25. Wolf
“Yer gettin’ soft in yer old age, McCleery,” Jedd taunts as I land another combination against the sparring gloves. We’ve been at this for an hour: quick combinations and footwork to prepare me for the last fight of my career. While I may be done with the MMA circuit, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving the cage without a win.
“Fuck off, old man,” I grunt out around my mouthguard, moving through the uppercut hook movement with a little more force than necessary.
“Feckin’ shite, save it fer the cage, ye animal.”
I smirk but continue to do the work my trainer demands of me.
“Alright, drop yer hands. Yer going to do cool down stretches before I kick your sorry arse out of my gym.”
I spit the mouthguard into my hand, working my jaw to loosen the muscles in my face. “You’ll be sobbing on the twenty-fourth like a little baby.”
“I’ll miss havin’ ye around, McCleery, make no mistake. But yer priorities are changin’.”
Nodding, I focus on unwrapping the protective tape from around my knuckles. “I’ll stop by, and you know you’re always welcome at the shop. We need to get those dumbass Irish tats replaced by something more masculine, like the saltire or the Royal Banner of Scotland.” I motion toward his Ireland-themed tattoos.
“Feck off. Yer half Irish, and yer mam would hit ye with a damn shovel if she heard you disrespecting yer heritage.”
“Ladies love Highlanders; I think I’ll claim just that part from now on,” I tease.
“Did I say stretches? I meant sprint intervals on the treadmill.”
Flipping him off, I ignore his last words and step down from the training platform, running right into my worst goddamn nightmare.
“Oh, Wolf, I didn’t realize you were training today,” the woman cloaked in pink yells over the music blaring out of the speakers.
I nod, walking past my ex-girlfriend and toward the yoga mats rolled up in the back of the gym. I hear footsteps following me, and I grit my teeth, praying to every god up there that Kelly changes her direction.
“So, how have you been? I saw your work on that Jets player.”
I’ve got no fucking luck. I nod again and unroll a mat in front of the mirror.
“So, how’s the shop? How’s Aubrey? I need to call her for lunch, maybe get together.”
I can’t help the laugh that rockets out of me. “The fuck are you talking about? You and Aubs hate each other. And why the hell would you call her?”
“No, we’re friends.” She crosses her arms, popping a hip out in a stubborn display.
“The fuck are you on about, Kelly?”
“I just, I thought maybe you and I, you know? Maybe we should give it another try?”
My jaw drops, and I stare at her through the mirror. “Kelly, I mean this with no disrespect, but getting back together with you sounds like torture. I would rather pluck every eyelash out of my left eye than talk to you, and the idea of fucking you?” I shudder, not hiding my revulsion. “You’re with Gage, be happy with him.”
Kelly’s face breaks into a scowl before smoothing out, a veneer moving over her features to hide the ugliness inside. “Wolfie, you don’t mean that. Don’t you ever think about us?”
“Only when I want to make myself throw up.”
“Wolf.” Her voice is sharp, a reprimand for being honest.
“Kelly,” I sigh, tired of her shit, even though I’ve only been in her presence for a few minutes. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but can you just leave me alone? We’re not together, and we probably never should have been in the first place. Gage is a loose cannon, but he’s art in the cage. Let him take care of you, be that trophy wife you’ve always dreamed of ’cause you sure as shit aren’t going to be anything to me ever again.” Bending, I grab the mat I just placed down and move to another part of the gym, keeping my back to Kelly.
“She’s a feral one,” Jedd murmurs, sneaking up beside me as I start on my agility stretches.
“She’s batshit crazy. And if she thinks I’m still interested, she’s delusional, too.” All thoughts of Kelly, all feelings, fled when I realized how opportunistic she was. Instead of dwelling on what could have been my life, lately—as in the past two months—my mind conjures up images of a blonde bob and warm skin, a heart-shaped face, and eyes that seem to glow the longer they stare.
My one night with Serena was supposed to quell the idiotic attraction I can’t help but feel when she’s in front of me or on my mind. Instead, it seems to have done the opposite, making her a constant fixture, a perpetual presence that won’t go the fuck away.
“Ye got somethin’ on yer brain, McCleery?” Jedd eyes me skeptically in the mirror, loosening the hold Serena has on my mind.
“No,” I respond, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Nothing important.”
