Survivor (First to Fight #2)

I open my mouth to protest, but his arms hold tight around me. “Let me finish,” he says firmly. His fingers flirt with mine and I keep silent. “I can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it. When I thought about what my life would be like after training, it was always a life that included you at the finish line. That doesn’t mean we need to get married right away, though I should let you know now, straight up, that that’s in the cards for me when it comes to you. But, I also want you to go to college, have that experience. I would never want to take that away from you.”

My eyes flick down to my hands. I want to believe him, I do. Four years apart is a long time, though, and one of us has to be realistic. The words tumble from my lips out of pure self-preservation. “But what about us?”

His hand comes up to frame my face, holding me in place, his touch stilling my racing thoughts. I feel my body curving toward him, a question seeking its answer. “We’ll make it work. What I feel for you…I know it’ll be worth waiting for.”

Jack: Are you back yet?

Sofie: About an hour away. What are you doing?

Jack: Staring at a bunch of half-naked dudes. Send help.

Sofie: Am now jumping out of the car and running like the Flash.

Jack: Help is on the way

Sofie: :O) How’d the tournament go?

Jack: It was all right. Dad wasn’t kidding about being worn out. Worried about him.

Sofie: He’ll be ok. How’d your guys do?

Jack: Dunno, but that Alvarez guy is getting on my last nerve.

Sofie: You’re just pissed about the other day.

Jack: Maybe. He just rubs me the wrong way.

Sofie: I’ll be back soon to rescue you.

Jack: FYI, I prefer my knight-in-shining armor to be naked.

Sofie: Ok, damsel. It’s a date. ;)

My smile fades as I put my phone back into the cup holder. I was so prepared to hate Tulane, but it was love at first sight. New Orleans had been teeming with life and culture, worlds different from Nassau. And a world away from Jack.

Was it possible to cheat on your boyfriend with a college education? Probably not, but it sure felt like it. A combination of shame and deep-seated pleasure. Or at least, what I imagine cheating would feel like.

“What’s the matter with you?” Mom asks, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. “Fancy school. Scholarship.” She smiles. “You should be happy.”

Schooling my features, I say, “I am, it’s great.”

“Even though I wish you could stay closer, go to the community college, I know this is something you’ve been looking forward to.”

“I know, Mom. But you and the boys can come visit.”

She doesn’t understand the need to get out of Nassau. After my dad died, she began an active campaign to keep me by her side. If left up to her, I’d stay in town, marry some guy and spit out a couple of kids who’d do the same. This weekend was like a glimpse into someone else’s life—a future I’d only dreamed of, but wanted for so long.

As our car eats up the remaining miles, I blow out a breath and lean heavily against the window, watching the scenery fly by. He’s the only thing I’d regret leaving. Attending Tulane would guarantee we’d be apart for the next four years, and that’s if I don’t decide to go to graduate school. That’s not even including the added stress of a long-distance relationship. He could deploy. He could be stationed overseas.

Olivia had joked about Jack proposing, but it’s something his noble heart would do. He’d want to provide for me, be there for me. He may try to exude the hardass persona, but underneath all that swagger is a gooey center. He’s made no secret of the fact that he wants the whole shebang: kids, picket fence, house in the suburbs.

The mere thought of marriage makes me shudder and wrap my arms around my waist. The last thing I want is to end up like my mom, alone and unable to move on because the one person who completes her is gone. We pass the sign announcing we’re entering Nassau city limits and I wipe my palms on my jeans.

I drop Mom off at home and head straight to the gym. I find him with another fighter training in the ring. For a while, I just watch him. Really, it’s no chore. Sometimes, when it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve seen him, I start to forget what he looks like. The picture of him I hold in my head fades, growing more and more blurry with each passing day. Video chatting isn’t the same. Most of the time it’s just a quick call to say hello when we both manage to sync a few spare minutes in our schedules.

He’s talking to a guy in the ring, leaning across the ropes. He gestures wildly with his arms, his thick brows pulled down and his full, sensual mouth a firm line. If there was ever a man who could convince me to throw away my dreams, it’s him.

“Hey, Jack’s girl. How’s it going?” comes a gruff voice from beside me.

I turn and find Damian Alverez standing beside me as he mops his face with a rag. Looking back at Jack, I say, “Great, just waiting for Jack. You?”

“Same old, same old.”

“How was the tournament?” He moves closer, enough that I can smell the soap from his shower. I immediately want to take a couple steps back to keep the space between us, but I shake the instinct off. I’m being silly. This is Jack’s friend.

“I got rolled the first round, but we got a couple more to go.” He smiles and the cut on his cheek winks. “Just warming up.”

“I’m sure you’ll do better next round. Jack says you’re killer in the ring.”

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