Page 117 of Challenge Me

He pushed on my shoulder with a laugh. When Mal leaned her head against my arm while she continued to write, Amir’s thumb brushed the back of my neck, and a contented look came over his face.

Clearly, my recent dreams didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. There was no unease within my spirit, nor did I feel disconnected from the things around me.

Maybe the gods hadn’t turned their backs on me after all.

*****

Three games. Three wins. They hadn’t done all that well during spring training, but things were ramping up. It seemed like the Red Sox were fiending for that trophy this year. The energy could be felt every time I was around the team, and it rolled off of Amir too.

The shitty part? He’d left this morning for a stretch of games in Texas. Four whole days he’d be gone, and with how close we’d been for two months now, it felt like hell already. I’d been abused many times in my past, but this right here felt like abuse too.

It didn’t help that I was tired. How could I stick with an honest to gods night schedule when Amir and Mal were up by eight in the morning? He got on my ass about how I needed to stay in bed, but if people were up and moving around in the house, I couldn’t sleep. Besides that, I didn’t want to. I was addicted to that goddamn man and his spawn, as hellish as she was sometimes. The more comfortable she got with me, the more she found ways to target my buttons and push them. I couldn’t be prouder.

I’d barely gotten back to the counter after unlocking the door when the little bell went off above it. A man walked in wearing a black hoodie and a ball cap pulled low. Immediately, I reached under the counter to touch the gun secured beneath it.

“Hey, welcome in,” I said cheerfully. “What are you having?” I glanced at the clock. “It’s a little early to start solo drinking.”

“I was told to be here at four,” he replied.

As he got closer, I pulled the gun a little ways out of the holster. “Oh, are you meeting someone?”

“Yeah. I bet you’re Remi, huh?”

“Who’s asking?” I grimaced at how cliché that sounded. “Yeah, I’m Remi. Might I ask who you are?”

He thrust his hand toward me, and I pulled the gun free as I took a step backward. His head tilted down to look at it.

“Whoa,” he said. Slowly, he lifted the cap, giving me a better view of his face. He was about middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. From what I could see, his hair was cut short, and there was a tattoo just below his ear—the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor emblem.

“A Marine,” I mused. “Is that why you’re giving off hostile vibes, or is it something else?”

“Hostile? I’m just here for the job.”

“Yeah, the job. That’s cute, man. Now leave.” When he didn’t budge, I tightened my grip on the gun.

“Alright,” he said, backing away. “Sorry to bother you.”

As soon as he was out the door, I released a breath. My hand shook slightly, but I held onto the weapon in case he came back. I had enough practice that I was confident my aim would be true through the tremors.

My phone rang, and I jumped. Bringing it to my ear, I kept my eyes on the door. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Amir said.

“Weird timing. What’s up?”

“You pulled a gun on Tommy, that’s what’s up.”

My brows lifted. “Tommy? The Marine who was acting all dodgy and wanted to strike me down in my own bar?”

“No, dumbass. He’s there to keep an eye on the place.”

“An eye . . . Amir, are you telling me that you hired a fucking bodyguard?”

“Not a bodyguard. Security.”

“I don’t need security. God damnit, why didn’t you say something before?”

“Because he hadn’t gotten back to me until today. Plus, I knew you’d fight me on it. Better to ask forgiveness, right?”