Helping Hands Shelter and Community Center.
“I know this place. Mitch Elliott is friends with the people who run it.”
“The Dagby’s,” Aug supplied.
He stared at his trainer. How would Aug know that?
“Yeah, Mitch named his first food truck after Louise Dagby.”
“Louise and Ralph Dagby run the shelter,” Aug added. He parked the car, grabbed a plastic bag from the center console, and got out.
“What are we doing here, Aug?” he asked, exiting the vehicle. “Am I signing autographs?”
“Take this,” Aug said, handing him…a tiny net?
“What do you want me to do with it?” he asked, pulling at the elastic rim.
“It’s a hairnet. You put it on your head.”
“You okay, Aug? Are you off your rocker, mate?” he asked, stretching the thing out in his hands.
“I’m peachy keen. Come on,” the man said, starting for the door.
They entered the center’s vestibule, and Aug waved him to follow as the man set off down a hallway.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
“Yep,” Aug shot back. “This is the part of the center for kids and teens.”
Raz was ready to ask another question when they passed a room, and he recognized a man huddled around a laptop with a trio of teenagers.
“Rowen?” he uttered.
“Excuse me, Augie, do you have a second?” a man asked, walking toward them.
“Give me a minute, Raz,” Aug said, then met the man further down the hall.
Raz stood in the doorway, and Rowen came over.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, not expecting to see the nerd.
“Teaching a class on coding. My company is shut down for the week to give the employees time off. How are you, man? We’ve tried to get ahold of you.”
“I’ve been training hard. I unplugged from everything.”
Rowen nodded. “Are you ready for the fight? Mitch, Landon, and I plan on heading out soon for the weigh-in.”
Raz released a slow exhale. “I’m as ready as I can be.” He shifted his stance and ran his hands through his hair, wanting to ask about Libby.
“She’s doing all right, Raz,” Rowen said, reading his mind.
“She is?” he rasped. “You’ve seen her?”
“She’s staying at the apartment in the Gale Gaming building. She’s been laying low because of your arrangement.”
Because they’d agreed not to say anything to Sebastian.
Ice trickled down his spine.
“I’m not sure if I should tell you this,” Rowen began, “but Penny and the girls saw her yesterday.”
“And?” Raz asked, perking up, eager for any morsel of information.
“And Penny says she got offered a great business opportunity, and she even contacted her dad. They’re getting together tomorrow. Penny says that’s a pretty big deal for Libby.”
Jesus!
“Yeah, it’s huge. So, she’s okay?” he asked, working to keep the emotion from his voice.
“Penny used the words balanced and peaceful to describe her. But she’s taking a page and decided to unplug until after the fight.” Rowen shifted his stance. “Is it over between the two of you?”
It hurt like hell to hear those words uttered out loud.
“I don’t know what we are. But I want her to be okay. I want her to be happy,” he rattled off, saying all the right things.
“Is that all you want?” Rowen asked when Phoebe zoomed over to her uncle and skidded to a stop.
“Hey, Raz!” Phoebe beamed, donning a hot dog headband.
“Hey, Phoebe.”
“Say hi to Sebastian for me and tell him to save me some apples,” the child directed.
“Okay?” Raz answered, not sure what to make of Phoebe’s request when the girl tugged on Rowen’s sleeve.
“Uncle Row, how do you spell bureau?”
“Why do you need to spell that? We’re teaching the kids to code.”
Phoebe adjusted her headband. “I was taking a break and showing them how to hack into sites. I need to spell bureau for the Federal Bureau of—”
Rowen’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Raz, I’ve got to take care of this before Federal agents come for my niece,” the man sputtered before sprinting to a computer terminal. “See you at the weigh-in.”
“You ready?” Aug called from down the hall.
“Did you know Rowen Gale volunteered here?”
“Yeah.”
“Libby’s staying at an apartment in his building.”
“Is she?” Aug replied nonchalantly.
“He says she’s doing well, but she’s turned off her phone and decided to unplug.”
Bloody hell, he sounded like an idiot.
“I know a bloke who’s done the same thing,” Aug threw back, raising an eyebrow.
Touché.
He couldn’t blame Libby for wanting to shut out the hype, especially after he shut her out. He pressed his hand against his pocket and felt the tiny box, his heart pounding. God, he missed her. He wanted to know more, wanted to congratulate her on her business deal. He wanted….
He caught himself.
He wanted…
He wanted…
He wanted…
It was all about him.
“Raz, I believe you know Louise Dagby,” his trainer said as the woman who opened Helping Hands with her husband met them in the hallway.
“It’s good to see you, Erasmus. Thank you for putting us in contact with the charities in the UK for the Mr. Cheesy Forever program. I’m not sure if I ever got to thank you in person for that. It’s been a whirlwind of activity here at Helping Hands.”
“Is that true, Erasmus?” Aug questioned with a curious look in his eyes.
Raz waved the woman off. “I’m glad I could help. I didn’t do much besides connect Mitch with a few charitable organizations in London.”
“Isn’t that ironic,” Aug said, sharing a look with Louise.
Raz glanced between the pair. “How is it ironic?”
“Come with me,” Louise said, gesturing for them to walk with her down the hall.
He followed behind Aug and Louise when another familiar voice floated through the air. No, more like several familiar voices. They walked through an atrium, and he glanced over to find his sisters, his granny, and Madelyn Malone chatting with a tall older man.
His jaw dropped. What was this? A family reunion?
“What are they doing here?”
“Your grandmother and Madelyn are showing your sisters around,” Louise answered.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Louise, but what would my sisters want to see here?”
His sisters glared at him. Yep, he was still in the doghouse over Sebastian’s birthday and for being MIA these past few days. They also adored Libby. He flashed them the international big brother eyes for what the bloody hell is going on? But they didn’t give him anything—not a smile, not a scowl, nothing.
There was another strike against their wanker brother.
He’d sort it out after he won.
He continued, following a step behind Aug and Louise, when he encountered another familiar sound. Luckily, this noise wasn’t a bunch of women who wanted to kick his arse all the way back to East London. It was the pop and thud of padded gloves meeting a stuffed bag. It was the flick of a jump rope, tapping the ground. It was the rumble of heated breaths and the slide of trainers gripping the floor.