by Emilia Finn
“But you’ll allow me to spend this week the way I want to. Because you know I’ll be smart about it. You know I won’t mess it up.”
“You’re willingly courting heartache,” he groans. “I see you eagerly walking toward pain. And you’re asking me to not intervene.”
“You’re in charge of keeping me safe from bad people.” I pull back and study his eyes. “Drug dealers, guys with guns, people who wanna separate us.” I smile. “But my heart is mine to use however I want. And I think, for this week at least, I’m gonna give it to someone else for safekeeping. We’ll see what he does with it.”
“Ugh,” he grunts with exasperation. “I want you to remember this conversation a week from now, when we’re back home and you’re crying because it hurts.” He shakes his head. “I want you to remember I tried to stop this pain before it began. Then I’m gonna say I told you so. I’ll probably even do the neener-neener thing, just to rub it in.”
“No you won’t.” I step away from my big brother and make my way to the ratty couch. Snagging a pillow and the blanket we already freed from the closet, I sit on the edge and meet Will’s eyes. “You’ll hug me, and hold me together when I’m certain I can’t stand the pain any longer. You’ll tell me you’re sorry it hurts. And you’ll tell me you love me, and that no, I’m not stupid for giving a boy my heart when I knew it wouldn’t last.”
“That’s probably exactly how it’ll go down,” he huffs. “We’ll spend money we don’t have on the expensive brand of hot chocolate. We’ll buy marshmallows, since I know you like them. Then we’ll have to watch chick flicks until you feel better.”
“But you’ll ride that rollercoaster with me. And you’ll know that, although we both hate Jamie Kincaid in that moment, you’ll be glad for the week leading up to that, because I was happy.”
“Fuck.” He snags the remote and flicks the television on, then he flips the lights out and drops onto his bed. “You’re gonna make me let you hurt yourself. Then you’re gonna make me hug you until it’s better, and I can’t even do the ‘I told you so’ thing.”
I lay back on the couch and pull my blanket up. “Sounds about right. Goodnight, Will.”
“Night, Bubbles.” He turns over in bed and grunts as he makes himself comfortable. “I love you so much that it annoys me.”
I snuggle into my pillow and close my eyes. “Back atcha.”
Jamie
Bubble Butt
I should be running. I should be training. I should be eating the high protein, high carb diet that my mom shouted at me about, since it’s fight week in the lead-up to my debut fight in a pro circuit. But instead, I climb out of my car the next morning with a tray of to-go coffees, and paper bags filled to the brim with fatty goodness not at all fit for a pro fighter.
I kick my door closed, huff at the cold biting at my fingertips and the end of my nose, then I pull a beanie lower over my head and move toward the stairs that lead up to Cam’s room.
Both levels of this hotel are filled to capacity. For one week a year, this hotel that usually charges by the hour is filled with guests that prepay for a whole week well in advance. Many of the rooms now stand empty, its occupants running their five miles, warming up ahead of a massive week of training. But here I am, stomping up the steps and kicking the snow from my boots as I move.
I pass the Bakers’ room, but they’re not here. I pass other empty rooms, windows open despite the cold, with freezing air wafting through, likely to combat the stench of cigarettes and stale sex. They’d rather come home to cold than to filth.
I slow at Miles Walker’s room – a guy I know only because of my cousin’s interest in his fighting abilities — and smile when the door creaks open and a little girl looks up and studies me. She’s the reason he can’t be out running like everyone else. She’s the reason for everything, as far as he’s concerned.
Despite the small space in the room Miles can train in, he now stands at the doorway behind his daughter, with a sheen of sweat coating his chest and face. And behind him, a set of dumbbells.
“Checkin’ up on your fighters, boss?”
“Nope. Just passing through. I had a feeling you’d be here.” I juggle my bags, and tug a coffee from the tray. Offering it, I hold it in the space between us for a whole minute while Miles stares. “For you.”
“For me?”
He doesn’t take it.
“Yeah. Word travels fast around my family. Smalls likes you for a fighter. We all saw you last year. We saw the respect you showed Mac after your fight, which means you don’t have enemies in our family.”
