Page 33 of Tell Me You Love Me

She attempts to coax her son into the car, fussing hands and hissed instructions. But the boy doesn’t want to go, and unless she picks him up and lobs him in, I’m not sure she’s gonna win this round.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Though Franklin slams the car door, she opens it again and tries to usher him forward.Oh, what she would give to be laying rubber on the road already. “Franky said how he had class at three o’clock, and I was under the impression you wouldn’t be here. My mother conveniently claims to be too busy to bring him today, so I had to do it. But I?—”

I wipe my face with the towel and start into the parking lot, bare-chested, barefoot, and so fucking filled with rage and bloodlust, I make surenotto toss my water bottle.

I hate to think what would happen to Alana’s pretty little neck if I suddenly had a free hand.

“Class starts in a minute, Franklin.” I come to a stop a few feet from the pair and note his sneakers. His jeans. Glasses. “Go inside and ask Eliza to get you a pair of grappling shorts from the stock cupboard.”

“No, thank you,” Alana growls. “I’ll buy him shorts myself. We’ll come back once we’ve done that.”

“I’m not offering you charity.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder and wait for the boy to stumble back toward the gym door. “You’ll pay for the shorts.” I keep my words low, harsh, knowing they’re for Alana only, though her eyes remain on his back and linger for a full minute after he’s gone. “I’ll have Eliza add the cost to your account. There are no handouts at this gym.”

She drags her gaze from the door, but only to send themupto the signage that spans the entire length of the building. “Love and War.” She reads each word slowly, pained with every syllable that crosses her lips. “You called it Love and War?”

“All’s fair.” I wipe my face again because my blood still runs hot, and the sun pelts down against my sizzling skin. “Locals mostly call it the war room, though. Ollie came up with it ‘cos his daddy’s a cop.”

Her breathing is choppy. Staggered and shallow. But slowly, she brings her eyes to mine. “Ollie?”

“Darling. He was a couple of grades above us in school. I know it’s been a minute since you were last here, but I bet if you tried, you’d remember him. He was a friend to you, even back then.”

“I remember him.” She keeps a tight hold on her temper. Fiery eyes and a clenched jaw. “Why’d you name it Love and War?”

“Why not?” I drink a little more water before I sweat everything out and risk dehydration. “Spent my whole life in one or the other. Sometimes, both at the same time.” I take a step back. Though, fuck, I don’t go far. I can’t, even if I tried. “You coming in out of the heat?”

“Do I have to?” She clings to her car door like she’s afraid the car will roll away without her. “Is it customary for parents to stay while their kids train?”

“Yes. In fact, it’s in the rules when you join the gym. Something about liabilities and whatnot.” Orlie-abilities. But hell, I haven’t owed her a damn thing, least of all the truth, in ten long years. “Heard you’re working over atBooks Books Booksnow?”

She drops her gaze and exhales a huffy, chest-shrinking breath. But she closes her car door, at least. One step closer tonotrunning away. “I forgot how ridiculously quick the gossip vines work around here.”

“New York City is all about anonymity, I suppose. There are so many folks out there it would be impossible to be in anyone else’s business except those in your immediate vicinity. Plainview’s all about knowing everyone’s everything. It’s a hobby in a town where there’s nothing else to do.”

“I didn’t miss it.” She clasps her hands together and watches her feet. But at least she slowly starts toward the door. “You and Eliza Darling, huh? That’s… cute.”

I glance across and feel, for the first time in as long as I can remember, happiness beat through my chest. Humor, even. Deliria, most likely. “Eliza Darling is a child. It could be the time away makes it easier for you to see a grown woman. But I never left, which means when I look at her, I’m still looking at a twelve-year-old. Putting her in the cage against another grown-ass woman and hoping she doesn’t die—well, that’s different. But in all other facets of life?” I drag the gym door open and gesture for her to go first.

To be a gentleman, I wonder, or to see if her shirt rides up and shows off the ink on her back?

Definitely the second.

Unlucky for me, she’s not wearing a sleep camisole anymore, and the top she chose forBooks Books Booksis entirely professional and appropriately fitted.

“Chris suggested we discuss a truce.” She slows her steps and peeks back, shyly searching my eyes as I release the door and meander closer. “He came by the bookstore earlier and said some stuff.”

“Yeah?” The mere talent it takes toactcasually, evenwhile my heart burns and my stomach turns to acid, is, in my humble opinion, better than anyone who ever received an award at the academy shows. “Chris always did find time to hang out with you, even while I was busy elsewhere. You were like siblings, so if I wasn’t available, he still came to you and felt at peace. You never seemed like you minded.”

“I didn’t mind.” She comes to a screeching stop and looks up when Oliver Darling strides out of the hall. Her cheeks pale, and her eyes shimmer.

But when he skids to a standstill and looks from her, to me, to her again, I get the distinct feeling he was coming to find me anyway. To warn me she might be near.

“Oliver…” Alana’s voice cracks. But she doesn’t dare step forward. Nor back. She doesn’t go in for a hug, though ten years ago, she would have. Fuck, we spent our whole lives growing up in this shithole town, running around wild and getting into stupid situations our parents would’ve belted us for. All of us.

Me and Alana, Chris, Ollie, and his sisters. We were a group of heathens who lacked fear and possessed barely an ounce of common sense between the lot of us. But when Alana Page snuck out of town without a single word of warning, what was once a rat pack of unbreakable bonds became… broken.

Just, broken.

“Alana.” He scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tic he’s had since boyhood. “I, uh…” He looks at me again.What the fuck do you want me to do, Boss?

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