“I really want you to be at the game this week.”
It’s not an event that I want to attend. But I feel obligated to after all the games I’ve backed out of. “I’ll be there.”
“That’s awesome. But the real question is who you’re going to back?”
“You,” I reply.
“Then wear my jersey, please. It always made me play better when you’d wear it.”
“Okay.” I still have it hanging in the closet along with my cheer uniform. The jersey unquestionably seems easier to commit to. “Are you sure we’re good?”
“Of course. Just please be there to support me. I need you.” The statement makes me think of Luca. It shouldn’t. But it does. And now I’ve committed myself to showing for two very different matchups.
49
LUCA
I can’t believe she actually showed. Cain’s grin means he’s more than pleased with himself and he should be.
“Now, can you focus on the fight?” Cain has the same frustrated stance that he has constantly for the last few days.
“That’s what I’ve been doing.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Too late.But beating the shit out of my brother won’t be on the list. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk over to her where she is standing with Brooke. “Showed after all.”
“Unfortunately,” she answers.
“How about a good luck kiss?” I ask, knowing it won’t happen.
“How about you call off this absurd brawl with your brother?” she responds.
Brooke doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. We have enough to worry about without you two fools trying to injure each other.”
I keep my sights set on Ivy. “I never back down from a fight.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “That doesn’t make you strong or prove anything.”
Leaning forward, I place my mouth next to her ear. “Neither does resisting what you really want.”
Her hands press against my chest as she shifts back and gazes up at me. “Please. For me.”
It takes everything I have to not cave, but what she doesn’t realize isthisis for her. “What will you give me?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Doesn’t sound like an appealing bargain. Let me know if the stakes change.” The truth is she’s here and it’s enough. For now.
The referee enters the center of the floor and shouts, “Last one standing wins.” The only rule of the Tomb.
“Still don’t understand that arrangement.” Micah motions to Ivy but I don’t dare look away. We both keep our fists at our chins in a defensive stance, bouncing on the balls of our feet as we rotate around the ring, but neither throw a punch. The crowd is shouting, it’s ear-piercing and getting louder with every passing second.
Micah laughs. “That’s it. You know she’s too good for you, so it won’t last no matter what you do.”
His fist comes out, barely connecting with my chin as I counter and strike him in the rib cage. He’s trying to distract me with her, but it’s only fueling my need to shut him down. She’s not his or anyone else’s to use. She’s mine.
