As if he just realized we had an audience, Brady whirls around and jumps down from the ring, his shoulders squared. “Can I help you with something?”
The man in front who had apparently told the joke, startles. “No… I was just…”
Brady’s expression is thunderous, and for a minute I feel bad for the guy. “Just what?” He growls, taking a step closer. “Staring at my baby sister like a creep.”
For fuck’s sake.
The guy blanches, but his friend in the gray tank smirks at Brady. “It’s a boxing gym. We watch bouts all the time.”
Brady’s eyes narrow, and I’ll give it to the guy; he’s not backing down as he flashes a smile my way. “Your sister’s great… for a girl. But I mean, I guess it’s expected considering who your dad is.”
Brady stiffens further, and I interrupt before this guy wades even further into dangerous territory. Our father is not a subject I want to discuss… ever.
“I’m done. Unlike you Neanderthals, I need more than just a swipe of bar soap to get ready for work.”
Finn side-eyes me over the obvious distraction but begins pulling off his own gear as I yank the Velcro on my glove with my teeth.
“Show’s over.” Brady glares at the group as they slowly disperse, Tank-Top giving me another cheeky smile before sauntering off with his friends. “I should kick him out,” Brady grumbles.
Grabbing my T-shirt from the corner post where I’d left it, he tosses it at me. “Maybe you should leave this on next time.”
The hurt that slices through me is so unexpected, my tone is too harsh when I snap, “You’re the one who told me to take it off so you couldsee my form.” Shoving my head through the neck hole, I try to swallow past the tightening in my throat. “It’s not my fault if people stare.”
Brady freezes. “Sera, I didn’t?—”
“Pretty sure it wasn’t your scars those guys were staring at.” Finn snorts as he climbs from the ring.
“What?” I scowl at him. It’s always easier to default to anger rather than to identify the other emotions churning in my stomach.
“You bounce on your feet.A lot.” He stares meaningfully at my chest before chuckling.
My eyes drop to my breasts. “Oh.”
Brady audibly growls at his operative, but Finn just laughs again and slaps his hand on my brother’s shoulder as he walks past.
Hands on hips, I turn on my older brother. “Cool it with the alpha, overprotective bullshit, Brady.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Is there something going on between you and Finn? I know you work together a lot, but if he makes you uncomfortable, I can put him in the field more.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, and with it, the last of the residual panic leaves my body.
Brady’s shoulders relax as he extends a hand to help me over the ropes, before begrudgingly adding. “Finn’s a nice guy. If you’re interested, I won’t?—”
“Tell me I can’t date someone I work with?” I give him an arch look. “Good to know since you’re living with a former client.” Tucking my gloves under my arm, I take the water bottle he offers. “Finn is like a brother to me. All the guys are. You know that.”
He grunts and walks with me toward the locker rooms. I know he can’t help himself. With our age difference and our father not really in our lives, Brady has always been more than just a brother to me. He’s overprotective, and after what happened two years ago, he’s taken it to another level. In his way, he’s trying to help, but sometimes I feel like I’m being smothered.
Brady’s face scrunches, a sure sign he’s uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “Are you still being hassled? About Ray?”
My body tenses at the mention of our absent father.
After Brady’s fiancée was kidnapped last summer, people discovered that our glorified sperm donor was Ray ‘The Hammer,’ world-famous heavyweight champion. It had led to interest from the paparazzi. The truth came out not only about Ray’s secret family—our situation being a loose interpretation of the word—but it also brought an increased interest in my life and Brady’s. When one particularly motivated “journalist,” looking for a new angle, dug up the police reports from my attack, the focus had switched primarily to me.
Fortunately, since my ex-boyfriend disappeared not long after being questioned by police, and his family had no interest in talking to the press, the story had died out quickly.
Unfortunately, it had also stirred up my ex-boyfriend’s family’s interest in blaming me for their son’s absence from their life.
Last I heard, they were threatening a wrongful death lawsuit against me. Even though I’d been assured by everyone that nothing would come of it as Aaron hadn’t been declared legally dead yet, it still hung over me every day.