“So you bought me a coffee?”
And still, he doesn’t take it.
“I was buying coffee anyway. I was coming here anyway. I ordered one more, assuming you’d be here. But don’t let me force you.” I turn away from him, and set the cup on the narrow handrailing that overlooks the parking lot. “If you want it, it’s yours, free and clear. If you don’t, then it was four bucks I won’t cry over.” I look to his little girl and wink, because she’s cute as hell and steals hearts simply by existing, then I continue moving toward Cam’s door.
The sun has barely come up, the snow is stuck to the ground, which means there are hundreds of fighters in town today, slipping in the ice and fumbling their way around a town they don’t know.
I say nothing when I catch a glimpse of Miles snagging the coffee behind me. I don’t show any indication I notice him at all, but the way he swipes it and drags his daughter back into their room means I stop in front of Cam’s door with a wide smile.
Juggling my bags again, I knock just once. One fast rap, then I stand back and fight my grin so I don’t look like a total idiot when the door swings open and Cam jolts in place.
“Oh!” She bounces back when I’m clearly not who she was expecting. “Wow. Okay. You’re here.”
“Expecting someone else?”
I let my eyes wander her long, lean body. Her tight jeans, ankle-high boots, striped sweater, and the way her hair, wet from the shower, dangles over her shoulder. Her eyes are bright this morning, shining and happy.
“Um… sort of. Not exactly,” she rushes out when my eyes narrow. “I thought I heard Miles.”
“You were hoping he was knocking on your door?” I take a step back, and reconsider that coffee I just paid for. “You have a thing for single dads?”
“Ha. No.” She brings a hand up and pats her blushing cheek. “I have a thing for his little girl, though. I thought I heard him, so I assumed Lyss had come to visit. Uh…” She stops after a moment, and looks me up and down the way I studied her. “What are you doing here?”
“You invited me to breakfast.” I shake the bag, and smile when her eyes widen at the bakery logo on the outside. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Well, I, uh…”
“Cameron!” Will’s voice booms through the room and makes her jump. “Close the door. It’s freezing out there.”
“Um…” She glances over her shoulder. Then back to me. “We have a visitor.”
“I know,” he grumbles. “I can hear him.”
Will stomps across the small room, stops in the doorway and studies me from top to toe. Then he snaps up the tray of coffee and the bag of bakery goods. “Thanks, now fuck off.”
He yanks his sister back in, flips me off, and slams the door so hard that the walls shake.
“Will!” Cameron laughs. She laughs! But then the door creeps open again, and she extends a hand. “Come on in.”
“Cameron Quinn,” Will scolds.
I step into the room to find him sitting on the end of the made bed with the bakery bag torn open, and a coffee already clutched in his hand.
“No boys inside your bedroom. Ever. Hard rule.”
“You’re here.” She rolls her eyes. “I think we’re okay.” Then she looks to me. “Breakfast?”
“Mmhm. I got a bunch of stuff, so I figure you’ll find something in the pile you like.”
I follow
her to the rickety table, and though she pulls a chair out for me to sit, I switch us around and push her down until her face warms and her teeth tug on her bottom lip.
It’s a nervous tic. A habit I’m not sure she knows about.
When she’s down and releases my hand, I move to the other side and sit down in the second and last chair.
“You not working out this morning?” I ask Will. “Kinda surprised.”
“Yeah?” He turns to me with a half-eaten croissant in his hand. “You know what I’m not surprised about? You. Being here.” He looks to Cam. “And this is why I didn’t run this morning.”
“Showoff.” She rolls her eyes and grins when they meet mine. “He called it. He said you’d be by.”
“You didn’t think I would be?”
When no one makes a move to offer me anything to eat, I stand again, and walk to the bed where Will has it laid out. I snag two coffees, drop them on the table for me and Cam. Then I grab two croissants stuffed with ham and cheese.
Walking back and stopping in front of her, I study her eyes. Her perfect skin, despite the seeming lack of makeup. Her frizzing hair that she’ll have smooth and perfect after only a minute in the bathroom. “For you.”
