Mateo’s tears have dried, but his body language is still heavy. It feels like the obvious thing to ask him what happened, but I take Brooklyn’s no pressure lead.
“My dad locked me out of the house. He says I can’t go back unless I bring food.”
Brooklyn meets my eyes again over his head, outrage all over her face.
“Has he been doing drugs again?” I ask. Mateo is shy about details, but he’s forthcoming with yes or no questions. He nods.
“Let’s give him some time to get himself together,” I say. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No!” He looks terrified. I would have reacted the same way as a kid. I never know what to do with this type of thing. I can give him food to take home, which is something I want to do anyway, but I don’t want to reinforce this kind of behavior from his father. Calling the police or social services never goes anywhere. I’ve tried. What I really want is to pluck Mateo right out of that awful home, but that’s probably kidnapping.
“All right, just for you.” Brooklyn sets down a big plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of him, and his eyes light up.
“Chocolate chip?”
“Yep.”
He attacks the pancakes while Brooklyn sets a plate in front of me and winks. Mine are topped with strawberries and bananas.
“Dang, Brooklyn,” I say. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
She laughs. “Calm down, they’re just pancakes.”
“Thank you, Brooklyn,” Mateo says.
“Any time, bud. So, we going to do another private lesson on the mat after breakfast?” she asks him. “I think it’s time you add a baseball choke to your arsenal.”
“Really? You mean it?”
“Yes, sir.”
They chatter away about submissions, upcoming fights, Mateo’s friends and enemies, and suddenly it’s all so beautiful. Mateo and Brooklyn giggling over pancakes in my home feels so right, so perfect it can’t even be real. The feeling of home is one I’ve never identified with. Having it surge through me now takes me off guard. No amount of training, no number of wins has ever made me feel safe like this. No amount of independence feels as good as trust. But then, it isn’t real. Soon Brooklyn will have to pretend I’m nothing to her again, and Mateo will have to go back to a home he isn’t sure he’ll be able to get into. Is it all a delusion to think it will ever be different?
Chapter Twenty-three
Brooklyn and I drop Mateo off back at home together and carry a full load of groceries to his apartment. I want the opportunity to get some kind of feel for the situation, but no one’s home anymore. Mateo gets in by removing the window screen and prying the window open. The home is trashed. It looks like a WWE fight took place in the living room.
“You going to be okay?” I ask. What a dumb question. How do I expect him to answer that? But he promises he will be. I give him a hug and assure him he can come back to the gym anytime he wants to. Brooklyn hugs him too before we go. When we’re back in her Escalade, we just sit for a minute.
“Is it wrong to just take him back to that?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, but we sent him back better off than we found him.”
“Doesn’t feel like enough.”
She grabs my hand. “He doesn’t seem afraid, and he knows he can come to you. He’ll be okay.”
I nod. “Well, you want to go get in some training?”
“Just one stop first.” She pulls out and starts down a series of side roads until she pulls into a giant vacant parking lot behind a shut down grocery store.
“What’re we doing here?” I ask.
She takes off her seat belt and leans toward me, wrapping her hand around the back of my neck and kissing me, her lips parted. She has a way of kissing me when I don’t know it’s coming that sends me tumbling through space. Her hands move over me with such hunger I want to give her everything, whatever she wants.
“Oh, I see,” I whisper as I kiss her back.
“Théo’s coming to training. I don’t think I can behave around you unless I fuck you now.”
“Mm, I’m warning you, it’ll make it worse, thinking about how hard I just made you come.”
“Go ahead and torture me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I take off my seat belt and climb on top of her, straddling her in the driver’s seat. She runs her hands up my thighs and pulls my hips against her tightly. My pulse picks up in a rush. I reach down to control her seat and lean her backwards a bit as I grind against her. She closes her eyes, gripping my hips and just letting me move on top of her.
Watching pleasure pass through her face makes my whole body light up, and my brain flips into a primal space. I ride her, losing myself and becoming wilder the longer I do it, the more she submits to me. Then her hands are moving again. She slips under my shirt and squeezes my nipples hard, riding the line between pleasure and pain expertly, and then she’s unbuttoning my pants. I plunge my fingers into her thick curls and pull her head back, pinning her to the seat as her fingers brush over my clit. She looks in my eyes, letting me see all her lust and need, her brow creased and her lips parted as she breathes in ragged surges. I kiss her with all of me, crashing against her body and exploring her mouth with reckless heat until a gentle moan vibrates from her chest against mine. She slides her fingers inside me in a long, steady motion that sucks the strength out of me.
Her other hand moves to the back of my neck, and she tightens the grip to make me look in her eyes as she pushes into me again and pulls an unrestricted moan from me. I ride Brooklyn hard, fucking her fingers as I hold her to the back of the seat with one hand pressed into her chest and the other on her side like she may try to escape. She takes the pressure, tension and pleasure building and collecting in her face as she bites her lip.
“Yes, baby. I’m yours,” she says. “Use me.” And I do. I grab her hair, pull her shirt, sink my weight into her, and I’m hovering on the edge of orgasm.
