Outmatched

“Let’s get you home.”

Looking over at Rhys, I sighed. “You don’t have to see me home. I can get a cab.”

His expression tightened for some reason. “I’ll see you home.”

As soon as the cool night air hit, I felt a wave of exhaustion rush over me. “Well … that was fun.”

“You know your boy Ren is in love with you, right?”

The idea made me guffaw.

My reaction did not make Rhys happy, or I was misinterpreting the way his jaw muscle ticked as he clenched his teeth.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve known Ren since freshman year of college. We’re best friends. He has a long-term girlfriend who is lovely and intelligent. Trust me, he’s not in love with me. He’s more like an overprotective big brother.”

“You know, for a smart woman, you’re fucking clueless sometimes.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What is your problem tonight?”

“Who’s Theo?” he asked instead.

My breath stuttered. “Rhys—”

“Ren might be a dick, but he brought up a good point. He knows you better than I do, and if we’re really going to sell this, you need to start telling me shit that’s real. Like who’s Theo?”

“Ren is not a dick.”

“Parker.”

Hearing the warning in Rhys’s voice, I looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t used that tone with me since before we signed our contract.

Cursing Ren to hell, I let out a shaky breath. How could I put much-needed distance between me and Rhys if I confided deep, emotional history to him? “It’s not relevant.”

“I think it is, if your boy is making such a big deal about it. My guess … Theo is some rich little fucker who screwed you over. Is that why you don’t have a man? You don’t trust guys ’cause of a first love gone bad?”

The memory of Theo still caused a deep ache in my chest, and Rhys’s supposition left a bad taste in my mouth. “He died,” I blurted out. “He was my childhood sweetheart. We grew up in the same town, started dating when we were twelve. He was my first everything.” I turned toward him as he drew to a halt beside me. “I loved him in a way I thought I would get to for the rest of my life. Until one night when we were seventeen, he walked home from a friend’s party, drunk, on a dark country road, and a car hit him. And they left him there to die by the side of the road.” Tears burned in my eyes, but I fought them back. “He was my best friend … and then he was just gone.”

“Jesus, fuck …” Rhys suddenly pulled me into his arms, and I didn’t stop to think before I rested my head on his chest and slid my arms around his back. “Tink, I’m so sorry.”

We were silent a while, just holding each other in the middle of the street, until I felt his arms tighten. His voice carried softly down to me. “My best friend died too.” The words sounded torn from him. “I watched him die in a bout. Jake. We grew up together. He was like a brother to me. And … there was nothing I could do. One minute he was alive … and the next, I watched the light go out of his eyes.”

He shuddered against me and I dug my fingers into his shoulder blades, wishing I could dig the pain right out of him. I tilted my head back and the agony I saw behind all the cocky charm and humor in his eyes made my heart squeeze.

“Rhys,” I whispered, hating to see someone so big, capable, and strong filled with so much grief.

“He left behind a wife and kid. Marcy and Rose. The fucking sport I loved tore away my brother, tore away Marcy’s husband, Rose’s dad.” He shook his head, fighting his emotion. “First time someone called me the Widowmaker after he died … I threw up.”

“Rhys.” I pushed deeper into him.

Now I knew. I knew why he couldn’t get back in that ring.

“So I get it to a certain extent.” He caressed my cheek, his eyes following the trail his fingers made across my skin. “I get how it feels to lose your best friend. To not be able to move on.”

And I realized he did. Gently extricating myself from his embrace, I reached for his hand. “I don’t think not going back to fighting is an inability to move on, Rhys. It’s a choice you made. A choice you should be proud of.” At the abject surprise on his face, I curled my hand around his and gripped it tight. “I can’t imagine the expectations people had of you as a champion … but I can imagine that those expectations weighed heavily on your shoulders. To turn your back on that, to do what was right for you, to follow your gut … Rhys, that takes more courage than putting on those gloves and getting in that ring.”