In three steps, I’m in his embrace. Not even bears hug this way. I feel enveloped by everything that he is as he whispers, “When can you come with me?” His hands are warm and steady as he tips my face back to his. “Brooke, when?” he softly insists.
“Eighteen days.” An eon. A lifetime.
His eyes flash possessively and he nods deliberately. “I’m here. At ten a.m. on that eighteenth day. Okay?”
What can I even reply? He’s leaving today, and everything is a f**king mess. My eyes sting a little, and I drop my face so he won’t notice.
An angry growl tears out of him as he steps away from me. “FUUUUCK ME WITH THIS!” He grabs fistfuls of his hair and whirls around to Pete. “We back off the season. He’ll let her go once he knows I’m not fighting anymore. And I’m sticking where I’m needed. Call it off until my daughter is born.”
When I realize what he’s doing, I grab him by the thick arms until he looks down at me.
“Remington Tate!” His jaw is set at a determined angle, and I’m overwhelmed with panic. “I promise you by all that I am and all that I feel for you, I won’t let anything, anything, happen to me or this baby. Anything.” I cup his face and run my thumb over the dark stubble of his jaw. “We’re not going to hold you back. I couldn’t live with myself. You. Go out there. And fight. And win. Trust me. I choose you. I love my sister, but I love you more. We will help her when we can, but not at your expense! Not anymore. I’m not going to choose her this time. I choose you.”
He fists his hand in my loose hair and looks directly at me. “I’m not going to make you choose.”
My eyes burn again.
He crushes my mouth in a hard kiss, then stares determinedly into my eyes with a look that blazes through me. “I’ll save her as many times as she needs saving. For you.”
The steely glint in his gaze swamps me with unease. “No,” I moan. “No, we don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”
He clutches me tight. “I’m going to need your mettle out, little firecracker. I need to know you’re safe every second of the day. You don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t answer calls from any numbers but ours and Melanie’s. Don’t receive any packages. Don’t believe anything you read or hear about me. No contact with your sister without my knowledge.”
His eyes flicker over my face, as though he’s making sure I’m all right and unhurt. He then stalks into our bedroom and I follow him as he grabs some clothes and tosses me one of his T-shirts. “I want to talk to them.”
“What? Who?”
“Your parents.” He comes and tips my head back, his jaw set at a determined angle. “I brought you here to be safe, guarded, taken care of. I want to talk to your parents. I want them to look me in the eye and give me their word they’re taking care of you. I’m posting a guard at your door, one at the building elevators, and one inside your place—don’t argue with me,” he stops me before I can start.
I cover my face with an angry sound of frustration. “Why are we talking about me? I’m worried about you!” I cry, dropping my hands. “He wants to f**k you, Remington. I swear if anyone hurts you I’m going to hurt them back tenfold!”
He pats my rump. “I’m a big boy. Now let’s go meet your parents.”
“I couldn’t survive what you did last time! It’s her decision now.”
“This won’t be like last time.”
WE WAIT FOR my parents in my living room.
I’ve gone through everything in my head, wanting to protect them, wanting to protect Nora, but in the end, I just don’t feel like lying for anyone or to anyone anymore. My parents deserve the truth, even if it hurts. I won’t sit by and watch them judge and withhold any affection from Remington because they believe he will hurt me, when I, I was the one who hurt him with my false sense of heroism wanting to save my sister.
God, but what if she’s unsavable?
What if she’s so far in that she will never come out, and if she does, what if, like a true junkie, she falls back in, over and over again?
When my parents arrive, they hardly look at me—their eyes fly straight behind me and up to Remington’s face.
My father bristles. “You’re her boyfriend? You’re the one who knocked her up, then dumped her on our doorstep?”
Remington walks around me, a tower looking down at my dad. “Yes, that’s me.” He puts his hand on my stomach, adding, “It better be me.”
I expel a breath. “It’s you. Now, let’s all relax a bit.”
“I’m not relaxed,” Remy counters in that low voice of his as he eyes my father, then my mother. “She’s been alone. If I’d wanted her to be alone, I wouldn’t have brought her home.”
“I am fine, Remington. Dad, ease back and sit down.” I grab Remy’s wrist and he lets me pull him back and draw him to the sitting area, my parents following. He sits down next to me and splays a hand on my stomach, quiet.
I drag in a breath and look at my parents.
“Mom and Dad, Nora fooled you. She wasn’t traveling the world last season. She was going out with a man they call the Scorpion. She was not in Hawaii or Timbuktu; she was traveling with him, at the same time I was traveling with Remington. Scorpion is a fighter too.”
My mother’s hand flies to her mouth but doesn’t quite manage to smother her distressed little gasp.
“The Scorpion fed Nora drugs and kept her enthralled with him. In order for her to be released, Remy gave away the championship. And I think she might need our help again this year.”
My mother’s eyes dart to my right and up, and my father doesn’t bat an eyelash, for he’s been staring at nothing but Remy the whole time. By the tension of all those muscles next to me, I know Remington is keeping his eyes on him too.
“Oh, Nora,” my mother sighs drearily as she clutches her head.
“You took a dive for little Nora?” my dad suddenly asks him. My father is a coach—and he respects athletes. “Threw the match for her?”
Remy laughs softly and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “No. I threw it for Brooke.”
My dad immediately stands, and in that same instant Remy slowly, in that lionlike way of his, comes to his feet.
“Remington, I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” My father comes around the coffee table and extends his hand. His entire hostility has vanished. He looks a thousand pounds lighter now and even wears a little grin. “I’m Lucas Dumas.”
Remy doesn’t even look at the hand—he immediately takes it and shakes it, hard and firm like he is, his voice gruff with emotion. “I’m Remington.”
THIRTEEN
THE WAIT IS OVER
She left me a message.
In my room the night Remington left, I discovered a note tucked under my pillow.
It’s not what you think. I will be back after the season. I’ve got this. Please don’t come after me!
What. The f**k?
Puzzlement doesn’t even begin to describe my reaction to the note.
I can’t stop reading it. It’s as though I want to read something hidden between each of the scrawled letters, but there’s nothing.
Mom and Dad have been coming over daily, going Nora this, Nora that. They’re used to her being flighty and irresponsible, but on this occasion, they’re very concerned about what we told them. My guess is that the only reason they aren’t completely losing it is because, before Remington left, he asked them to make sure I’m well taken care of, and he’d make sure Nora came back home.