“Fuck, Brooklyn. I’m going to come.”
She sits up a little straighter so she can bite my neck, just hard enough to cross into pain without it becoming overwhelming. It sends a jolt of sensation through me, flooding me with chemicals that make me weak and energized at once. Her hand wraps around my throat and squeezes, gently at first until I react with a moan that rumbles against her hand, and she tightens her grip as I ride her harder.
“Come for me, baby.”
I never expected I could in this position in an uncomfortable car in a parking lot, but when she squeezes my throat and sinks her fingers deep inside me, I come so hard it’s fucking blinding. My hands tighten into fists as I bunch her shirt up until there’s no extra fabric and the grip lends me complete control of her. I yank her closer violently as my body floods with pulsing ecstasy. When it subsides, she slowly removes her fingers and wraps her arms around me, holding me to her chest. I soak in her warm scent as her chest rises, floating me on the swell of her breath.
I kiss her gently, running my tongue across her lower lip on the edge of the kiss until she’s leaning forward, chasing for more. Then I climb into the back and fold down the seats before leaning close to her ear.
“Get back here and take your clothes off.”
Brooklyn smiles and looks out the window before she turns and climbs back. There’s no one around, and even if there was, her windows are too dark to see through. Even the spacious Escalade feels very much like a car. Part of me can’t believe the fooling around in parking lots part of my life isn’t over, but the other part doesn’t give a single flying fuck where we are as long as I’m with her.
Brooklyn’s deep brown eyes lock on mine as she slowly pulls her shirt up and off, followed by her bra, obeying my command. We’re on our knees with the warm skin of our stomachs touching. I loop my arms around her lower back and kiss her, our lips sure and soft and wet. She leans into me in the rhythm of our kiss, so subtle I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it. I slip my tongue into her mouth, slow and rhy
thmic too, pulling away, then falling into it.
I lower her to her back and pull off her pants, caressing her over her underwear so lightly she squirms beneath me. I don’t actually know, but I can’t imagine Brooklyn often gives up the reins this way, and having her trust like this makes me want to make her come harder than she ever has in her life. I tease her relentlessly, running my lips and tongue over the sensitive skin of her collarbone, her breasts, her hips, working my way down to her thighs, touching her with pressure light enough to always feel her rising into me for just a little more, then holding her down when she tries to rush.
“Fuck, Eden. I want you so bad.” She’s breathless. “I’m so ready for you.”
I kiss between her hips, pressing my chest down against her center, letting her rise into me just enough she doesn’t completely lose it. Then I feel her fingers in my hair, her palm against my cheek. I take her hand and nibble her fingertip, touching it with my tongue before I suck her finger. She trembles and whimpers. I trace my hands up her body and play with her nipples as she writhes beneath me. I can tell she could come like this if I keep it up, but I can’t bear not to fuck her, so I finally push my fingers inside her, slow and deep. Her head falls back as she moans, loud. The sound travels through my skin to my core.
“Jesus Christ, Eden,” she says as her hand balls into a tight grip in my hair. I move down and suck her clit as I fuck her and she cries out in pleasure, her nails digging into my back now. It doesn’t take long before her whole body is tightening around me so hard it hurts, her nails dragging up my back. She holds me against her hard as she comes. I can feel her clit pulsing against my tongue and her pussy tightening around my fingers as she moans with each wave of her climax.
She’s still breathing hard after her body finally relaxes, and I feel stupefied by the beauty of her glistening skin, the flawlessness of her body, and the power of the fact that she lets me touch her this way. I trace my fingers over her body, following every curve and valley. We lie there for the most perfect minutes of my life, and then she rolls onto her side and kisses me.
Tears inexplicably stab at my throat as we just look at one another. The realization materializes from nothing, the words blaring into my mind followed by a calm sense of truth. I am completely in love with Brooklyn.
“You okay?” she asks.
I smile and touch her face. “Yes.” She’s not ready to hear it, and I’m not ready to say it. I kiss her and break the spell. “I guess we better get to the gym.”
She laughs. “You were right. It’s going to be painful not to touch you.”
“Tell me about it.” I wink, and we climb back into the front seat as Brooklyn pulls her clothes back on. Brooklyn pulls onto the street and starts toward the gym.
“Maybe Théo will take the night off.”
“Yeah, right,” I say. “Don’t count on it.”
“I know,” she says. “He loves being up my ass making sure I’m working.”
“You really don’t think you could tell Théo at least? You two are so close.”
She looks over, a little stiff, then sighs. “You don’t understand, Eden. I don’t even want to explain to you how anti-gay they are.”
“They all know I’m gay and act normal. I don’t think they’re as far gone as you think.”
“That’s just how important winning is to them. You win. And you helped me win. And they do like you, but they also think you’re going to hell.”
“Seriously? This is all a religious thing?” I know the Shaws are devout, Brooklyn included, but it doesn’t seem to trouble her, so I didn’t think that was the source of their hang-up.
“There’s a healthy dose of just thinking it’s gross, but yes, it’s also religious.”