—
I felt Kelly’s eyes on me up until I walked out of the gym, a persistent, annoying gnat that refused to go away. When she broke up with me, I was devastated; I was gutted when I found out she started dating someone else from my gym. But when I took a step back and looked at it, with Aubrey, Trent, and a shit ton of whiskey, I realized that it was the best damn thing to happen to me.
Life with Kelly would have been constant stress, isolation, and fights; no one, from my mother to my employees, liked her; they just tolerated her for my sake, though I didn’t find that out until later.
Climbing off my bike, I pull my helmet off and clip it to the handlebar at the same time my phone vibrates in my pocket, signaling a call. Without looking at the screen, I lift it to my ear.
“Yeah.”
A soft scoff sounds off, and I smile, knowing immediately that my mother is on the other end of the line. “Is that any way to speak to the woman who gave birth to you?”
“Hey, Ma.”
“Oh, so you do remember that you have a mother. It’s been so long that I wasn’t sure if my child decided to emancipate himself.”
“I’m twenty-five; I’m already emancipated.” Unlike my science and math-minded aunts and uncles, my mother is a high school drama teacher and makes everything a production. CeCe and I are probably so close because she reminds me of my mother with her theatrics.
“Such a smartass. Are you ready for the game at the end of the month?”
“Fight, Mom, not a game.”
“Whatever it is. Are you ready? Are you nervous? How do you feel?”
“I’m good, as ready as I can be.”
“Have I mentioned how happy I am that you’re stopping your matches? I hate seeing black eyes on my baby.” I don’t correct her use of the term matches; after this next fight, I’m retiring.
“So you remind me every time we speak.”
“Watch your tone, Wolfric Magnus McCleery. Anyway, Celeste called me last night and let me know she, her boyfriend, and their friends were coming to the spectacle. I haven’t spoken to Aunt Donna or Aunt Fiona yet, but I assume your other cousins are coming, as well?”
I swallow against the wave of lust that just attacked my cock at the mention of my cousin’s friends. I could give two shits about the guys, and Ava is more like a cousin than anything else, but my mind stutters at the thought of the deceptively serene hellcat. Serena has seen me as an artist, never as a fighter, and I don’t know if I even like the idea of exposing her to that side of my life. It feels too intimate, too personal, and I balk at the idea that she’ll know every fucking facet of who I am.
I don’t want the knowledge that Serena has ridden my cock like a champ, has my artwork on her body, and will see me beat a man to a pulp to turn me on. But fuck me, it does. Shaking my head, I think, She’s not for me, before I ask my mom, “How’s Dad?”
“Okay, I see we’re not talking about Celeste or your other cousins. He bought a pickleball membership, said a few of the guys at the club were talking about playing pickleball, and, of course, he is easily influenced. Peer pressure works on him every damn time.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Let him be; it’s better than drugs.” I glance up at the bar sign; Starbound Tavern is a hole-in-the-wall bar with great food, live music, and a decent beer list. I shouldn’t indulge with a fight so close, but after the shit Kelly pulled today, I need a beer.
“Listen, Ma, I’m about to get something to eat. Can I call you back tomorrow?”
“Oh sure, call me back because your mother is just going to wait by the phone for when you deign to grace me with your verbal presence.”
“Mom,” I huff out.
“Fine. I love you, get home safe. Call me in the morning, or else I’m showing up at your house.”
“Love you too, Mom.” I pocket my phone and open the door to the bar.
I’m not surprised that the place is busy tonight; less than an hour from the city and bordering the college town of West Helm, there are a lot of bankers, professors, and families who live in Millsbrook. I nod my head at the bartender, Lance, and take a seat at the far corner of the bar, away from anyone who may want to talk to me but in a good position to see anyone who comes into the bar.
All I need is one look at Kelly or Gage, and I’ll run out the back door, get my ass on my bike, and head back home.
“Hey man, good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Hey, Lance. Training and clients are kicking my ass.”
He nods, setting down a menu as a formality, though I already know what I’m getting.
“I’ll do a Dog’s Run IPA and a burger, medium, American cheese, and extra pickles.”
“I’ll have the kitchen start on that, boss.”
Lance reaches down to grab a chilled glass and pours the beer expertly, leaving just enough foam at the top to give it a good head that doesn’t need to settle before I take a sip. When I’m driving or on the back of my bike, I rarely indulge in alcohol, and if I do, then only a single beer—not willing to put myself or anyone else at risk from overconsumption or drunk driving.
