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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LUKE
Comingdown off the high of winning a fight like that is nearly impossible. Seeing Andi in the ring hugging Shane for winning his fight and then returning to her seat with Travis comes pretty damn close, though. Part of me thought she’d be here to watch Shane’s fight, and a secret part of me wished she’d be here to watch me fight, too. But none of me wanted Travis to be here for any of it.
My only consolation in his being here is that he now has up close and personal knowledge of the kind of damage I can do to his pretty-boy face. Let’s see how his next concert goes when he can’t even speak, much less sing, after having his jaw broken.
Watching Andi leave the arena with Travis kills me. I want nothing more than to run to catch her and carry her back to my room and make her talk to me. I’ve called her and texted her, but she hasn’t answered me at all. I don’t know how she can stand just ignoring me unless she’s really over me. Being wrapped up in America’s most wanted bachelor probably helped with that.
Mack and Joe have a mandatory meeting set up with their boxers in the locker room immediately after the main event, so I can’t leave the premises yet. I’m so juiced up now that I could jump back in the ring and take on the next guy with no trouble. Sitting still is driving me fucking crazy. At least Syndi had a phone call to make so I have a few minutes alone. I decide to use this time to my advantage.
“John, I have to go up to the room for a minute,” I lie. “I’ll be back for the meeting with Joe and Mack. Text me if they do it earlier than planned.”
“Okay, no problem,” John agrees.
Going as fast as I can, I make my way up to my suite. Andi has ignored calls from my cell, but I wonder if she’d answer a call from the hotel phone. Hopefully, she’ll think it’s someone else and answer her phone. Just two minutes of her time—that’s all I’m asking. Two minutes for me to beg and plead to get her back.
I’m dying without her.
The elevator takes an eternity to reach my floor. The keycard takes ten tries before it opens my door. Finally, as I race to the hotel cordless phone, I pull my cell out of my pocket to look up Andi’s cell number. Yes, I’m one ofthosepeople—the ones who’d never be able to call anyone if my contacts got wiped out of my phone because I haven’t memorized anyone’s number.
When I open the contact info on my iPhone, I nervously dial her cell number from the hotel phone. My thumb scrolls the screen down as I listen to the ringing, and something odd jumps out at me. At the very bottom of the info screen, it reads “Unblock this Caller.”
What the hell? I’ve never blocked her. Quickly unblocking her, I search for any missed texts or phone calls from her, but there are none.
After the fourth ring, I hear her voice mail pick up, and her sweet voice tells me to leave a message.
“Andi, this is Luke. Please call me. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry. I’m such a jerk, and I want to make it up to you every day for the rest of my life. I don’t want to do this without you—not even one more day. I love you, baby. With all of my heart, I love you. Call me. Please.”
Hanging up, I don’t even care that I sounded like a completely desperate idiot. That shoe fits like a glove. Or whatever.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a slight movement and whirl around to get a better look.
“Syndi, what the hell are you doing in my room again?” I demand.
Her guilty look conveys her nefarious intentions, and being caught trying to sneak out the door undetected is a dead giveaway. I pin her with my deathly stare, and she lowers her eyes in response.
“I needed privacy for a phone call,” she lies.
“And my room is the only private place? How’d you get a key?” I challenge.
“The front desk.” She shrugs. Not a complete lie, but she’s definitely withholding information.
“What’s that in your hand?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. Surely that’s not what I think it is.
She takes a step backward but doesn’t answer me.
“Tell me right now what’s in your hand!” my voice booms.
Opening her hand, the velvet ring box that contains Andi’s engagement ring is on full display.
“Why the hell do you have Andi’s ring?” I ask through gritted teeth. I can feel my jaw muscles ticking, and my blood pressure is climbing quickly.
Sighing, the tears roll down her cheeks. “I was trying to put it back before you realized it was gone,” she admits.
“What? How long have you had it?” I ask, snatching it out of her hand. Opening it, I find the pendant that Andi wore as her part of my dog tag necklace. “Why the fuck do you have her ringandher necklace?”