I glance at the tattoo on her right shoulder, a portrait of Mary, and the cross on her left forearm. “Is that a problem for you?”
“I’ve made my peace with it. I could never convince them though.”
“But maybe you could, Brooklyn.”
She shakes her head. “Look, I know they’re nice to you, and that’s confusing, but they can tell themselves you’re not their business. If it was me, the fucking sky would fall. I’d never see or talk to them again. They can never know, Eden. I thought you understood that.”
I nod and drop it before I push her too far. I knew this was going to be hard, but I haven’t accepted that it could be forever.
When we arrive at the gym, we park on the street. There’s the buzz of a gathering by the front.
“What the fuck is this?” Brooklyn asks.
As we walk up, a guy with short spikey black hair comes at us holding out a microphone.
“Brooklyn, when are we going to see you fight again?”
Brooklyn looks thrown as two more people beeline toward us, armed with microphones. “After your last victory, is it safe to say the problem was your brother wasn’t a qualified coach? Can you give us a few words on why Miss Bauer is better?” Shock and anger flash over her face.
I step forward before she clocks the guy. “Théo Shaw is a gifted coach and still part of this team. You guys know better than to just show up here. You know the process to schedule an interview.”
A woman with chestnut hair wearing an awful brown blazer stretches her mic toward me. “Can you confirm rumors that you two have become an item?”
“What?”
“Can you—”
“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I’m afraid to hesitate even a little. I have no idea how Brooklyn will react. The woman holds out a couple of pictures of me and Brooklyn from New Mexico, one of me checking out her cut eyebrow, one of us leaving the club together. They’re fairly tender photos, but not even close to being something you could call evidence.
“There’s been talk,” she goes on, a little sheepishly. “And it looks like you just arrived together.”
Brooklyn starts to walk toward the woman, stiff and ready to rip her a new one. I stretch my arm in front of her as subtly as possible.
“This is a close-knit team,” I say. “We train at least four hours a day plus sauna, ice baths, trail runs, you name it. Of course, we’re together a lot. You print some bullshit clickbait you can forget ever getting an interview again. If you want to do this properly, I suggest you leave now and call to set up an appointment like everyone else.”
I walk past them without waiting for an answer. Brooklyn follows, and I lock the door behind us with them on the other side of the glass looking crestfallen.
“Do not let them in,” I snap as I pass Laila. Brooklyn and I don’t even look at each other until we’re in the training room in back, which only has windows around the top foot of the left wall, a space only meant to light the room that offers no view. I face Brooklyn and find every ounce of panic I expected to see.
“Don’t freak out.”
“How the fuck can I not freak out?” she says. “What does she mean there’s been talk? Who did you tell?”
“She made that up. They’ve got nothing.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if she had something, she would have printed it. She’s fishing.”
“Who knows about us?” Brooklyn asks, not calming down at all.
“No one.”
“Oh, come on, who’d you tell?” Brooklyn’s eyes flash with anger. “One of your buddies sold you out.”
“Brooklyn,” I snap. “No one fucking knows. I haven’t told a soul. I swear.”
“This is too dangerous.” Her hands fly to her head as she paces.
“Brooklyn, I’m out, and you look gay. I’m sorry, but you’re an easy read. They’re just taking a stab that the two lesbians who work together also hook up. Think about it. They’ve asked you shit like this before. You’re just letting this one get in your head because they happen to be right.”
She finally starts to slow down. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say with confidence. “Blow this off like you always do. Don’t act weird or they rea
lly will know.”
“What are those idiots doing here?”
Brooklyn and I each leap about two feet when Théo waltzes into the room.
“Whoa, sorry.” He laughs.
“How did you get in?” I ask.
“Laila. Are you two okay? You look weird.”
“Fine,” Brooklyn says.
He sets down his gym bag and starts fishing through it. “Okay, well, get it together. We’ve got training to do.”
Brooklyn and I hold tenuous eye contact, neither of us ready to stop talking, but shackled.
“Don’t worry.” I answer him, but I’m looking at Brooklyn. “We’re good.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The car jumps forward, then rocks back to a stop. The rumble of the engine feels good to my nerves even though traffic is relentlessly slow. I’m not usually the road rage type, but I’m not quite back to normal after the reporter issue from yesterday, or to put it more directly, Brooklyn’s not back to normal.
Our entire training session was lackluster, her mind clearly gone and mine not much better. Théo wouldn’t so much as go to the bathroom, so we never got to talk it out. Her texts after she left were calm and agreeable, but distant.
“You’re nervous,” Jin says. I glance over and nod. Today is hopefully my last appointment for my neck, a full evaluation on how it’s healed. It’s reason enough to be nervous, but that isn’t it. I force myself to ease up on the aggressive driving.
“Brooklyn will do right by you,” Jin says.
I whip around to stare at him. “What did you say?”
He chuckles and looks out the window before he meets my eyes, still wearing a knowing, affectionate smile.
“How?” I throw my hands up. “How can you possibly know? I just swore up and down no one knows, and here you are, knowing.” The night she came over after his hospital visit flashes through my mind, but it wasn’t so obvious he should be this confident, was it?
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