Giving him a scrutinizing look, I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you really here?”
Brandon sighs, knowing that I know damn well he didn’t just show up on his own. “Mom’s worried about you and Andi. She’s afraid you’ll do something stupid and lose her forever. I’m supposed to mediate and get you two back together.”
Placing my hands on my hips, I draw in a deep breath and count to ten. It doesn’t work. “I appreciate the concern, and the confidence in me, but there’s nothing to work out with Andi. You just saw the pictures of her and Travis,” I say, pointing at the screen.
“I saw the media playing up their duets and what everyone wants to see happen. I saw an attempt to sell more of their music. What I haven’t seen, or heard, is Andi confirm any of this is true.”
“She hasn’t denied it either,” I spit out.
“Ah, but she has. Hasn’t she?” Brandon levels me with his prove-me-wrong look.
“Of course she denied it—to me.”
“Isn’t that what matters, Luke?”
Joe approaches as I’m staring at Brandon like a shocked idiot. He’s really defending her to me?
“Why aren’t you working out, kid?” Joe bellows.
“Joe, this is my brother, Brandon. He just flew in from Atlanta to spend the next month with me before the fight,” I dodge his question.
Joe and Brandon shake hands, and just before Joe can grill me again, I change the subject.
“Joe, I got a call last night from John Lane. He’s moving my stuff into a two-bedroom suite as we speak. Apparently Charlie and Artie are planning a different kind of fight for me next month. Know anything about that?”
“Those sons of bitches,” Joe growls. “I haven’t agreed to any of that yet. If they think they’re just moving in on you without my agreement, they can fucking think again.”
Joe snatches up his phone and quickly dials a number.
“Joe, it’s barely past five o’clock in the morning,” I point out.
“Charlie’s slept long enough,” Joe snarls. “Charlie. What the hell are you doing trying to take over my fighter?”
Joe points to the treadmill, and I walk back to finish my cardio workout. Brandon heads to the hotel to check in and take a long nap while I work my ass off. It’s really good to have him here. I already feel better knowing he’s here and he has my back—whether I’m right or wrong. He’ll tell me, he’ll help me, and he’ll be fair about it.
For all the sibling rivalry we’ve had in our lives, he’s proven where his loyalties lie.
With Andi.
Fine. He’s always done what’s best for me, even if I’ve always questioned his motives. Time to man up and admit the truth. After I show him the photos, if he still thinks Andi’s innocent, I’ll have to seriously reconsider my assumptions. If he agrees with me, I’ll know I made the right choice, and I’ll leave her behind me for good.
After my workout is finally over, I head back to the hotel and find my new suite is already in order. Brandon’s crashed on the couch, and the man I assume to be John is in the kitchen when I walk in. He’s definitely a former boxer and he still keeps himself in shape. Another heavyweight, he still has that killer countenance about him. He’s tall and muscular with short blond hair.
Approaching him, I extend my hand. “Luke Woods.”
“John Lane. Good to meet you,” he replies, shaking my hand.
“Something smells good. You said you’re my nutritionist, but I didn’t know you’re a cook, too.”
“Yeah, well, I have to make sure you eat it,” he laughs. “You’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t. You wouldn’t like me when I’m hurt,” he adds with a mean, serious tone before breaking out into a smile.
“If it tastes half as good as it smells, I’m sure I’ll eat every bite of it,” I reply.
“Man, I’m starving. What’s for lunch?” Brandon asks from behind me.
“I guess you two have met since you were just drooling on my couch,” I smirk at Brandon.
“I don’t drool,” he retorts dryly, cutting his eyes at me. “And yes, we met at the ass-crack of dawn when the desk clerk said my room wasn’t ready. John was getting the key to your suite and offered to let me nap on the couch for a while.”
