Real(92)

“No! No, never!” Reeling in surprise, I drag her in for another hug, still stunned and disbelieving that my little sister is in my arms, and then Melanie grabs her and gives her some Mel-love.

“Nora!! Nora Camora Lalora Crazyora!” She hugs and swings her around and squeezes her, and I turn to stare at the three men before me, and since I can’t make myself speak to the one I really want to speak to, I speak to Pete instead. “Pete, what’s going on?”

“Surprise,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and signaling to Nora. “She’s done great. She’s such a sweet girl.”



I keep staring impatiently, and he nods at Remington, who’s just rammed his hands into his jean pockets. His eyes are raking me top to bottom, nonstop, making me aware of my athletic gear and the way it hugs my butt, my breasts, and my expanding waistline from eating mood-boosting dark chocolate just to help with my completely frustrating heartbreak blues.

“The night Remy went to fight with Scorpion, Scorpion offered your sister to him instead of the championship. And Remy agreed,” Pete then tells me.

I stand motionless for a moment, blank, wavering, and very baffled. When my eyes confusedly seek out Remington’s, I feel a shock run through me at the intensity in his stare. Then, I’m bowled over.



“You mean he agreed to … lose?” For Nora?

No, not for Nora, you idiot. For you.

A powerful emotion zip lines through my body, settling like a burning bolt of light in my brain, illuminating me with the magnitude of something that sounds impossible, but which they have just told me to be true.

Briefly tossing my head side to side, I cling helplessly to those dark-lashed, achingly familiar blue eyes. My pulse spins with confused disbelief. A war of emotions rages within me as strange and disquieting thoughts race through my mind, clenching around my heart.



“You did this for … Nora?” I breathlessly ask Remington.

His face is so beautiful, I just want to grab his spiky hair and kiss him senseless, but at this point, I don’t think I even deserve to have this man standing here. Looking at me without telling me what I jerk I am for leaving him the way I did.

Feeling painfully hammered inside, which is not the optimal feeling to experience when you’re told your baby sister is, thankfully, happily, back home, I sit down on the stairs leading to my small building, knocked out by my stupor as I furiously try blinking back a well of tears threatening to fall.

Pete grabs a green duffel bag from the back of the Escalade and heads inside with Nora. “Let me take this in for you, Nora.”

I’m left with Riley, whose gaze shifts from Melanie to me like a Ping-Pong ball, and I’m also left with Remy. My Remy. The Remy I abandoned in the hospital. The one I adore. The one I am mad over. The one that got his guts torn apart and humiliated for the sake of my sister. For me.

A ball of pain gathers at my throat and I can barely stand it.



He’s so handsome, so familiar, I feel like a prisoner in my own body, screaming to touch what I had, for weeks, viewed as mine.

His big hands are still deeply buried in his jeans, and I wonder if he may be struggling with the same issues too? But there’s a somberness in his expression that is rarely there when his eyes are blue. And they are so blue, I’m drowning in them. I wrap my arms around me and drop my head as the shame continues building inside me. “Why didn’t you tell me? That you threw the fight for … her?”

I can’t even say “me”—I feel awful.

But Remington says softly, “You mean you.”

Riley interrupts, “I didn’t know either, Brooke. Or Coach. Only Pete knew. He’s the one who found him that night, and he helped secure your sister while Remington delivered the win.”

My eyes shift to the face of my dreams, and my voice drops as the pain of what he did for me seeps through my pores.



“How are you? Are you all right?” I look at him, and his eyes are blue and on fire with emotion as he nods. He’s angry at me. I think. I don’t know. I feel punched in the gut when I look at him, but at the same time, it’s all I want to do. “What does this loss mean for you now?” I ask him. Oh, god, I missed my Remington so much that when I look at him, all perfect blue eyes, beautiful face, I feel water in my eyes.



I think he’s having trouble talking too, because there’s a silence. A violent and unexpected despair surges wildly through me as I stare at this surprising, unpredictable man, the ever-changing mystery of Remington Tate, and suddenly, nothing in the world has hurt me more than having had him and lost him.



“The loss? Other than we’re poor?” Riley finally answers when it seems neither Remington nor I are going to speak. He chuckles a bit too loudly and rakes his hair back. “He has a couple million to get him through the year. We’re making a comeback when the new season starts. Remy’s fans demand retribution.” “You do have loyal fans, don’t you?” I quietly ask, directing my question to Remington as I remember all the flowers he made them bring me, and I feel queasy and excited again.