by A. S. Teague
I study the stitching over the sponsors’ names, and it’s obvious that Rebecca spent a pretty penny having it made. It’s far nicer than my old one, which I refused to replace out of fear of giving myself bad luck. Bitterly, I laugh at the irony of it all.
“Well? Do you like it?” she asks expectantly.
“No,” I say brusquely, my throat thick with emotion.
Her face falls. “You don’t like it? Well, I mean, that’s okay. We can have something else made.” She tosses it back on the bench and then riffles through another bag. Holding up a hat with the team logo and my name embroidered on it, she says, “What about this?”
“No,” I repeat.
“Okaaaaay,” she drawls, tossing it aside. She digs through the final bag, pulls out a T-shirt with yet a different version of the same writing, and smiles widely. “This one’s my favorite. Whaddya think?”
“No,” I tell her firmly.
She stamps her foot, “Can you say something other than no?”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I tell her, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, Rebecca. But just stop.”
She throws the shirt she’s holding at me and shouts, “Why?”
Finally losing the little bit of composure I was clinging to, I explode. “Because I can’t go back! Don’t you fucking get that? If I thought there was a chance in hell I could fight again, don’t you think I’d be doing everything in my power to do it?”
She throws her hands in the air. “No! I don’t! Because you can go back! You just won’t.”
“I’m thirty-six years old. I haven’t trained for a fight in over two years. I don’t have what it takes anymore.” I shove my hands through my hair. “And, even if I did, I’m not what the league wants anymore!”
“Excuses. All of it. Excuses,” she snaps. “You couldn’t win a fight tomorrow, no. But that’s why Breccan is going to train you.”
“I don’t want Breccan to train me!”
“Well, he’s already agreed to it.”
“That’s humiliating!”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, give me a fucking break.”
“Not to mention I don’t have the money to pay a trainer. Or a manager.”
She waves a hand, “Well I can take care of that.”
“The hell you can!” I shout. “I’m not going to have my girlfriend bank-rolling my comeback!”
“Jesus, Ryker. No one will know!”
“I’ll know!” I roar.
“I’ve already got several sponsors lined up too.”
“Well, cancel them.”
“No!” she shouts.
Through clenched teeth, I tell her, “It’s not happening. Let it go.”
“This is about the drugs, isn’t it?” she asks.
Furious, I stalk toward her until my nose is an inch from hers. “Drop it now. Take all that shit back, and forget about this entire conversation.”
I turn on my heel and, with long strides, make it to the door in less than a second. I pull it open just as Rebecca shouts at me.
“I know you didn’t take the drugs, Ryker!”
Releasing my grip, I let the door slam back into place and spin to face her once again. “You don’t know shit, Rebecca.”
She straightens her spine and takes a step in my direction. “I know you, Ryker.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes another step. “You won’t even take Tylenol for a fucking headache.” She continues her slow march in my direction. “There’s no way you took steroids. I don’t give a shit what they said.”
Once she’s directly in front of me again, she jabs a finger into my chest, “I don’t know why you won’t talk to me about it. But it doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t take the drugs.” She loops her arms around my hips and lowers her voice, pleading with me. “Please, Ryker. Don’t give up on this. Let me help you. Let Breccan train you. Let Tripp represent you.” She presses her lips to mine, but I don’t return the kiss.
Untangling her arms, I push her away from me. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” she asks.
I gesture between us. “This. I can’t right now. I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ll call you later. Please, do not come to my house,” I beg before yanking the door open and rushing through it.
Tripp calls out as I cross the gym floor, and humiliated that I’ve been the object of Rebecca’s begging the last couple of days, I don’t even look in his direction.
I’ve always been prideful, maybe a little too much so. But Rebecca’s meddling has crossed the line.
Once I’ve cleared the gym’s front door, I jog to my car and climb inside. Glancing back, I see Rebecca standing in the doorway of the gym.
It’s probably cowardly of me, but I look away from her penetrating gaze and start the car, wasting no time before peeling out of the parking lot and away from Rebecca.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rebecca
Ryker is being stubborn and dramatic and I want to tell him that. I spent days researching his suspension, calling in favors, contacting sponsors. And for what? An over-the-top reaction the equivalent of a child throwing a tantrum.
I trailed after him, stopping only because Tripp grabbed me by the arm, physically halting my progress. He convinced me that Ryker would come around, that I just needed to give him some space.
So here I am, a day and a half later, still giving Ryker “space,” which consists of me checking my phone every thirty seconds to see if he’s messaged me and rushing to the window any time I hear a car go by my house.
I finally gave up on hearing from him and decided to go out with a couple of friends I haven’t seen in a while. I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup when the doorbell chimes.
“Come in!” I shout to the girls. “Be right there!”
I’m leaning over the sink in my bathroom, putting on a layer of lip gloss, when a large figure steps into the doorway. My heart begins to gallop, and I freeze, my hand halfway to my mouth. Slowly, I stand up straight and turn.
I clear my throat and say, “Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you today.”
His eyes sweep my body from head to toe, and he says, “Going somewhere?”
Testily, I reply, “What? Did you think I was sitting around here, waiting on you?”
