Page 46 of The Heartbreak List

“Oh, that’s good.”

“What about you? Any sore spots?” He gets up in one fluid movement and watches me carefully while I put on my shoes. “I tried to be careful, but you were a little heathen. When you jumped me, I thought for sure it was going to end up in disaster.”

“You protected me. The whole time. That’s the only reason the match wasn’t immediately over, isn’t it?” He could have had me pinned as soon as we stepped inside the ring. I rub my bruised wrist. Of course he could.

“Oops. Busted.” He squints with one eye. Lays that pretty boy smile on me. He offers his hand and lifts me to my feet. Steadies me with a hand cupping my elbow. “So. Injuries?”

“Uh…” I take stock of my body and its aches. I’m still dealing with the headache hangover and my muscles are almost shaky after swinging a baseball bat and then with the effort to topple Theo. “Nothing new.”

Sticky and gross, we hang around to watch more wrestlers fight it out. Theo gets back in the pool twice more as he moves through the rounds. He loses in the third round to a Finnish man who is as solid as a tree trunk and is possibly a real lumberjack. But he’s grinning from ear-to-ear as he limps back to me with his boots and jacket in hand.

I can’t help but beam up at him. I like seeing him relaxed like this. It makes him appear boyish, like he doesn’t have any big cares, or he hasn’t experienced whatever has jaded him.

“I think I have Jell-O in my ass crack.” He laughs as he shoves his socked feet into his boots.

I wrinkle my nose as I stand up and brush a wet blob from his cheek. “And everywhere else. You’re coated in it.”

“Yeah?” He stares at me funny, and it makes my pulse weird out.

Wrapping an arm around me, he drags me up against him and covers me in a fresh smattering of the sticky goop. “You’re all covered in it too.”

“Oh my God, stop it,” I squeal. I’m still tacky, but at least I’d managed to flick away the bits of Jell-O as they’d dried. Now, I’ll have to start again.

He laughs as he lets me go. “Consider that payback for junk punching me earlier.”

My heart is racing, but it could be the tumor. It could be another sign of my impending doom. My nerves fluttering could definitely be the tumor. This light-headedness, well, I probably overextended myself. I haven’t eaten since the macaroni. I turned down Theo’s offer to buy me lunch.

“Theodore Valentine?” a gruff, masculine voice calls out.

“Fuck.” Theo’s eyes widen and his face turns as white as a sheet. Taking my hand, he tugs me toward the exit.

The guy follows us as people try to stop Theo to talk about his wrestling prowess or commiserate on his losing the match to the Finn. Our tail is an older man with dark hair and salt and pepper in his wild beard. His blue eyes flick to me for a second before they go back to burning into Theo’s back.

“Do you know him?” I ask.

“Used to.” Theo doesn’t slow down, but he draws me ahead of him. Presses his palm to the middle of my hips as he shoves open the door and ushers me into the cool evening.

We were here longer than I realized. The door opens and closes again. “Why is he following us?”

Or more importantly, why is Theo practically running from him?

Theo ignores the question. His whole body language has changed since the guy approached. He hurries me across the parking lot.

“Hey, I want to talk to you, Valentine,” the man yells, an edge to every word.

“He’s still coming.” My pulse is racing, and this is definitely not the tumor. The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end.

Theo unlocks the truck and yanks open the door. “Get in, Indy. Get in now.”

I scramble up into the seat and when I’m free of the door he closes it. The locks click as he hits the button on the fob, sealing me inside.

The man shoves Theo against the door. Pushes a thick finger in his face. “I knew it was you, you piece of shit.”

“Don’t do this, Nelson.” Theo lifts his hands as though he’s surrendering to this guy.

I don’t understand. He fights. He’s skilled at it. He told me over pancakes that he’s trained in martial arts his entire life. Shouldn’t he be protecting himself? I fumble my phone as I light up the screen, tapping in 9-1-1.

“Please.” He bows his head. “Not in front of her. You don’t want to scare her.”

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