I lift the glass to take a sip when a horrifying black wig enters the room, attached to the head of a face I know entirely too well, one that looks shockingly similar to mine. Following is a woman with discount store lavender synthetic hair and three men. I watch as they make their way across the bar and settle into a booth, my cousin and Ava sitting facing the door, being as inconspicuous as two wig-wearing women can be while Dante and two other guys sit across from them.
A waiter approaches almost instantly, presumably asking for ID. My cousin and Ava have the good sense to shake their heads while Dante and the other guys hand over their IDs.
Dropping my beer back down, I push myself out of the barstool but stop as honey-blonde hair captures my attention from the corner of my eye. Turning, I see Serena enter, wearing jeans that should be illegal and a short black puffer jacket. Her short hair is artfully messy, like she styled it that way, and her skin fucking emits light, a beacon in a bar that prides itself on dimness.
My jaw hardens as a tall, slim-as-shit guy walks in after her and places his hand on the small of her back as though he has a right to touch her. I can’t hear their conversation, and I’m not a goddamn lip reader, but based on his free hand motioning toward the booths along the back wall, it’s obvious his intent. Serena’s smile is straining, and satisfaction ripples over my body when she discreetly steps out of his hold, one that I should punch myself in the face for feeling.
I don’t have ownership or possession over Serena; she has the autonomy and self-governance to do what she wants with her body, when she wants, and with whom. We fucked one time—singular. I’m going to fix the flying dicks on her back and resign myself to awkward run-ins for the rest of my life since she’s become one of Celeste’s close friends. But I don’t have any claim over her. I tell myself I don’t want one, either, though it feels like a lie.
However, something sets me on edge as I see them; he looks too clean, too nice, too straight-edge for me to take seriously. He’s probably a perfectly nice, respectable guy, earning a business degree to work as a recruiter or outside sales consultant.
Needless to say, I fucking hate him.
Serena’s eyes remain downcast, not noticing me at the bar or the scene across the room, where Celeste and Ava practically stand up on the bench seat to get a better look at their friend on a date. Serena slides into the booth, conveniently facing my direction, and I see the surprise on her face when the idiot slides in next to her, nudging her body over until she’s plastered against the wall.
“The fuck—”
“Here you go. Do you need ketchup or anything?” Lance places my burger in front of me, sliding it until it’s nearly falling from the bar. I catch the plate and shake my head, silently dismissing him so that I can see what happens next.
Just like with my cousin’s table, a waiter materializes and grabs the guy’s ID, while Serena offers a tight smile and a shake of her head. I get that if you’re in a committed relationship, maybe you bring your not-yet-twenty-one-year-old partner to a bar so that you can enjoy a drink. But on what appears to be a first, maybe second date? What’s he going to do, get trashed and make her DD home? Fucking tool.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m across the dining area and standing in front of my cousin’s table, arms crossed and scowl stamped on my face. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Ah shit, here we go,” I hear Dante mumble, taking a sip of his beer as he eyes my cousin warily.
“Get down, you oversized giant,” my cousin hisses, grabbing my arm and pulling me with her surprising strength into the booth next to her.
“Celeste, what the hell are you doing? Let go of my arm.”
“Stop calling attention to us. We’re here to make sure that Serena’s date with Jack goes okay.” Of course, his name is an all-American boy name.
“You called attention to us the minute you walked into this bar with Dollar Tree wigs on. Do you honestly think Serena hasn’t noticed you yet?”
“I told you the wigs were a bad idea, Ava.”
“In my defense, I ordered them from an online store that had significantly better pictures than what showed up. Besides, my soulless one, your hair stands out too much.”
Ava’s boyfriend scoffs. “Vixen, and you think purple hair isn’t going to stand out?”
“Shut up, Greyson.”
“Anyway,” Celeste says. “Why are you here? You never drink before a fight.”
“Kelly,” I mumble, the name containing all the explanation needed as to why I’m here.
“Or to check out Rena?” Dante asks, looking like a smug bastard as he levels me with a look. If he ever thought we’d be friends, he just ruined his chances by being a little shit-stirrer.
“No, you dick. How would I know Serena was going to be here or that you five would show up looking like you’re on the run from law enforcement? I wanted to drink a beer and eat my fucking burger in peace, but that’s been ruined.” I sound like I’m pouting, and part of me is. I was desperate for a low-key night to wallow in my memories from last weekend before I passed out for the night.
“Shhhh, I’m trying to read their lips.”
“What the fuck? Vixen, you brought binoculars?” I look over to see Ava holding up a child-size pair of binoculars like it’s the most normal thing in the world to have bird-watching equipment in a bar.
