Page 28 of Stick Fight

Much.

The patio door slides open and Gabby walks back inside, running her fingers through her wind-blown hair. I glance at her and arch a curious brow.

“My parents really are the best. I’m so lucky, Roman,” she says, a smile on her face when she comes back and I stand, putting my hands on her shoulders. Honestly, I love that for her, and wish to hell I could say the same. Although to the world, and most likely to Gabs, mine are the most amazing, philanthropic, parents in the world. My brother Nolan and I however, we have a different story. One we’ve never told anyone, and never will.

“What did they say?” My gaze sweeps over her face, and she does look so much more relaxed today, despite the fact that she’s leaving her world behind and coming to Boston with me.

“They said they were there for me if I needed anything.”

“Gabs,” I say quietly, my heart beating a bit fast. I brush her hair over her shoulder and when I expose the long column of her neck, my dick twitches. “Their support must mean everything to you.” My parents support me too. Hell, I wouldn’t be where I am without them, and they do love me. It’s just that they never made growing up easy. When we were little, I can’t even recall how many times my younger brother crawled into my bed, frightened by all the yelling. My whole life I tried to be a good brother, a good role model for him, and my biggest teaching is to never get married.

She exhales. “It does.” Catching me by surprise, she goes up on her toes and kisses me. “So does yours, Roman.” I stand still, my heart now in my throat as her dark lashes fall over blue eyes. “I can’t believe I’m moving to Boston.”

“Have you ever been?”

“Yes, for shopping, but I’ve never really spent any time there.” Her phone rings, and she glances at it. “I need to answer him.”

“I’ll leave you.”

She grabs me, her fingers curling in my shirt. Her voice is tight, a desperate plea when she says, “Can you stay, please?”

“Yeah, babe. Of course. Whatever you need.” She exhales and the look of gratitude she gives me messes me up a little. She takes a big fueling breath, her fingers curling around her phone, and I suggest, “Maybe it would be easier to text.”

“It would,” she agrees. “While I don’t owe him anything after what he did, I owe it to myself to be a decent human.”

I swallow. Jesus, she’s such a good person. “I can understand that.”

“Wait, you were on the phone. Do you have somewhere to be? You don’t have to babysit me. I can make this call alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to sit right there.” I point to the sofa and see my phone. “I was just messaging with my brother, asking if we can postpone his visit. He was supposed to come later this month.”

“Roman, no. I don’t want to mess up your life or your plans.”

“He can come another time. All he does is eat my food and steal my bunnies.”

Her brow pulls together. “Bunnies?”

Ah, shit. Why the hell would I say that?

Oh, because you chase bunnies, dude.

“Roman,” she begins, and I hold up my hand.

“My place is your place, Gabs. No bunny zone, okay?”

“But. I don’t?—”

“You’re not.”

“If I get in the way?—”

“You won’t.” She glances down and I put my finger under her chin and lift it. “I mean it.”

She gives a tight nod. “Okay.” Holding her phone up she says, “Here goes nothing.”

8

Gabby

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