Fighting for What's His (Warrior Fight Club 2)

“Of course, I have to worry about you. You’re my friend.” The word was so wholly inadequate as to be ridiculous. But it was the best word she had. The parameter they’d both agreed to.

“Right. Well, friend, I appreciate it, but I’m good.” He dropped the milk back into the fridge.

“You’re bleeding. And your shoulder’s open again.” A knot of emotion lodged in her throat. She was truly worried about him. And she wasn’t sure he should be alone. But she also couldn’t be the one to stay with him. Not that she was sure he’d want her to if she could, given his strange mood.

Billy just shrugged. “Gonna go get some sleep.”

She frowned again. This was just all so unlike him. “You don’t have to work?”

“I will later,” he said in that same monotone.

“What about the conversation you said you wanted to have with me?”

He paused at the bottom of the staircase. “Just, uh, just forget I said anything about that.” He disappeared up the steps.

She stood there staring and wondering what the hell had just happened. Glancing down at the counter she saw her now-cold bagel and the apple she’d been peanut-buttering. She ate a few slices of the latter, but her stomach was so in knots that she couldn’t finish.

On a deep breath, she went upstairs. And found Billy leaning against the doorjamb to her room.

“Why don’t you let me clean up some of those cuts?” she said. “At least the one on your shoulder. If your shirt sticks to it—”

“You’re packed,” he said. Had he even heard her? Or was he purposely ignoring her?

She rubbed at her forehead, where a headache was spreading like spilled ink. “Yeah, I just figured I’d get a head start—”

“Maybe you should go today then.”

Shayna’s heart stopped. For a moment, she would’ve sworn it did. And then it restarted in a booming beat that made her tremble. “You want me to go?”

Still peering into her room—and not even deigning to face her—he shrugged with one big shoulder, as if it didn’t matter to him either way.

It would’ve hurt less if he’d stabbed her with the butter knife she’d been using.

“Wow. I feel bad for whatever happened to you, Billy, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you being an asshole.” She crossed her arms and bore a death glare into the back of his head.

He finally turned to look at her. “I kinda specialize in asshole, Shayna, so all the more reason for you to go.”

She flinched. That was how hard the words hit her. And they cut her even deeper.

“Fine. I’ll ask Mo to meet me here after my event.” Her eyes had the weirdest stinging sensation. Like she needed to cry but couldn’t. Like he’d stunned her so badly that her body wasn’t functioning right.

Something flashed behind Billy’s dark eyes. For just a moment, she would’ve sworn it had. But then it was gone again. And there was just the two of them facing off in the hallway. The same place their story had started a month before

Except all the hopefulness she’d felt then was gone. And all she had in its place was a broken heart. One she’d thought couldn’t have shattered any more than it already had two years before.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

Without saying another word, she marched past him to where her camera bags sat laid out on the foot of her bed.

No, his bed. Get it right, Shayna.

She did a quick double check of her equipment, making sure she had a decent variety of lenses, sufficient batteries, her notebook, and her Nikon D850 in case she wanted to grab some video, too.

Shayna was good to go. In every way.

Billy was still standing near the doorway when she turned around. An ache bloomed harder in the center of her chest—hard enough it nearly stole her breath. So she forced her gaze away and left.

She had a job to do today and she wasn’t letting anyone get in her way.