His jaw flexed as he pushed to his feet, pacing the small space. There was something else sitting under all of it, though, something he couldn’t ignore. She knew him. She didn’t know everything—but she knew enough. More than anyone else in his life right now. She’d seen the worst parts of him—the guilt andthe anger. She saw the shit that he didn’t let anyone else know about, and she still looked at him like he was something worth wanting, and that messed with his head more than anything else because he wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to someone seeing the cracks in him and not walking away.
“You better not screw this up,” he muttered to himself, because for the first time in a long time, he had something he didn’t want to lose. And that scared the hell out of him, but it didn’t make him back off, and it didn’t make him hesitate. If anything, it locked something in place deep inside of him. The decision had been made, the line had been crossed. Rocco grabbed his phone again, staring at her name for a second before typing.
I want to see you again.
He’d never been one to play games. He didn’t want to wait to see her again, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that he wasn’t about to let this fade into nothing. Not without a fight.
Rocco stared at his phone after sending the text.
I want to see you again.
His message was straight to the point—no bullshit, no games. That was just who he was. Still, his stomach twisted waiting for her reply, which was ridiculous considering he’d spent years getting shot at without blinking. Apparently, one tiny brunette therapist with a smart mouth and a killer right hook was more terrifying than combat.
Luna:That’s good, because I was planning on seeing you again anyway.
A slow grin pulled at his mouth before he could stop it. Jesus, the woman really did think she ran the world, and the fucked up part was that he liked it—maybe too much. Another message came through before he could answer.
Luna:Tomorrow night. My gym. Seven o’clock.
He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. There she was—bossy as hell. He couldn’t help but text her back.
Rocco:We go to the same gym. You asking me out again?
Three dots appeared, and he felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for her to reply.
Luna:No. I’m telling you where I’ll be, in case you’re interested.
His grin widened. Yeah, she was definitely too much, and he was definitely interested. He tossed the phone onto the bed and dragged both hands down his face, still smiling like an idiot. Tony and Luca would never let him live this shit down if they saw him right now. That thought had him grabbing his keys and heading out before he could overthink things. Sleep clearly wasn’t happening tonight, so he might as well hit the gym.
He got to the gym just before dawn and found it mostly empty. A few night owls worked the bags in the corner, music playing low through the speakers while sweat and leather filled the air. This place felt like home to him. At least, it felt more like home than anywhere else had in a long damn time.
Rocco wrapped his hands slowly, his mind still stuck on Luna and that kiss on her front porch. He thought about her mouthagainst his, and the way she looked at him like she saw every ugly part of him and didn’t scare easily.
That was new, because most people either pitied him after hearing about his platoon or avoided the subject entirely. Luna never did either. She just saw him, and somehow still wanted him, and that was the dangerous part. It wasn’t the attraction or chemistry that was obviously between the two of them. It was the fact that she was getting under his skin in a way nobody had in years.
“Jesus,” he muttered, stepping into the ring. He needed to hit something—badly.
Rocco went hard on the heavy bag, sweat dripping down his spine as he lost himself in the rhythm of it. Punch, pivot, hook. He kept his elbow tucked and remembered to breathe. He went again, harder each time until his knuckles burned through the wraps, but he welcomed the pain. It was what Jonesy had taught him when he started at the gym—to work through the pain. The pain grounded him. Hell, the pain made sense to him, but feelings—not so much.
“You’re gonna break the damn thing.” Rocco turned at the familiar voice and found Tony leaning against the ropes, coffee in one hand and amusement all over his face.
“Thought you couldn’t work out because you were staying home tonight with the wife,” Rocco said, grabbing a towel.
Tony shrugged. “She went to bed early, and I wasn’t tired.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You look weird.”
“Thanks,” Rocco said.
“No, seriously,” Tony said, climbing into the ring. “You’re smiling.”
Rocco immediately scowled. “No, I’m not.”
“Bullshit.” Tony pointed at him. “That’s the face people make after they get laid.”
Rocco snorted. “I didn’t get laid.”
“Yet,” Tony corrected. Rocco threw the towel at his head, and Tony caught it easily, laughing. “So the therapist thing is actually happening?”
“She’s not my therapist anymore,” Rocco said.
