“Roman,” I whisper.
“Come on, Jag!” Roman yells. “Move your feet, man!”
“Roman!” I repeat.
“Watch your boyfriend,” he grumbles to me. “Come on, Jag!”
I stare at the stop clock on the wall, willing it to move faster. To give Jagger another break. To give me a chance to shake some sense into him, no matter the cost.
Another loud thump shakes me to my core. My eyes snap back to the ring as Ethan lands another string of jabs to Jagger’s ribs. My gut lurches.
“Five, four, three, two—”Bam, bam!“One!”
The clock buzzes, signifying the end of the round.
Jagger limps back to us. His right eye is swollen from a cut above it, and his bottom lip is split across the center. Rushing onto the mat, I force myself in front of him and grab his face, demanding his full attention. “Jagger, you okay?”
He blinks, forcing himself to focus on me before recognition sparks. “Violet?—”
I push him closer to the edge where Roman has a folding chair waiting. Jagger collapses into it. His chest heaves with every labored breath.
“Jag, what are you doing?” Roman starts.
“I need to talk to him,” I interrupt.
Roman’s expression twists with frustration. “Now’s not the time, Violet.”
“I don’t care if you think it’s the time,” I snap. “I need to talk to him. Alone.”
I’ve never seen Roman pissed, and honestly, I don’t blame him for looking like he’s two seconds from losing his shit on me, but I don’t back down. I can’t. Not now. “Please,” I add, softening my tone in hopes of getting through to him.
Roman only shakes his head. “Violet?—”
“Roman, give us a sec.” Jagger’s words are a mumbled mess. It triggers my fear even more. Does he have a concussion? It’s definitely possible. The realization doesn’t exactly ease my anxiety. This needs to end.Now.
Lifting his hands in the air, Roman backs up a foot or two, giving us some space while also using himself as a shield between us and the rest of the crowd. Satisfied, I turn back to my battered boyfriend while attempting to block out the timer on the wall and what it means if I can’t snap Jagger out of his funk. Pushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead, I demand, “Jagger, look at me.”
His cold gaze turns hot as embers.
“Whatever you’re doing, I need you to stop,” I whisper.
“Vi—”
“I’m serious, Jagger,” I push. “Whatever it is, however you think you’re helping, you aren’t. Do you understand?"
“I’m taking care of?—”
I shake my head, refusing to let him voice his twisted logic. “I can’t watch you get hurt. Not like this.”
“Vi—”
“It’s ruining me.” I hold both sides of his face, staring at the bead of crimson as it bleeds into his sweat. “I know you, Jagger.” Gently, I brush the droplet away with the pad of my thumb and flick my attention to his dark gaze, determined to stay strong no matter how much I want to cry. “Stop holding back. Do you understand me? I won’t let you sacrifice this for me.”
“Little Thief…”
I kiss him softly, careful not to hurt him. My lips tremble at the gentle contact. “The only thing I care about is you. You andonlyyou.” I leave the rest unspoken, well-aware he knows me enough to fill in the blanks. To piece together my meaning even if I’m not saying it out loud. Whatever deal he made withEthan Morgan for me or my house can go to hell. Raising his taped knuckles, I kiss them, too, holding his cold gaze with every brush of my lips. “No more holding back, okay?” I wipe the tear from my cheek that somehow managed to slip past my defenses despite my best attempt to keep it at bay. “No more holding back. I love you. We clear?”
With a slow nod, he murmurs, “Love you, too.”
