I looked around the mostly empty boxing gym. It was Monday evening, and one of the nights the restaurant was closed during the week. I always went a little stir-crazy when I wasn’t working. I needed to be doing something with my hands, or I’d wind up . . .
I let go of those thoughts and surrendered, heading for the heavyweight bag. “Fine.”
“Does your stress have anything to do with the fact Maria is going on a date tonight?” he asked once opposite the black bag.
I went still at Ryan’s words, and he closed one eye as if preparing for a swing to the face. “She’s what?”
“Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you that?” He snatched the sides of the bag and tipped his head, a request to pound it and not him.
I made a come-hither motion, shaking my head. “Too late. Details. Now.”
Maria had told me three weeks ago on her birthday that she had planned to date again, but she hadn’t brought up that she was dating again. I’d hoped a lot more time would pass before the dreaded day came.
Ryan’s shoulders fell, and he let go of the bag. “Talia’s gonna have my head anyway, I see.” He dragged his gloved hand over his bearded jawline, his eyes on the mat beneath his bare feet. “Tonight is Thomas’s night with Chiara, and Maria was asked out, so she said yes. I’m sorry, man. You can’t expect her to wait around forever.”
I let go of a gruff breath and struck the bag so hard, it nearly slammed into Ryan. He caught it between his palms and looked around it with narrowed eyes.
“I can’t be with her.” I flicked my wrist, a demand to release the bag so I could hit it again, but he held it hostage between his gloved palms.
“You really think you can watch her date? And what happens when she brings a guy home? You’re not going to break down the door and kill the guy?”
The fact she’d been with only one man in her life and it hadn’t been me made me insane. But Maria was right, and Chiara wouldn’t exist if I’d crossed the line six years ago. “I promised Maria I wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“No cutting hands off her dates, either?” He smirked, and I knew he remembered the threat I’d made to that son of a bitch last year who’d thought it was okay to put his hands on a woman without consent.
“I wouldn’t have actually cut off his hands.” Well, probably not.
Ryan’s smile dissolved, turning into a solemn look. “Clearly, you’re worried about your past. But I know whatever happened in New York that you haven’t shared with me can’t be dangerous. You’d never have risked coming to Charlotte in the first place if it were. You wouldn’t work at Talia’s or live next door to Maria if being near you threatened them.”
No, my past wasn’t dangerous. I wasn’t one to leave loose ends. Ryan was right, I’d never jeopardize their safety if I thought I was a risk to be around.
“Don’t do what I did and wait too long. Life is short.” He released the bag and began removing his gloves, letting me know he was done. “If you’re worried about starting a relationship with secrets, then tell her the truth. See how she reacts.”
“She doesn’t need to know I have blood on my hands,” I said in a low voice, referring to one of the things Ryan did know about, the fact my brothers and I killed the man who’d murdered Bianca. Where the justice system had failed my sister, we’d vowed not to. “And there’s more to it than that. I just . . .”
“Just what?” Ryan tossed his gloves in his gym bag as a text on my Apple Watch popped up.
Maria: I need to see you. Can you come over?
“It’s Maria,” I shared as he pulled his shirt over his head. “She needs me.”
“She does need you. And I hope you come to your senses soon and realize you are good enough for her.” Ryan patted me twice on the shoulder. “Go. I’ll see you later.”
I removed my gloves and grabbed a tee from my bag, covering my sweaty chest. “Tell Talia hey, and thanks for taking the, uh, beating today.” I smirked.
“Just glad you found out about the dating news after we stopped sparring.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, telling me to get a move on.
We bumped fists as our goodbye, and once my sneakers were on, I grabbed my phone, slung my bag over my shoulder, and started home.
I sent a group text to my brothers, hoping one of them would calm me down before I faced the little hellion who drove me nuts.
Me: She’s going on a date. How do I stop this? My trigger finger is fucking itchy.