“How about seven?” I suggest. “I crash pretty quickly after my shift ends.”
“Sure thing.” His grin is so broad it could blind me. “I’ll see you then, Sydney.”
I return his smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Gabe
I haven’t seen Sydney since bowling, although we’ve messaged a few times. On Friday, the night before my fight, I’m eager to see her in person. As soon as training ends, I head home and make myself presentable, then take my motorcycle to her apartment. I let myself into the building, but when I knock on her door, there’s no response, and when I peek under it—yeah, I know that’s a fucking creepy thing to do, but it’s better than waltzing in unannounced—it’s dark inside. She’s either in bed, or out somewhere. Considering it’s not yet eight, I’m willing to bet she isn’t asleep. Of course, there’s always the chance she had to work a long shift, but there’s a crawling discomfort in the pit of my stomach telling me she’s out somewhere with another man. I haven’t heard anything about her dating plans this week, but considering she started off with a roar, I have no doubt she’s still scoping out her options.
Or maybe she’s not. Perhaps I’m getting all worked up about nothing.
I call Lena.
“Hi, Gabe,” she says.
“Sydney isn’t at her place. Is she there?”
She sighs. “Sorry, but no. I haven’t seen her today.”
Damn. “Any idea where she might be?”
“Gabe…”
My throat tightens, as does my grip on the phone. “Is she on a date?”
“I don’t know.” Lena exhales softly. “If I had to guess, then yeah, she probably is. I’m sorry.”
I’m going to be sick. Apparently everyone is aware of my feelings now. Everyone except Sydney, who is off blissfully whiling away her evening with some guy who might decide he wants to call her his.
“Don’t be sorry. She’s allowed to see whomever the fuck she wants.” Now I’m swearing at my brother’s girl, becausethat’sreally going to go over well. “I gotta go, Lena.”
Hanging up before I can make the situation worse—since I’m 100% certain she’ll relay our conversation to Jase—I return to my bike, hop on, and consider my next step. I made the effort to clean up, so I don’t want to slink back home. On impulse, I ride past Moretti’s. As I pass, I see something that wrenches my heart from my chest. Sydney is at the window table with another man, and they’re sharing a bowl of something, both of them smiling. I skid to a halt, ignoring the guy behind me, who shouts out the window and flips me the bird.
By now I’ve passed the diner, so I walk my bike to the side of the road and back up. As they come into view, the guy reaches across the table and touches her hand.
I see red.
I want to wrench his arm from its socket and toss it in the nearest dumpster. What does he think he’s doing, touching her like that? Doesn’t he know she only likes to touch people she’s comfortable with? But then she turns her hand over and clasps his. The action strikes me like a blow. Next thing I know, my helmet is slung over the handlebars and I’m striding inside. I made no conscious decision to move, and the horror on Sydney’s face when she sees me is almost comical, but I’m committed now. There’s no bowing out.
“Hey, Syd,” I say, praying that steam isn’t billowing from my ears. “I was driving past and saw you. Thought I’d stop and say hi. Who’s your friend?” I emphasize the word “friend,” eyeballing his hand where it’s linked with hers. The guy is either brave or stupid because he doesn’t move it, and while Sydney fidgets, she doesn’t release him, either.
“Gabe.” She straightens, drawing my attention to her top, which is loose and flowy and too low-cut. She wore it for him, and my hands itch to knock him out because of it. “This is Ken. We work together at the hospital. Ken, this is my friend Gabe.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ken disentangles his hand from Sydney’s to shake mine.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Same here.”
Despite my glare, he doesn’t so much as cower. It seems like Sydney found a man who isn’t scared of me. A doctor, no less. Way to make a guy feel inadequate. Especially when this particular doctor has the kind of face women gush over. I bet the ladies line up at his door. Plus that Ivy League education I can sense from a mile off means he’s smart enough to go for Sydney.
At least I’m tougher than him. If this were centuries earlier, I’d have beat him to a pulp and claimed her as my prize. Unfortunately, that kind of attitude is exactly the sort of thing that would piss her off.
“Shouldn’t you be at home, resting up and doing some last-minute research?” she asks, and it’s blatantly obvious she wants me to leave. As for me, I want to hit something. Preferably Ken’s face. But she’s right, I have things I need to do.
“Will you be at my fight tomorrow?” I desperately want to know she’ll be in the crowd. Sydney has always been my biggest cheerleader and seeing her as I walk to the cage gives me all the encouragement I need to win. Even when she looks terrified. Hell,especiallywhen she looks terrified. In her eyes, I want to be the biggest, baddest dude out there.
“Yes, of course.” Finally, she smiles. “I haven’t missed one yet, have I?”
“Except for that time—”
