Felipe sweeps the change room and gives me the go-ahead to enter. While I’m changing, he takes up a position near the mats.
When I’m ready, I tape my fingers and try not to think about what they were almost doing to Jess twenty minutes ago.
Ethan’s already on the mat. Rolling with some purple belt I don’t recognize. He sees me and taps out. Comes over.
“Look who showed up.” He grabs his water bottle. “Thought you were bailing. Dad duties or whatever.”
“Luis has it covered.”
His expression shifts. Something protective slides into place. “Luis? What about Jess?”
“Gone home for the day.” I point at my watch. “It’s past Ben’s bedtime.”
“So how’d it go? Jess didn’t text me back.”
“She was great. Ben actually liked her.”
“Good. That’s good.” He’s studying me now. Really looking. “And you?”
“Fine.”
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” He moves closer. Lowers his voice. “You only show up here after tough days. Should I be worried about what kind of tough?”
Fuck.
He knows.
Or rather, he doesn’t know, but knows.
“Work,” I say flatly. “Just work.”
“Right.” He doesn’t believe me. I can see it. “Because if this was about something else. Aboutsomeoneelse. We’d have a problem.”
There it is. The warning.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning keep it professional.” He’s not joking. His voice has that edge. That protective older brother thing. “I vouched for you. I told her you were safe. So keep it that way.”
The words hit like a body shot. Because he’s right. He did vouch for me. And I’ve already broken that trust in about nine different ways. If only he knew the half of it...
“It’s just a job, Ethan.”
He nods. “Keep it that way.”
He walks back onto the mat. I stand there like an asshole processing the fact I just lied to my best friend’s face.
I need to roll. Now. Before I lose my shit completely.
But not with Ethan.
I turn my back on him, find the biggest guy on the mat. Some heavyweight who probably outweighs me by forty pounds. I don’t care. I need someone who can make me work. Someone who can grind me down until I’m too tired to think. Someone who has no idea I’m a billionaire.
We slap hands. He pulls guard. I drive forward.