Cam seems shier today. Quieter. Though I guess it’s possible she’s just not a morning person. “I didn’t think you’d be here for breakfast.” She brings her food forward and nibbles. “I mean, we all know you’re kinda forward and hard of hearing. But I didn’t think you’d be quite so literal. You don’t care about your fight at all this week?”
I shrug and sit back in my chair. In my heavy coat, boots, jeans, and a beanie, I’m toasty warm in this small room with two other people and a hot coffee in my hands. “I don’t much care. If I win, I win. If I lose,” I shrug. “It makes the tournament more legit if not all of the final winners have Kincaid for a last name.”
“Iowa’s gonna win, no?” Will turns and lifts a brow. “Middleweight men’s division. That’s you, right?”
I take a long sip and smile at the caffeine that rolls down my throat. “That’s me.”
“Iowa’s a middleweight,” Will prods. “Right?”
“You and I both know you know the answer to that.”
“And you’re not even a little bit concerned?” His grin creeps up. “I know who I’m putting my money on.”
He’s trying to goad me, since we all know they have a kind of alliance going already. But I only shrug. “I’m comfortable in my own skin. Like I said, if I lose, I lose. I wanna win just so I can have the belt and show it off. But there are folks here who need to win to make rent. I’m not much fussed with taking someone else’s rent money.”
“Rich boy doesn’t have those problems, huh?”
“Will…” Cam growls. “Relax.” Then she turns to me. “So, what are you doing today, if not training?”
“I was hoping you’d trust me to drive you somewhere.” I look to Will, since it’s his permission I need. That’s not to say she doesn’t get a say. But I know these two well enough now to know that she cares about what he thinks. She defies him, she argues with him, she teases him. But she respects him more than anyone else on this planet. “No hotdogging. I just wanna show her somewhere special.”
“And you have to drive there?”
“Well…” I shake my head. “No. We could walk. It’s not so far.”
He looks to Cam. “You cannot leave the town limits. I’m not playing about that. Not being overprotective and obnoxious. I’m saying I want you in this town every moment of today.”
“Okay.” Quietly, she sets her coffee down and stares into his eyes. “You know how to find me. And I’ll check in.”
He looks to me. “If you try to undo a single zipper – yours or hers – I’ll rip your face off and sew it on a stray dog to wear around town.”
“Not creepy at all.” I laugh. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll keep her out of prison.”
Will’s face turns white. Terrified and unnerving. “Bubbles…”
“It’s gonna be okay, Will.” She shoves the last of her croissant into her mouth, chews it like a cow, and stands from her chair to cross over to her brother. “I’ll be around.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head. “But I already told you last night how this is gonna go.”
“I could save you a lot of trouble and ground you right now.” He looks up into her eyes. Hopeful. “I could save you the tears.”
“But the journey…” Smiling, she drops her hand into his short hair and roughs it up so it points in a million directions, then she turns to me and snags her coffee. “Let’s go.”
My eyes widen. “Now?”
“Uh huh. One time offer, or I’m going to the gym to watch all the hot guys train for the tournament.”
“Nope.” I bound up from my chair and slam half a croissant into my mouth in one go. Pastry flutters to the floor, and ham cuts off my airways, but I grab my coffee anyway, and dig a hand deep into my pocket in search of keys. “I’m ready.”
“Daylight, Cameron.” Will looks deep into her eyes, and demands, “Daylight. Once the streetlights come on, I’m going hunting.”
“You’re dramatic,” she huffs. “I’ll text you in a bit.” Turning to me, she takes my hand and leads us to the door. “Bye, Will.”
“Bye, Bubbles. Be good.”
“Always.” She opens the door, and hisses at the blast of cold air that races in. “Shit,” she groans. “I forgot it’s cold as balls out here.” She reaches up to her hair. “Still wet.”
