by Izzy Sweet
I try in vain to look away, to not watch, to focus on something else. I shift in my chair, pick at my nails, and check my email.
I even log into Facebook.
But time after time, I’m drawn back to Emmett. Drawn to him like I’m drowning and he’s my only hope of salvation.
It’s foolish, beyond foolish to get involved with him. Selfish to drag him into my mess. I’d be the biggest bitch if I fucked his life up. Could I live with myself if he ended up collateral damage? After watching him rise up and conquer everything the guys are throwing at him?
After what he did for me?
Probably not, but that selfish part of me doesn’t want me to think about it. Doesn’t want me to worry about what could happen.
She wants me to throw caution to the wind and dive in head first, despite the potential consequences. To take what I want for once in my life.
To live on my terms.
To finally be happy.
The longer I watch him, watch the sweat dripping off his shirtless body, his muscles tightening and flexing with tension. Watch him stare at me with an intense focus, like he’s proving to me in the most primal way possible that he’s the perfect mate, it’s getting harder to ignore her.
Harder not to give into the impulse to run up to him and throw myself at him.
“Earth to Bree!” Avery shouts beside me and I jump about a foot off my seat.
Tipping her head back, Avery laughs as I hit the chair and slap a hand over my chest.
“Shit, you nearly killed me,” I gasp as my heart races.
Dropping her chin, Avery’s eyes sparkle at me as her laughter quiets to a musical giggle. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes, saying your name.”
“What?” I ask dumbly.
There’s no way. She’s probably just messing with me.
“Five minutes,” she repeats, her glossy lips stretching into a grin. “For five minutes I’ve been trying to get your attention.”
My entire face instantly lights up with warmth and I find myself mumbling. “I… I…”
I really have no excuse. Yet again, I was caught staring at Emmett like a teenage girl that can’t help herself.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve always had good self-control.
It must be all the testosterone in the air…
Avery gives me a consoling pat on the shoulder then turns her head to look in Emmett’s direction. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you for being distracted. They’re putting on quite the show.”
I turn my head to follow Avery’s line of sight. The guys have now moved over to the area with all the different types of bags they punch and kick.
“I think they might be trying to kill him,” I mutter quietly as I watch Dale and Chase take turns shouting at Emmett.
For his part, Emmett remains focused on the bag in front of him, his face set hard with concentration.
I can’t believe he hasn’t decked one of them yet.
Avery sighs. “It’s for his own good. He has a big fight coming up and only a short amount of time to prepare for it.”
Standing in front of a heavy bag, Emmett gives it a quick one-two, punching first with his left fist then his right. But when he lifts his leg to deliver a kick, he seems to struggle, obviously flagging.
I’ve been watching him work out for what feels like hours, and I’m surprised he hasn’t just keeled over from exhaustion. I would have been flat on my face after two minutes of what he’s been through.
But do either of the guys give him a break? No. Dale steps right up to Emmett, yelling something about him being an out of shape pussy.
And I find my hands clenching into fists in response. Part of me wants to stomp right over to Dale and punch him in his face to show him who’s the real pussy.
“Yeah, but do they have to be so mean about it?” I find myself growling.
Avery chuckles and gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “If they’re nice and ask politely, he probably wouldn’t push himself past his own limits. If they don’t push him past his limits, he won’t win.”
“I get that,” I admit begrudgingly, “but it still seems like they’re being unnecessarily hard on him. Chase, especially.”
Earlier, it looked like Chase was going to kill Emmett when Emmett was trying to do his pushups. The way he shoved Emmett down… I didn’t think Chase would let him back up.
Now he’s taunting Emmett, smirking as he says something I can’t quite hear but have no doubt is insulting.
Avery is quiet for so long I start to think that she didn’t hear me. Glancing up, though, I see that her mouth is pulled down in a frown and her brow is furrowed with thought.
“Chase is harder on the ones he cares the most about,” she finally says and gives my shoulder another squeeze before pulling away.
I scoff. “So they’re both being dicks because they care about him?”
Her grin returning, she nods her head. “Yep.”
I shake my head in part disgust, part confusion.
Avery laughs at my reaction. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I doubt that,” I grumble before her words really hit home.
Get used to it? What exactly does she mean by that? Get used to the guys abusing Emmett? Or the way they train people in general?
Before I can ask, Avery goes on. “Anyway, I came over here to let you know that you’re free to go to lunch. I’ll watch the desk.”
I’m still tempted to ask her what she meant, to clarify that statement, but as she stares down at me expectantly, I decide I really don’t want to know the answer.
I don’t want to know if everyone else can see what is going on between us. Because if they can, then I’d have to face it.
And if I have to face it, I’ll have to own it. I’ll have to make a more permanent decision.
Grabbing my purse off the floor, I roll my chair back and stand.
Emmett lets out a grunt so loud I can hear it clear across the gym.
Jerking my head in his direction, I watch him shove the heavy bag away from his chest as Dale yells at him.
“Eyes on the bag, lover boy!”
