rather impressive . . . and gross. “It’s not really a date. I mean, he didn’t call it a date, but it is just us.”
Abby opened her mouth and then looked over at Katie. I waited, knowing that whatever Katie was about to say, I probably didn’t want to hear it.
Katie plopped her arms down on the table, rattling the silverware. “If you don’t know if it’s a date, it’s not a date.”
The grin I’d been fighting slipped away. “I don’t think it’s a date, Katie.”
She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I really hate that man.”
I deflated like a balloon that had been pricked. Katie didn’t understand. Time to change the subject. I glanced over at Abby. “Are you and Colton still planning to go to the Poconos for your anniversary?”
“Yep. Next weekend. I can’t believe it’s already been two years.” Her lips curved up into a pretty smile.
“Time for you to start popping out some babies,” advised Katie.
Abby’s eyes widened. “I don’t know about that.”
I grinned, thinking a little. Abby and Colton baby would be adorable. I was absolutely fascinated with how the two had reconnected. It was like something straight out of the romance books Abby edited for a living. They’d known each other in high school. Abby had innocently crushed on Colton even though she’d married her high-school sweetheart, but her husband had sadly passed away. Then, years later, Abby had run into Colton after witnessing a murder—a freaking murder that Colton ended up investigating. The odds! Seriously.
“What about you?” queried Abby, her stare pointed. “When are you going to give up the pole and have some kids?”
“Give up the pole?” Katie tipped her head back and laughed. “If and when I have kids, that doesn’t mean I’ve got to give up dancing.”
I pressed my lips together to stop the giggle building in the back of my throat as I pictured a pregnant Katie working the pole. If anyone would strip while obviously pregnant, it would be Katie. She’d work it, belly and all.