16. Jude
16
jude
I came on too strong. I pushed too hard. Too fast. What the hell was wrong with me?
So I let her go.
I could have very well chased her down the mountain, all the way to her gate. Fuck the airline security. I’d make this a damn ’90s rom-com for her if I could.
But I chose not to.
My therapist said it was because I thought I deserved abandonment, that I wasn’t worth sticking around for. Not even my own mother thought I had been worth it. Romy seemed to just confirm that belief.
“You know you could just call her?” Alex suggested as I hit mile four on the rowing machine.
“Yeah, I know,” I grunted out.
Uncle Chuck offered me Romy’s number as soon as we escorted Frank off the property. But I simply shook my head without saying a word and retreated. Once again, I had scared her off. She chose to leave without saying goodbye, and I didn’t think I could handle the rejection right now.
Show your cards and you get burned.
Maybe one of these days, I’d learn.
It had been a week since she left. Uncle Chuck and Coach were getting tired of watching me mope around. I threw all of my pent-up frustration into working out, cleaning stalls, and repairing fences.
I made Alex do it with me. He committed all his gusto into helping me, just like any task he took on. And he was fucking cheerful doing it! I was going to knock that perfect, little smirk off his face if he kept this up.
It was obnoxious .
“Afraid she won’t pick up?” Alex sat on the bench press, his arms resting on his knees, watching the mileage on the console.
Alex Torres looked like the happiest guy in the world when he stepped out of his black, rental Expedition, his Versace duffel bag draped across his chest. His perfectly white smile gleamed brighter when he took in a big whiff of high desert air, bragging about renting the most quintessential mountain cabin. I don’t think he’d ever been in a place that wasn’t sunny and hot 24/7, evidenced by his perma-tan. He absolutely did not know how to pack for an Oregon spring. The man brought shorts and T-shirts.
Even now, as he oversaw my workout in the garage, he was wearing a pair of my sweats, the hoodie pulled up tight over his face. He may have to grow a beard if he wanted to keep his face warm, too.
“This is classic Romy,” I told him between reps. “I know she won’t fuckin’ pick up.”
Apparently, this was classic Jude, too. Me wanting something so badly I go balls to the walls, only to be left feeling rejected.
“You don’t seem okay with it. Won’t even talk to me about this fight.”
“No, I’m not fucking okay,” I asserted.
At least I could be honest that I wasn’t okay. That’s growth, right?
“Venture’s expecting my call. What do I tell him? We have eight weeks. It’s already going to be a short camp.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” I whined. Mile five was the worst!
Alex shoved off his knees, coming to stand beside me. “You should go to her since we’re obviously not getting anything done. Sort out your shit with her, and as soon as you’re back, we’ll hit Vegas for your eight-week training camp.”
“I’m not going to Vegas.”
The ranch needed me. Uncle Chuck needed me. And someone had to keep Lina and Reed from biting each other’s heads off. And, what if she came back …
“Figured as much.” Alex released a deep exhale. “What if I propose we do our training here—at the ranch?”
Mile five. Done.
I stopped to look at him. “What?”
Sweat dripped in my eyes. My muscles were on fire.
He was giving me that straight, white smile of his, dimples popping.
“But you need to push this to the side for now. Just temporarily until after the fight. No distractions. Having this Romy shit hanging over your head … Your mental game needs to be on point, 100 percent.”
“The ‘Romy shit’ isn’t hanging over my head,” I seethed. I didn’t like what he implied or the sound of Romy’s name coming out of his mouth.
“Don’t start lying to yourself, too,” Alex said. “I need you to be ‘The Bull’ right now, or a shortened camp isn’t going to work.”
“You’re an annoying asshole, you know that?”
“I’ve been told that a time or two. So here’s the thing—I’d like to think I’m a pretty good sleuth when it comes to internet stalking. Like, do you remember that one time, when we found out that girl you were talking to was totally catfishing you?”
I rolled my eyes and groaned. “Don’t remind me. Another reason why I stay off social media now. I was an idiot.”
“That you were. But that’s beside the point. The point is, I’m a damn good detective when it comes to finding someone on the internet.”
I huffed. The man didn’t need any detective skills to find women. They came to him.
“Well,” he continued, “I figured out where she teaches.”
My breath caught in my throat. “I don’t know whether I should pummel you or thank you.”
Alex brushed me off. “You can thank me later. If she’s not going to answer your calls, you might as well just show up.”
“At the school where she teaches? Are you insane? I don’t think so.” Hell, no. I wasn’t about to waltz into a middle school and demand that the girl I was hung up on talk to me. At her place of work, mind you.
“Figured out the school schedule, too. It’s posted on their website. The last day of school is on Thursday, and teachers have a workday on Friday to pack up for the summer. You can show up after she gets off, meet her in the parking lot—let’s say three o’clock, right after your 1:45 plane lands in San Jose?—”
“Fuck! You didn’t!” I grabbed the towel off the barbell rack, scrubbing the sweat off my face.
“You can thank me by accepting this fight.” He was grinning as if he already knew he’d won.
“You’re not giving me much choice, are you?”
Alex shrugged. “It was a matter of time. I was just speeding up the process. We need to start training now if you’re going to beat Reyes in August.”
I sighed, waving my white towel in surrender. She wasn’t going to come back with me, but maybe it would give me the closure I needed all these years.
“When does the flight take off?”
“Eleven thirty boarding time Friday morning.” He retrieved his phone from his pocket, immediately going into his email to forward the boarding pass to me.
“Fine. I guess you better call Mr. Venture.”