Heat returns to my cheeks as Emmett’s eyes meet mine, tired now but still full of intensity.
Still full of promise.
Just as Dale gives the bag another shove, sending it for Emmett again, I rip my attention away from him.
Emmett let’s out another loud grunt behind me, and knowing I was the cause of that grunt, I can’t run out of the building fast enough.
I’m so stuck in my head, so mentally messed up, I end up driving ten minutes down the street, heading for my stepfather’s house, before I realize I can’t go home yet.
It’s only lunch and I still have half of my shift left.
And fuck me, I don’t know how I’m going to survive it.
How am I going to survive being in the same place as Emmett? Breathing the same air as him?
He hasn’t said a word to me yet, but his presence alone is screwing with my head. After only four hours, I’m struggling. Seriously struggling with a mess of confusing emotions.
Every time I look at him, I can’t help but remember the kiss. Remember how for those few short moments of bliss I finally felt at peace. I finally felt like I had found my place in the world.
And it scares the hell out of me.
It scares me more than my father or Tristan ever have.
He has a pull over me. Some kind of strange, supernatural pull that I don’t understand how to counter yet.
Until I can figure out how to resist him, I need to keep my distance. But how can I do that if he’s in the gym?
The idea of giving Chase my notice is tempting as hell. Especially as it dawns on me that I’ll probably see Emmett every day I work for the rest of the summer as he trains for his upcoming match.
Just the thought of seeing Emmett every day, half-naked, glistening with sweat as he pushes and molds his body into a powerful fighting machine, i
s enough to drive me to the brink of madness. And if he does what he’s been doing today, staring me down like he’s a damn predator and I’m the prey he has his sights on, I might seriously fucking lose it.
Making a U-turn, I head back toward the gym and stop at the first place that looks like it has food. Still toying with the idea of quitting and trying to figure out exactly what to say to Chase so he doesn’t look down on me, I end up ordering two different meals in the drive thru.
Two meals and I have no damn clue what’s even inside them.
By the time I make it back to the gym, I have a huge sack of food and absolutely no desire to eat any of it. There’s a huge ball of anxiety sitting in the pit of my stomach, taking up all the space, as I walk back through the front doors.
Avery waves at me and smiles. I give her a nod and manage to force my own smile before my eyes search the gym, seeking out Emmett.
When I fail to spot him, instead of feeling relieved, I find myself somehow feeling disappointed.
Dammit.
Pulling up my shoulders as soon as I realize they’re slumping, I make way over to the front desk.
Avery eyes the huge plastic bag I’m carrying and her face lights up with amusement. “Hungry?”
The words not really almost pop out of my mouth before I catch myself.
“A little,” I sigh as I plop the bag down on the desk.
Chuckling, Avery stands from the chair. After flipping her long, sleek black hair over her shoulder, she slips on her purse.
“I have to go pick up the girls from Grandma’s and take them to ballet class. I probably won’t be back today, but if you need anything Chase will be here.”
I nod in acknowledgement as she comes around the desk.
I’m just about to head to the chair and sit my butt back down when she suddenly stops beside me.
Turning to me, her face is serious, almost grim, as she says, “Thank you for helping us out, Bree. We sincerely appreciate it.”
My first instinct is to brush it off, to let her know it’s not a big deal. But looking at her face, it’s plain to see that to her it is.
She is truly grateful that I’m helping her by working here.
Knowing that any kind of dismissive response would be insulting, I struggle at first to think up something to say.
Then it comes to me.
Smiling at her, I say, “No thanks needed. We’re family.”
At first, Avery looks a little taken aback by what I said.
Then her entire face lights up as she beams a smile back at me. “That we are.”
Reaching out, she gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze, lingering for a moment that’s longer than necessary before she pulls away and walks past me.
Turning, I watch her as she walks out the front doors, my heart squeezing with a strange sensation that’s soft and fuzzy but also a little painful.
I can still feel her warmth on my shoulder as I take my seat. Still see the brightness of her smile as I look at the big white plastic bag in front of me.
Dammit.
So much for quitting. I can’t walk away now, not when I know how much it means to Avery.
Untying the bag, I fish out a couple of sandwiches and salads and set them out on the desk. Then I stare at the food, trying to come to grips with the emotions swelling inside my chest.
For once in my life I’m needed, truly needed.
I don’t know how long I stare at the food, lingering and savoring the experience, before I notice someone approaching the desk.
“Hey Bree,” Casey says and gives me a little wave as he wanders over to me.
Freshly showered, his damp hair is combed back, though one stray strand keeps falling into his eyes.
“Well, if it isn’t my hero,” I smile at him and watch with delight as a blush creeps up his neck.
“I’m not a hero,” he grumbles as he stops beside the desk.
“You’ll always be my hero,” I tell him and have to bite my lip to keep from giggling as his blush deepens.
Reaching up, he rubs the back of his neck and shifts on his feet as if he’s uncomfortable. Then he grumbles something beneath his breath, but I can’t hear it over the loud growl suddenly coming from his stomach.
