“That, kid, was Maisey, Drew’s ex fuck buddy, and now Mrs. Howard Sutton. If you get me my food and join me for lunch, I’ll explain as much as I can.”
I looked to the door and back to the kitchen, my hands dropping to my sides as I nodded in agreement. I was pretty sure there were going to be holes in the story. Hell, it was a guarantee, but at least I would have some kind of answer for the shit that just went down.
“You got a deal, Deeks. Then you can explain what she meant about you being my guard dog.”
The ‘oh shit’ look I got was more than enough confirmation that I wasn’t going to like what I heard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Drew
When Slater showed up in my bedroom doorway, sometime after lunch, holding up two pairs of boxing gloves while I struggled to lift my head and find a way to open my eyes, I was more than really fucking grateful. I’d fallen asleep the night before at some early hour in the morning. It had taken me a while to find a way to distract myself from the urge I felt to go to Sutton’s house and drag him out onto his front lawn by the scruff of his neck.
I could take anything from any man, except one thing: I hated being patronized. The fact that he tried to belittle me in front of Ayda wound me up tight more than I wanted to admit, but by some miracle, sleep claimed me, whether I’d been ready for it or not.
“Time is it?” I groaned, squinting and propping myself up on the mattress. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I let my head roll back and yawned, dragging the noise out so it sounded like the cry of a dog.
“Time you got your ass out of your pit, got your sweats on and headed out into the training room with me.”
I shuffled up to more of a sitting position, my knees falling farther apart while I stared up at him blankly. “You’retaking me to the training room?”
“If you’re ready?” He smirked at me with a challenge in his eyes.
I wanted to ask him what had taken him so long, but I knew that Slater, more than anyone, would probably give it to me straight, and quite frankly, I wasn’t sure I was in the mood for so much talking today. Our sergeant at arms suffered no fools, especially not me. “I’m always fucking ready,” I growled through a smile.
“Good. Get dressed and meet me there in fifteen.”
“I’ll meet you there in five.”
The door slammed shut, but not before I saw the creasing of his eyes as he turned away. I jumped out of bed, not even bothering to head to the shower as I hopped into my sweat pants commando style and pulled the drawstring tight around my waist. I was more ready for this than any other thing, besides riding my bike, even if my last time in the ring resulted in the night that changed all our lives.
I’d spent too long avoiding getting back on the horse and now was the time. Now. Was. The. Time.
Shoving my feet into my sneakers, I pulled open the door, walked through the bar and started to cross the yard, bare-chested. There was no need for me to wear anything more than I had to. I intended on making my body work hard, making it sweat. I needed to see if I could survive this.
The smell of the old training room hit me smack in the face the moment I walked into the warehouse. While my eyes scanned all around and tried to find a way to commit it all to memory again, my skin prickled as the ghost of Pete started to hang over me like an invisible blanket of both comfort and distress.
“Not now, bud. Not now,” I whispered to myself, my lips barely moving as I spoke. “Let me do this.”
Slater was in the far corner, rolling his neck from side to side as he picked up all the equipment around him and started to put things in order. As soon as I started to walk over to him, I caught his attention and he turned around to face me with a grin on his face.
“No women in here, you know. Put a shirt on.”
“It’s been a while since I let you check out your biggest competition, buddy.” The smirk on my own face grew bigger as I approached him.
“Please. I’ve seen more meat on Kenny.”
“Why’s everyone got to talk about Kenny all the fucking time these days? He the golden boy now?” I came to a stop in front of him, my eyes looking up to scan the punch bag by our side like it was my very own version of Mount Everest.
He tossed me my gloves and I turned back just in time to catch them as they hit my chest.
“You got a problem with Kenny now?”
“Only his eyebrows,” I grumbled back, smiling as I looked up at him and started to slide my gloves on like I’d not had a five-year break from them. “He’s like a skinny, white Fresh Prince of Bel Air. All he needs now is a tie dye T-shirt, a backwards cap and he’s all set.”
“Says the guy who waltzed in here like Swayze from Roadhouse.”
“I’ll take that!” I laughed roughly, the excitement of being back in this kind of environment making my arms flex as I began to bounce on my toes.
