“I do. Where are the restrooms?” I asked, needing to escape the tension swirling around us.
“Back through the main room and down the entrance hall where we came in. They’re on the left. I can show you?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sure I can handle it.”
I excused myself and backtracked through the building, passing Miles on the way. Finding the women’s restroom was easy enough, but the second I stepped back out into the hall, that tingling sensation trickled through me again.
I quickly scanned the hall, but it was empty. Some inner sense pulled me toward the window wall that fronted the building. It overlooked the small parking lot and the road beyond that. Celeste’s Range Rover was parked in between two cars probably belonging to the other people bowling.
But it wasn’t their car that caught my attention. Because there, hidden under an overhanging tree was a car that was all too familiar.
Before I could think about the consequences, I rushed over to the door and ripped it open, storming outside. It was his car.
He was here.
Nix was here.
I couldn’t breathe.
My heart was stuck in my chest, my lungs tightening with every step.
He was here.
He’s here.
But when I reached his car, it was empty.
Was this some cruel joke? I reached out to touch it, to run my finger along the hood and make sure it wasn’t my mind playing tricks. That I wasn’t hallucinating. But the paintwork was cool to the touch, smooth and slick beneath my palm.
Real.
It was real.
Which meant, he was here somewhere. Nix was here.
He was—
“Hello, Birdie.”
Two little words.
So soft and innocent.
Yet they hit me like bullets, tearing through skin and muscle, embedding themselves in my soul, shattering something vital.
I turned slowly and fast all at the same time. My eyes landed on him and I breathed, “Nix.”
He was here.
Standing in front of me.
Real. Alive. Here.
And I didn’t know what the hell to do with that.
Nix
“What are you doing here?” She sounded the same, yet something was different.
“I… I had to know,” I said, stepping forward, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
She instantly retreated, her eyes darting around me, flicking beyond me. Looking for a way out. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Ouch. That hurt.
It fucking stung.
“After all this time, that’s what you say to me?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “What did you expect?”
My brows drew together as I tried to find my balance. Because seeing her, hearing her voice, it did things to me. Dark, dangerous things. She’d always been my kryptonite, but this was different.
We were different.
“So it’s true. You’re one of them now?”
“Nix.” She sighed. A soft, exasperated sound that cut me down. As if I was an annoyance. Nothing more than dirt under her shoe.
Fuck.
Zane was right. It was a mistake coming here. I should have been content with watching her at the park from a safe distance.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, fiddling with her sleeve. No, not fiddling with it I realized, but more like stroking it.
“It’s a free country, Birdie.” I shrugged, my lip curling. “Just because I don’t drive a brand-new car or have a fat wallet doesn’t mean I can’t be here.”
“I didn’t…” She stopped herself, inhaling a deep breath and whispering something to herself. When she refocused her attention back on me, there was something cold in her gaze. “You should go. I have to get back to my friends.” Harleigh moved around me, keeping a wide berth, and headed back toward the building.
“So that’s it, huh?” I called after her, frustration bleeding from every word. “That’s all you’ve got to say to me?”
Drawing to a sharp stop, she spun around and narrowed her eyes at me. “Nothing,” she said. “I have nothing to say to you. Go back to The Row, Nix. And never come back here.”
“Fuck that,” I snapped. “We aren’t done—”
“Harleigh?” The half-sister appeared. “What’s going on?”
“N-nothing.” Harleigh didn’t meet my heavy stare. Instead she grabbed the girl’s arm and led her to the door.
“Who was that?” she asked, but Harleigh ignored her and yanked her back inside.
Fuck.
That could have gone better. But I’d fucked up the second I followed them here. I should have stayed in the car, should have listened to the little voice telling me it a was huge fucking mistake. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
I needed to see her.
No one had batted an eyelid at the hooded guy hanging out, watching the three kids in the back. Harleigh hadn’t joined in with her friends. She’d sat alone, engrossed with something on her cell phone.
I’d planned to skip out unnoticed when she disappeared into the restroom. But I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t walk away.
I hadn’t expected her to spot my car, to storm outside and… what? Confront me?
It had hardly been a confrontation. She’d barely said ten words to me. But every single one of them had cut me open.
I needed to go—needed to get the fuck out of here before things really went to shit.
So I got in my car and left.
I met Zane and Kye at Buster’s after all. They were busy with the free weights as I blew through the place, heading straight for Bryson, the owner.
“Wilder, didn’t expect to see you here tonight. The guys said—”
“I need to get in the ring,” I said.
Pushing my body to its limits in the gym wasn’t going to cut it. I needed more. I needed it to hurt.
“Come on, Nix. Last time I let you go at it, you almost killed my guy.”
“Always did have a flair for the dramatic.” I rolled my eyes. “He was fine.”
“You shattered his jaw.”
“I’d had a bad day.” I’d had a lot of those in junior year. “Guys know what they’re signing up for when they train here.”
Busters wasn’t your average gym. It was hardcore. You only got in Bryson’s ring if you were comfortable sparring without gloves or head gear.
“I don’t know, Nix. I don’t need you scaring off—”
“I’ll spar with him.” Some meathead tipped his head at me. I’d seen him around but didn’t know him to talk to, preferring to keep to myself. Outside of Zane and Kye, I didn’t have many friends, and I liked it that way.
“You’re on,” I said, cutting Bryson out of the conversation. He threw his hands up and grumbled, “Fine. But don’t expect me to peel you off the canvas when Sy beats your ass.”
“This is a bad idea,” Zane called over to me as I started to wrap my knuckles.
I ignored him and pulled off my hoodie and t-shirt. Meathead ran a cool, assessing gaze over me, giving a small unimpressed huff as he climbed up into the ring. Asshole would pay for that. For underestimating me.
Not that I really gave a shit.