“What? Too obvious? I have these, too.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out opera glasses, holding them out for show-and-tell. “These are more inconspicuous.”
“Oh, good idea. Let me try them.” Celeste holds out her hand and grabs them, bringing them to her eyes like she’s watching Les Mis and not Serena’s interactions with some twat.
“Red, you think we could borrow those for later? It might be a good idea to get a closer look at—”
“Whatever you’re about to fucking say, don’t, or else I’ll have to kill you,” I warn, cutting off Dante’s words. “And you.” I turn to my cousin. “Give me those. You’re at a goddamn bar, not the ballet. Stay and make sure she’s safe, but don’t treat this like a goddamn sport.”
Celeste glares at me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts growling, based on the annoyance I read in her features. “You don’t get it, Wolf. Serena’s been hurt by people she trusted, and she was nervous to come tonight. We told her to cancel if she didn’t feel comfortable and offered to come here to wait until her date was over, just in case it didn’t go well, but she declined. Obviously, we didn’t listen. We’re here because we love her, and we want to make sure that this guy isn’t someone who will bring her any harm or treat her with disrespect.
“We know she can take care of herself, but…” She pauses, shrugging. “We just want to be sure. After what Dylan and Devin put her through this winter—one of the reasons why you went to that party to get her—we don’t want her to feel as though she’s alone if she needs help.”
“What did they do to her?” My voice is tense, and I don’t doubt that I have a murderous expression on my face, preparing for the worst.
“It’s not my story to tell, but they betrayed her. Two people who have known her since she was a child betrayed her trust and her heart.”
I mull it over, working my jaw until I rationalize that what they’re doing—minus the dumbass binoculars—is a good thing.
“Make some room,” I grind out, gently pushing my cousin further into Ava’s side so that I can get more comfortable in the booth. I’m happy that the three men are sitting together in the long booth so that I don’t have to sit on that fucker Dante’s lap.
“Wolf,” Celeste clears her throat. “You know Ava and Dante, but this is Greyson, Ava’s boyfriend, and Lincoln, Dante and Grey’s roommate.” I look over at the two guys, a blonde with long hair and tattoos on one arm, and the other with caramel skin, a buzzed head, and light eyes. All of his visible skin is covered in ink, and he has a scowl that makes him look like he’s miserable being here.
Fucking same.
I nod at both of them, receiving the same greeting in return.
“Linc, I’m shocked you had the night off,” Ava comments before turning to me. “Lincoln works in the kitchen at Garganello’s, Dante’s sister’s restaurant. He’s also a culinary student.” The tattoos make more sense now; most chefs are covered in them.
Lincoln grunts at Ava’s words and Greyson turns his head to glare at his roommate. “You’re not going to answer her?”
The tattooed fucker rolls his eyes at Greyson’s comment but turns back to Ava. “Frankie gave me the night off,” he pauses, seemingly considering his next words as his mouth twists. “How’s your sister Seraphina?”
Ava’s face falls. “She’s still with Mitch.”
Before Lincoln can put words to the thunderous expression on his face, Celeste claps, interrupting their conversation. “Shhh, guys, look at how Jack is looking at Serena.”
The menu covers Serena’s face, but it’s not difficult to see the look on her date’s face: he looks infatuated by her. As she lowers her menu, his head whips forward, concealing his admiration from her eyes, though she probably felt his stare like a thousand ants crawling on her skin.
“He looks like an obsessed stalker.”
“As someone who has dealt with an obsessed stalker, I can assure you that is not what it looks like.” Ava looks up at her boyfriend, offering him a sweet smile like she knows he needs it.
“I should drag your ass over here, vixen. I don’t like you this far away.”
“Curb the caveman for now, Grey. Anyway”—she looks back over to Serena—“if anything, he looks smitten.”
“He looks like a jackass.”
Dante leans forward, lowering his voice until it’s barely above a whisper, “Your jealousy is showing.”
I scowl but don’t respond.
“Oh my God. Look. I think he’s trying to kiss her.” I adjust my head in time to see Jackass lean in, further crowding Serena against the wall. Serena’s body tenses like she’s preparing for an assault, and I’ve had enough.
“Absolutely fucking not.” I’m out of the booth and across the bar faster than any man my size has the right to move.
“Serena, I need to speak with you.” Both of their heads turn at the sound of my voice. Serena’s face looks stunned—and stunning—while Jack looks like I pissed on his Cheerios and forced him to eat a spoonful.