“You hungry?” I ask.
“Yeah, a little,” he admits as he drops his hand.
“Want a sandwich? I have no clue what’s in it, but it’s probably good,” I say as I nudge one of the two sandwiches toward him.
“How do you not know what’s in it?” he asks as he picks up the sandwich and unwraps the end.
Before I can shrug my shoulders, he’s taking a big bite out of it.
“I think they gave me the wrong thing in the drive thru,” I answer.
Chewing with a thoughtful look on his face, he swallows then grins at me. “It’s an Italian, my favorite.”
I grin back. “Awesome.”
Standing from my chair, I give it a little nudge, rolling it toward him. “Here, sit while you eat.”
Already chewing another big bite, he shakes his head in refusal.
“Sit,” I order, “or you’ll get indigestion.”
“Yes, mom,” he says irritably and drops down in the chair.
I gasp. “I’m not that old.”
Casey snickers before taking another bite.
“You’re what? Ten? Way too old to be my kid,” I say as I perch myself on the inner corner of my desk.
“Twelve,” he corrects me after swallowing then he takes another big bite.
The entire footlong sub is nearly gone now.
“Yeah, definitely way too old to be my kid,” I say and pick up one of the salads.
“How old are you?” he asks, peering up at me curiously.
I waggle my finger at him and smirk. “You should never ask a woman that question.”
Rolling his eyes, he finishes off his sandwich then balls the wrapper up and tosses it into my little garbage can.
“How old do I look?” I ask as I peel the lid off the salad.
Eyes lighting up with mischief, he crosses his arms and leans back in the chair as he says, “I dunno, all you grownups look old to me…”
I snort and he laughs.
“But if I had to guess, I’d say thirty.”
I reach down, grab a plastic fork out of the bag, then wave it menacingly at him. “Thirty? Are you sure that’s your final answer?”
Uncrossing his arms, he holds his hands up protectively in front of him, but the mischief in his eyes spreads to the grin on his lips. “Thirty-five?”
“Why you little…” I mock growl, toss the salad to the side, and slide off the desk.
Casey jumps up from the chair with a giggle as I point the fork at him.
“I’m sorry!” he cries out as he moves behind the chair, putting it between me and him.
And as he looks at me, on the verge of another giggle, my heart swells with joy. It swells because all that anger he seems to be carrying around is gone from his face and he finally looks his age.
He finally looks like a happy twelve-year-old boy and not a child who was forced to grow up too soon and pretend to be a man.
I jump a little to the right and he jumps to the left.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats with another giggle. “I got it wrong. You’re forty!”
“Oh my god,” I cry out and stomp around the chair until he’s now the one standing in front of it.
“I’ll have you know I’m only twenty,” I say as I narrow my eyes and point the fork at him.
“Oh,” he says, his eyes going wide with surprise. Then that little mischievous grin returns. “You look soooo much older.”
I let out a little shriek and chase him around the chair again, his happy giggles music to my ears. “I’m so going to get you for that!”
We make it three rotations around the chair, with me purposely trying not to catch him, before he stops, giggling so much he’s nearly out of breath.
After grabbing his
stomach, he gives me his best puppy dog eyes and juts out his bottom lip. “But I thought I was your hero.”
My phone suddenly dings behind me and the sound jolts me back to reality, but I manage to catch myself before I completely ruin the moment.
Bringing the fork up, I tap it thoughtfully against my chin. “That’s right, you are…” I let out a big sigh. “I guess I can’t hurt you then.”
I take a step back, then another, and wave at his chair. “You’re safe, my hero. I promise I won’t stab you with this fork.”
Casey eyes me suspiciously, like he’s not buying my act, and remains behind the chair.
“What? A big boy like you is afraid of a little old lady like me?” I smirk, goading him.
Snorting, he drops his arms and puffs out his little chest. But he still comes around the chair cautiously, afraid I’m going to jump him at any second.
And he’s right to be afraid because as soon as he’s close enough, I pounce on him.
I don’t stab him with the fork, though. No, I drop it and wrap my arms around him, giving him the biggest hug I can give.
His entire body stiffens up in response.
But I don’t care, for two seconds I manage to push some of my love into him before I jump back and cackle.
“I never said anything about not hugging you though!”
As I move to the desk and hop back up to sit, Casey just stands in place with this shell-shocked expression on his face.
An expression that starts to worry me.
Did I seriously fuck up?
Not knowing what else to do, I cackle at him again and say, “You have my girl cooties now!”
That seems to bring him out of it. Shaking his head, his eyes return to focus and he pouts at me. “Ew. You don’t play fair.”
Completely unapologetic, I smirk and pick up my phone. “You can pay me back next time…”
Glancing down at my screen, I see a long text message from my father.
Fuck.
My eyes quickly scan across all the words before the preview disappears, and my heart drops to my stomach.
My father wants me to meet him, Tristan, and Tristan’s father at the Bellagio for dinner tonight.
A shadow passes over my phone a second before Casey asks, “What’s wrong?”