“Here.” I tug the beanie from my head while she pulls her door shut, set my coffee on the handrail to my right, then I stand in front of Cam and slide the beanie down over her hair until the bottom rests over her brows and ears. My head is bigger than hers, longer, so the fabric stretches lower and covers her ears. But the black, so close to her eyes, makes the blue pop so much brighter. “You’re so fucking pretty, Cam. It shouldn’t be allowed.”
“Smooth.” Reaching up, she fixes the hat and glances away so she doesn’t have to meet my gaze. “You have all the smooth lines, Lothario. Oh, that reminds me.” She takes my hand and begins walking toward the steps at the end. “What happened to Taylor?”
Miles’ door opens ahead of us. With his coffee in hand and his still-sweaty hair, he leans in the doorway and cracks his neck. “Cameron.”
“Miles Walker.” Cam smiles for her friend, she tickles under Alyssa’s chin until the girl squeals, then she continues on. No fear for these fighter protectors of hers. No worries that they’re all physically stronger and more able to take her down. “Jamie?”
I bring my gaze away from Miles and back to her. “Hm?”
“Taylor with the good hair. She was your girlfriend. Did she dump your ass for kissing girls other than her?”
“She was not my girlfriend.” I lead her down the stairs and into the biting wind until Cam’s dark locks whip back and make her shiver. “She was a girl that I used to kiss,” I explain. “She was also a girl that was a little slow on the uptake, and though I was not interested in a relationship, she…” I snort. “Was.”
“You poor, unfortunate soul. It must be so wearying when all of the women fall to their knees for you.”
“There’s only one I want.” I squeeze her closer and stop at the passenger side of my car. “And she isn’t falling yet.”
Laughing, Cam only shakes her head and opens the car door. “Don’t hold your breath, okay? I’d hate for you to die before coming to realize how proud and stubborn I am.” Reaching up, she flattens my hair, messy from the loss of my beanie. “I can never decide if I wanna braid your hair, or run my fingers through it.”
I grab her arm, set my coffee on the roof of the car, and wrap both of my hands around her delicate wrist until her eyes snap back to mine. “You could do either. Or both. Because for as long as you’re close enough to touch my hair, I’m close enough to look into your eyes.” I bring her arm forward, and press a gentle kiss to the almost translucent ski
n on her wrist. “And for as long as you’re close enough for that, I don’t need anything else.”
“Jesus, you’re smooth,” she croaks. “You make it easy, you know?”
I tilt my head to the side with curiosity. “Make what easy?”
“Falling in love.” She leans closer when my breath catches. “When a girl gives herself permission to fall without fear, without worrying about tomorrow, then it becomes really easy if the man trying to convince her to love him is this smooth. It’s about as natural as breathing.”
“Wait.” My eyes flicker between hers. “You love me?”
She snickers and shakes her head. “I don’t even know you, Jamie Kincaid. So whatever it is you make me feel, it’ll be as fleeting as this week. But what I’m saying is that, whatever happens this week, I’m doing it without fear. And since you’re so smooth…”
I grin. “It’ll be easy.”
“Exactly.”
Standing on her toes, she reaches up with one hand and holds onto the lapels of my coat. When my hands go to her hips, her lips meet mine and steal another piece of my soul. She’s not sorry for how she beguiles me. She’s not sorry that she creates this magic that is as potent as a drug. As addictive, as deadly, if I’m not careful.
“Cameron. Effing. Quinn!”
Cam’s lips leave mine with a pop, only for her to remain on her toes and turn her head to find Will standing with a cute kid by his leg.
“I can’t say the other word,” he growls, “but you know I meant it. Stop kissing him!”
“Stop watching me kiss him!”
“I can’t not watch. I’m trying to make sure you’re not a statistic!”
“A statistic?” I question.
“He figures I’ll probably get pregnant by looking at a boy,” she explains. “And god forbid I do anything unscripted.”
“Don’t sass me, young lady!”
“Yeah, don’t sass him!” Miles joins in. “Seventeen-year-olds can’t make good choices. It’s literally impossible.”
“Well, I’m eighteen,” she shoots back, “So you can cool your jets and take care of your own statistic.”