I start to rip his head off but thankfully catch myself just in time. Hart has nothing to do with this. Per usual, he’s takingtime out of his day to help. Even if I don’t need it—not the kind they can give me, anyway.
“Those questions never crossed my mind,” I say, circling the bag.
“Huh. Seems like the first question I’d ask myself. But what do I know?”
“You know where I am, so you can leave now.”
He chuckles in a way only Hartley can. It’s kind of amused, kind of cocky, and kind of like if you push him too much, he might rip your throat out of your body.
“You wanna tell me why you’re being a fuck today?” Hartley asks, his tone making it clear. He’s done with my shit.
Well, guess what, Hartley—me fucking, too.
I toss a couple of jabs, smacking my glove off the bag. “Turns out that I’m one dumb motherfucker, Hart. Did you know that?”
“Yup.”
“Asshole,” I mumble, although I fight my first grin of the day.
I don’t want to talk about this. I want to forget it ever happened. I don’t want to know Drew Fucking Van, or his sister, or John Pelfry—none of it.
Life is so much easier when you don’t give a fuck.
“In the spirit of expediting this process that neither of us wants to be a part of, I’m going to tell you what I know, and we can work from there,” Hartley says. “I know that you and Audrey have probably been a thing since you laid eyes on her. And I know you took her somewhere for a few days because Cathy raided my candy jar—for you.” He stares at me like he’s trying to prove a point.I don’t give a shit about your points, Hart. Save the energy.“And I also know that something happened that made you pivot your whole approach to Audrey, and you then told her to fuck off.”
I pull my last punch and step away from the bag. “I didn’t say that.” I level my gaze with his, hating that Audrey’s gone.Her pain, her tears, they’re all I’ve thought about. And now,she’s gone … because of me?Fuck.“I didn’t tell her to fuck off.”
“So, what’s going on? What happened? What’s the big mystery so I can solve it and get back to work?”
I slip off my gloves, irritation growing for my friend. He’s standing next to my drink and a bench, so I sit a few steps behind him and toss my gloves in my bag.
“Wanna hear something wild?” I ask, flipping my bottle open. “I don’t think I like fighting anymore.”
He whistles through his teeth. “You have my attention.”
Great. I got nothing else to say.
Everything in my life is one tangled web. It’s so complicated. While I’m usually pretty damn good at getting knots out of stuff, I can’t find the loose end to pull here. I don’t know where to start.
I stretch my legs in front of me, wondering if I should just go back to Vegas to get away from everything … or will that be a waste of energy?
“You really want to be involved in this?” I ask. “Last chance to back out.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be involved at all, actually. But I’m here, you’re here, and I have twenty minutes before my pizza at Piper’s is ready. So be my guest.”
I stand and grab my towel, drying my skin. But as the fabric dusts over the slice in my forearm held together with pink thread … I want to die.
“Fine,” I say, resolved to loop Hartley in on at least some of it. Not all the details are important, and I don’t want to spend an hour outlining every small thing. “You have to swear that what I’m about to tell you won’t go any farther. Not to Cathy, not to Gray—no one.”
He flinches before nodding. “Yeah. Okay. You got it.”
Then here we go …
“I’m infatuated with her,” I admit, the sound of the words coming out of my mouth echoing across the gym. “I think of her or something Audrey-adjacent at least once an hour. It’s not healthy.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Depends. I worry about her, I daydream about her, I crave her.” I dry my head with my towel and throw it onto my bag, too. “But it’s infatuation at best. Right? You can’t fall in love with someone after knowing them for like two weeks. Maybe I love her pussy, and that’s why I dream about it, but I can’t loveher.”
