Jesse came home near the end of the show. My stepdad and I didn’t have much of a relationship. We’d had to be around each other for a handful of years, and we were civil, but he’d always made it clear he already had kids, and I wasn’t included in that. In an effort to keep what goodwill we had going, I asked him how work was. He replied with his usual about how the people who did the hardest work never got paid enough while the people who sat around made all the money. Then he complained about my mom sitting around and the amount of junk she ordered online. As much as I could add to that conversation, I never did. They both talked about how horrible the other one was, and I’d wondered more than once why they even stayed married.
Was it selfish that I wanted them to stick it out, simply because otherwise my mom would guilt me into more than she already did by adding that she was lonely, something I often understood all too well?
By the time I made it to the venue where the fights were going down, my optimism—my spirit in general—was limp and crumpled.
As soon as I stepped into the back office where Brooklyn had instructed me to meet her, she shoved the typical ring girl outfit in my direction. One of the usuals had broken her ankle, and Brooklyn had been tasked with finding a replacement. Somehow that ended up being me. The idea was to kill two birds with one stone. With me doing the honors, Brooklyn didn’t need to keep searching for a sub, and as well as showing Liam what he was missing, it would make it clear that plenty of guys would line up for a shot with me if he didn’t. That was the theory, anyway, one I was currently rethinking.
“What if I trip?” I asked as I ran my fingers across the stretchy fabric, my nerves overtaking my body until they made up more of me than my skin and bones did.
“Slow steps,” Brooklyn instructed in a calm, placating voice. “Just hold up the sign and smile.”
“And what if I’ve changed my mind?”
She lowered the black-and-red getup, her face peeking out over the top. “Then you are totally free to do that. I guess…that probably meansI’llbe going out there. Luckily I had doughnuts and didn’t bother shaving today.”
I laughed and shakily took the hanger from her hand, not wanting her to have to resort to that while being grateful that she would without giving me grief for backing out—it was nice to have people in my life who didn’t always revert to guilt trips. My nerves stretched and frayed, and I was pretty sure I was about to throw up everything I’d eaten today. “It’s definitely bold.”
“It definitely is.”
I ducked into the bathroom, then came out and tugged at what little fabric there was to tug at. “Are you sure I can pull off this outfit? There’s bold, and then there’s making a fool of myself.”
A giant smile spread across Brooklyn’s face as she gave me a thorough once-over. “You look smoking hot, and you beyond pull it off.” When I continued to fidget, she put her hands on my shoulders and locked eyes with me. “I swear on Chris Evans’s beard.”
An overly dramatic gasp came out. “The most sacred of vows.” I swept my hair behind my shoulders, then forward, then back again. “The things I do for your brother. Either way, he’s probably going to kill us both for this.”
Brooklyn nodded. “Oh, for sure. You wrote up your will before you came, right?”
I laughed. “Yes. I don’t have any money, but I made sure to leave George to Liam.”
Brooklyn snorted a laugh, and then we both laughed again. Already I felt lighter. I could do this. If nothing else, I could always say that for one professional MMA fight, I was a ring girl.
As I reached for the handle of the door that’d take us down a hallway and out into the crowd—one that would be bigger than normal if my marketing help had actually helped—the laughter and lightness evaporated. My anxiety grew and grew, until it became so powerful that everything I did seemed as if someone else was doing it.
Someone wearing my body walked out and sat at the front of the crowd in nothing but the booty shorts and bikini-type top.
When one of the venue organizers handed her a large number that signified Round One, she took it, strolled across the front of the cage, and shot the audience a smile. The whistles left her smiling wider, her confidence buoying up and soaking into the real me.
But when my eyes met the familiar blue irises of one of the coaches standing in the corner, whoever had been temporarily in charge of my body fled—that scaredy-cat—and then it was all me, all alone.
There was undeniable heat in those eyes, only I couldn’t tell which kind. Anger was definitely in the mix, but was there a spark of want in there, too? Maybe even a predatory edge to the way his eyes narrowed on me?
Regardless of whatever it technically was or wasn’t, it sent a flash of red-hot need through my body, strong enough for me to know, without a doubt, that I wanted Liam Roth in every. Possible. Way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Liam
What. The. Fuck?
I was going to kill someone. Right after I stopped staring at Chelsea in those blessedly tiny shorts. The urge to run out there and claim her in front of everyone barreled into me, even as I also wanted to yell at her for being out there in the first place.
Was she trying to give me a heart attack?
My eyes locked on to hers, and fire seared through my veins. Lust and desire, and a healthy dose of jealousy that anyone else was looking at her clashed through my system.
My throat went dry and an eternity passed, electricity crackling and popping in the air between us.
Then she winked at me.