“My big brother, finally trying it with a man.” Bobby’s eyes dance with mischief. “Though I gotta say, I’m a little jealous. You really went for the top shelf, didn’t you?”
The room temperature spikes. Riley looks like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him. Renata coughs, clearly trying not to laugh. And I stand there, frozen, as Bobby’s implication hangs in the air between us.
Riley recovers first. “That’s enough. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Just teasing, big bro.” Bobby winks at me, then turns back to Riley. “Don’t forget about Friday. I found this cool bar called the Rusty Anchor. You’re going to love it.”
“Just text me the address,” Riley says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Will do.” Bobby grabs his Stanley cup and saunters toward the door. He air-kisses Renata’s cheek, gives me another appreciative once-over, and pauses at the threshold. “Don’t work too hard, Riley. You know what they say about all work and no play.”
The door closes behind him, leaving the room feeling strangely empty despite three people still being in it.
Riley clears his throat. “I apologize for my brother. He thinks he’s funny.”
“He is funny,” Renata says, settling into one of the chairs in front of Riley’s desk. “And he’s right—you do work too hard.”
I remain standing, unsure where to put myself in this office with its framed medical degrees and carefully organized bookshelves. Riley gestures to the other chair, but I ignore it. I need the height advantage.
“So,” Riley says, all business now. “What can I do for you two?”
Renata leans forward. “Jacob won his fight against Reyes.”
“I heard. Congratulations.” Riley’s eyes meet mine briefly, then slide away.
“He won because of whatever you did to his shoulder,” Renata continues. “It was like a miracle. One day he could barely lift his arm, the next he’s knocking out The Butcher in three rounds.”
I shift uncomfortably. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“It was,” Renata insists. “I don’t know what you did, but we need more of it.”
Riley leans back in his chair, studying me. “I’m glad I was able to help, and I wish you continued success with your recovery.”
“What?” Renata’s voice sharpens. “No, you don’t understand. We need you to keep treating him.”
Riley’s eyes never leave mine. “I don’t think Jacob wants that.”
The silence stretches thin between us. I know what he’s really saying. After I bolted from his apartment like my ass was on fire, he thinks I’d rather suffer than let him touch me again.
Maybe I would. But there’s a fight in three weeks against Cassius “The Crusher” Lewis. The biggest fight of my career. Andmy shoulder, improved as it is, still isn’t right. I need to be at one hundred percent.
“I do,” I say, the words feeling like gravel in my mouth. “I want you to continue treatment.”
Riley’s eyebrows lift, the only sign of his surprise. “Are you sure? Last time—”
I’m not sure what he was going to say in front of Renata, but I cut him off before he can. “Last time is irrelevant. This is about my health. My career.” The unspoken hangs between us: not about whatever happened on his table, not about the way my body responded to his touch.
“I see.” Riley crosses his arms, studying me for dishonesty. “And you’d be comfortable coming to my office for treatment?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Not your office. Not your home.” I plant my feet wider, drawing myself up to full height. “My place.”
Riley frowns. “That’s highly irregular. I have all my equipment here, and at home I have a proper therapy room set up—”
“My apartment is closer to the gym. It would be more convenient for my training schedule.”