One corner of his mouth tips up. “Weren’t you?”
I roll my eyes and cap my lip gloss before tossing it on the counter behind me. “What are you doing here, Ryker?”
He studies me, peering into my eyes so intently that I swear he’s seeing straight into my soul. I can almost see the gears in his mind turning, and I’m dying to ask him what he’s thinking. But, if I open my big mouth, I may ruin whatever is about to happen. So I stand perfectly still and let him workout whatever it is in his head.
After another moment, he finally speaks. “I’ll do it.” His voice was so low that I almost couldn’t make out what he said.
My stomach flips and a shot of excitement races up my spine, but I curb my enthusiasm and ask, “What if I’m no longer interested in that?”
He narrows his eyes. “Not in the mood for that shit.”
He looks tired, and I check the sarcastic comment that was on its way out of my mouth.
I take a deep breath and tell him, “I don’t appreciate the way you reacted yesterday. I really don’t appreciate being ignored for two days. So I’m sorry if you aren’t in the mood for my shit tonight, but I’m not really in the mood for your shit, either.”
Holding his hands up in surrender, he says, “You’re right. Truce?”
I study him carefully. His earnest expression combined with the pleading in his eyes convinces me that he’s sincere.
“Okay, Ryker.”
“So I’m ready to train again. To fight again. But there’s something I have to tell you first.”
Frowning, I nod. “Okay. So tell me.”
He glances around and says, “Let’s go sit down.” Then he backs out of the doorway
and strides down the hall.
I follow closely on his heels, and just as we enter the living room, my front door flies open and two of my girls step inside.
“Reeeeeeeeb!” Destiny shouts as she prances inside.
Her sister, Trinity, right behind her. They both skid to a halt when they see Ryker standing in the middle of the room, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders.
“Well, hello, hot stuff,” Trinity says, looking Ryker up and down.
I’ve never been jealous in the past, but something about the way that she looks at him rubs me the wrong way. There’s no way my girls would ever dare to make a move on a guy I am dating, but that knowledge does nothing to pacify the voice in my head screaming at me to stake my claim.
I place my hand on his chest possessively and tell her, “Back off. He’s mine.”
Destiny laughs and then looks at Ryker. “You must be Ryker.” She elbows Trinity and says, “Now, I see why she’s spent the last month flaking out on us. If I had him in my bed, I’d be ignoring the world too.” She waltzes over to us and sticks her hand out. “Since Rebecca’s busy being jealous instead of courteous, I guess I’ll introduce myself. I’m Dezzi.” She hooks her thumb behind her and says, “That’s my sister, Trin.”
Ryker briefly grasps her hand and says, “Nice to meet you.” He glances behind her and tips his chin.
“So, Ryker, you coming with us?” Trinity asks, running a hand through her long, wavy locks before tossing them over her shoulder.
I narrow my eyes and, out of the side of my mouth, practically growl, “Destiny. You wanna put a muzzle on your sister over there?”
They both laugh loudly.
“Oh, come on, Reb. Where’s your sense of humor?” Trinity giggles, tossing her hair again.
Destiny reaches into her clutch, pulls out a compact, and studies her face while asking, “So, Ryker. You going or no?”
He glances down at me.
I shake my head. “No. He’s not. And sorry y’all, but I think I’m gonna have to take a rain check too.”
Trinity rolls her eyes and says, “I’d be mad, but”––she looks Ryker over once more—“I can’t say that I blame ya.”
Destiny shoves her compact back inside her purse and prances over to me to give me a quick hug and an air kiss. “I miss you girl. But I get it.” She glances over at Ryker and smiles shyly. “I’d probably be scarce too.”
While Trinity’s appraisal of Ryker was predatory and set me on edge, Dezzi’s was sweet.
“Lunch soon? I’ll stop by the gym. You can hook me up with one of the guys there. How’s Tripp been?” she asks quietly.
I shrug, “Still an asshole. Back with the Ice Queen.”
Destiny’s face falls just a little before she quickly covers it up and says, “Tell him Trin and I said hey. Nice to meet you Ryker. Take care of our girl.”
Trinity lifts her hand in a wave to me and then uses it to blow a kiss at Ryker. I grit my teeth and follow them to the door. Once they’ve made it to their car, I slam my door shut and lock it.
“Dezzi and Trin? What kind of stripper names are those?” Ryker chuckles behind me.
I whirl around and lean against the door. “Oh, you got jokes about my girls’ names, Barney?”
He groans. “Touché, doll. Touché.”
I shake my head and then, bending down, pull my three-inch heels off one at a time. Holding them in my fingers, I shuffle over to my couch and flop down. Then I drop my shoes on the floor beside me.
“Hey, don’t lose those,” Ryker says, his voice husky. “Might wanna see you wearing them later tonight.”
I grin.
“So, those your girls? Why haven’t I met them before now?” he asks, settling down beside me on the couch. He pulls my feet into his lap and begins rubbing.
Moaning, I tell him, “You keep doing that and I may hold you captive.”
He chuckles. “It wouldn’t be against my will.”