“Wolf? Am I seeing things?” She waves a hand in front of her, testing to make sure I don’t disappear. When I remain standing, arms crossed, she shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”
“My gym is a few blocks away, and I stopped by after training. Now, can we speak for a minute?”
“Holy shit. You’re Wolf McCleery. Man, I follow all your socials. Your work is sick.”
“Thanks. Serena?” I raise a brow, waiting to see how long it’s going to take her to get up.
“We’re in the middle of something here.”
“It’ll just take a minute.”
She stares at me, contemplation flitting across her face before she lets out a sigh. “Fine. Jack, can you let me out?”
“We’re about to order, Ser.”
I cringe at the nickname, not hiding my distaste. “Like I said, it’ll only take a minute.”
“Jack.” Her tone is cutting, brokering no argument. I smirk at her assertiveness and keep my eyes on her as she slides out of the booth, striding past Jack to stand in front of me. “Well?”
“Watch the tone, princess,” I lower my voice, whispering the words so that only she can hear. Clearing my throat, I nod my head and place my hand on the center of her back, right where the tattoo I designed is going. “There’s a hallway in the back. It’s private.”
“Oh good, exactly what I want. To be in private with the man who fucked me last week, left like he was embarrassed, and then interrupted my date. Sign me up.” I stop mid-step, looking over at her tight expression.
“We said it was one time,” I say softly, trying to lessen the sting.
“I know. I’m not looking for more, but a goodbye would have been nice.”
“Sorry,” I offer, surprised to hear the hurt in her voice.
“Fine, fine.” Serena walks ahead of me, giving me a view of her silhouette. While I can appreciate that she’s hot and looks even better without clothes on, that’s not the sole reason why I can’t help letting my eyes wander over the curves and lines of her body, a walking work of art. She’s grace personified; it’s in the movement of her hips as she walks, the curve of her neck as she observes. She reaches the hallway before I do and spins on her heel, glaring at me. “Now, what do you want?”
“Are you oblivious or just a good actress?”
“Huh?” Her face scrunches, genuine confusion marring her features.
“I’ll ask you again. Are you oblivious? Did you not see Ava and Celeste sitting in the corner with Dante, Greyson, and Lincoln, dressed like cabaret dancers?”
She rears back. “They’re here? I told them not to come.”
“And you believed that they would listen?”
“Well, I mean. I don’t know. I thought, maybe. I—” She breaks off, shaking her head at the news I just dropped on her. “How long have they been here? How long have you been here?”
“I got here thirty minutes ago and haven’t been able to drink my goddamn beer since the Muppets got here right before you came.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘Oh.’ Now, I asked you back here because I saw that slimy fucker try to kiss you. You backed away.”
“Very observant,” she mumbles, averting her face so that I can’t see her eyes.
“Hey, look at me.” I cup her chin and turn her face toward me, tilting it up until her neck is arched and she’s straining against my light hold. “Did you want his lips on you?”
“No.”
“Join us. Don’t be alone with him.”
“We’re on a date.”
“Make it a group fucking hang. Make him understand that you’re not letting his hands on your body.”
“Wolf, I—”
“Nope. You don’t like him.”
“He’s a nice guy,” she argues, making my insides burn.
“He’s not a nice guy if he tries to attack your mouth while you’re reading about the goddamn spinach and artichoke dip.”
“You can’t make decisions for me, Wolf. If I decide to go back to my table with Jack, that’s my prerogative.”
“You’re right; I can’t make decisions for you. But if he’s already trying to skirt around your boundaries when every vibe I’ve seen is closed off and disinterested, then he’s an asshole. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’m worried about you and don’t like the idea of you alone with that prick.”
She stares at me, squinting her eyes as though she’s peering through my soul. “Are you jealous?”
I clench my jaw, leaning back against the wall. “No. I’m trying to be the good guy here.”
“Jack is a good guy, maybe not reading the room well, but he’s a nice person overall. But I can tell you’re not letting this go, and I have no romantic interest in Jack, so fine, I’ll bite.”
She leaves, walking straight to Jack and leaning over until she’s whispering in his ear. I almost feel bad for the guy as she breaks the news that her friends are here; his face falls, and he looks dejected. I shouldn’t feel happiness at his disappointment, but I do.
I’ll analyze that later. For now, I smile as Serena grabs her shit and walks toward Celeste and Ava.