“Dezzi and Trin are two of my girlfriends. We go out together. Used to be the clubs every weekend. Then I got tired of the scene. They haven’t.” I lifted a shoulder.
“Destiny seemed nice. Trin seemed…horny?”
I sigh, my blood beginning to boil as I remember the way she looked at Ryker. “Yeah. Dezzi is great. Has it bad for Tripp. Always has.” I frown, remembering the last time we all went out together and Tripp wet home with another girl. The look on Destiny’s face nearly broke my heart. It was the last time I invited Tripp to do anything with us.
“Trinity. Well, she’s just a bitch. I swear, if she tried to eye-fuck you one more time, I was gonna rip her perfect hair out of her head,” I tell him, my voice rising.
He squeezes the arch of my foot, a smirk on his face. “Jealous?”
“Uh, yeah. Did you not see her? Perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body.”
“Baby, I didn’t see anyone else in the room but you.”
My head snaps up, and he’s looking at me. And I swear it looks like he’s gazing upon one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
“I never see anyone but you.”
My stomach dips, and my body heats. “Jesus, you know all the right things to say,” I mumble, fanning myself. “No wonder I can’t stay mad at you.”
He doesn’t reply, and I lean my head back against the arm of the couch and close my eyes, relaxing as he continues to rub my feet.
After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Babe, I need to tell you something.”
Reluctantly, I force my eyes open and sit up. “Okay.”
He opens his mouth to speak and then hesitates. Worry begins to grow in the pit of my belly, and the longer he doesn’t speak, the worse it becomes.
When it finally feels like I’m going to vomit from the anticipation of whatever it is he’s about to tell me, I say, “Oh, just spit it out!”
Releasing my foot, he pushes a hand through his hair and says, “I did take the drugs.”
My stomach lurches, and I snatch my legs from his lap. “You what?”
He puts his hands up. “Hear me out Rebecca.”
“Hear you out? Oh my God, Ryker! I went to fucking bat for you! I had to tell Brec and Tripp the house was being broken in to!”
He leaps to his feet, his eyes wild with worry. “Wait, your house was broken in? When was this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I roll my eyes. “No, no, no. I told them it was. To get them over here. No one actually broke in.”
His shoulders relax and he groans, “Jesus, Rebecca. Why would you do that? I bet you scared the shit out of them.”
“Yeah, probably. But that’s not the point!”
I’m shocked. I can’t believe he actually did it. I was so sure he’d been falsely accused. But worse than the shock, I’m hurt. I have no business being hurt. He never once told me that he didn’t take the drugs. I just convinced myself that he didn’t. Shock and hurt quickly give way to anger and embarrassment.
“Get out of my house Ryker!” I stab a finger at my door. “Now!”
He steps toward me, his arms reaching, but I stand and step out of his grasp.
“Don’t touch me!”
He tries once more, but again, I sidestep his arms.
He sighs hard and then, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut. “One of the things I love most about you is your spunk. I love that you don’t take shit from anyone, myself included.” He drops his hands and opens his eyes, pinning me with a stare. “But, if you don’t stop yelling at me for one minute so that I can explain, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
My jaw drops, but I shuffle back to the couch and sit down.
He follows me over and sits beside me. “Thank you.”
When he reaches for my hand, I firmly shake my head and he stops.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I mutter.
“I did take the drugs. But it’s not what you think. I have no idea how I took them. I have a few theories, but no concrete evidence.”
&n
bsp; “What do you mean you don’t know how you took them?” My shock at his admission mixes with confusion. I don’t know how it’s possible to have taken drugs without knowing about it, but something isn’t adding up.
“Let me start at the beginning.”
“That might be a good idea,” I agree.
“Remember how I told you that calling you those names was an act? Well, it was. The league had just acquired Dax Prescott. He was a big name. A huge draw. He was going to earn them millions—hell, maybe even billions. But he was fucking garbage as a fighter. He couldn’t win a fight against a hamster. But that didn’t matter.”
I’m confused as to what this has to do with him taking steroids, but I don’t interrupt him. It’s difficult, but somehow, I manage to stay quiet.
“I tried putting on the show I thought they wanted. You know. Trash talking, playing up the rivalries, practically murdering my opponents. But that wasn’t good enough.” He laughs bitterly. “They wanted me out. It was time for a new champ. But they knew that Prescott would never beat me. So they found another way to oust me.”
As the pieces begin falling into place, the anger I was feeling toward Ryker for having lied to me transforms into fury over the injustice he was dealt.
“I––this––this is––” I stammer, unable to form a coherent sentence.
This time when he reaches for my hand, I don’t pull away. Instead, I grasp his hand and hang on tight.
“Exactly,” he says softly. “They called me into headquarters one miserable morning and told me I’d failed the drug test. It was less than a week from our fight. I’d laughed in Brown’s face. I never took fuckin’ steroids in my life. I didn’t believe in that shit. Made your dick small.”
He smiles when he catches me gazing at the fly of his jeans. “Plus, I’m not a cheater. Gram would have beaten me black and blue if I’d ever cheated at anything. Anyway, I walked out of that office and went straight to my doctor. Had them draw blood to prove that I wasn’t taking shit.”