Part 22 (2/2)

”Tell me it's not because you want to fight, want to test yourself against an ex-pro.”

”Not like this, Mom,” I tell her. ”I wouldn't wish it like this, with our safety in the balance.”

”But you always did like a challenge, a thrill.”

”I am who I am. You can't change me.”

”Can she?”

I hesitate. ”I don't know. It's too late, anyway. I already arranged the fight. It's for next week, Wednesday. That's six days.”

”Do you like her, Chance?”

I grind my teeth together. ”Yes.”

”How long have you two been-”

”Not long, but long enough.”

”Are you falling in love with her?”

The question drops on me like an anvil.

”I could in a blink.”

Mom's eyes dart down quickly, and I follow them. There's a shadow beneath Ca.s.sie's door.

It moves away after a moment.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Knuckles rap against my door. I know that it is Chance by the way that he knocks. He must not have brought his keycard out with him this morning.

I creep toward the door, unsure of what our conversation is going to be. Did he know I was listening through it the night before? Does he know that I heard what he said?

Does it even matter?

Last night, when he came back into the room, I pretended to be asleep. I was curled up in bed, facing the wall, and I didn't turn around.

I heard him get ready for bed, heard him shower and brush his teeth, the springs of his bed creak beneath his weight as he climbed in.

I couldn't catch a wink. All night my mind raced.

I feel like we are one long shot away from being over. Dad will have to leave the States, go on the run, if he wants to get away from the debt collectors.

I spent all night reading up horror stories on the internet. Beneath my blanket, phone-screen near blinding, I read of people borrowing money from loan sharks, and then not being able to pay it back.

Stories of people having bones broken, losing limbs, being beaten to within inches of their lives... those were the tamer stories. The most gruesome ones terrified me.

The ones about women were the worst.

If it's really over a million dollars that Dad owes, they're not going to just let that slide. Maybe a few hundred thousand, they might give you some extra time, might loosen the leash a little.

But a million?

There's no way in h.e.l.l they don't collect on that, in one way or another.

So Dad will have to run. Either that or change his name, a.s.sume a new ident.i.ty. Or something. I don't even know how it all works.

And what about me? No college, no degree. We won't be able to afford it! And I was never granted a scholars.h.i.+p...

”Ca.s.s,” I hear Chance call through the door. ”Open the door.”

I glance toward the clock, see that it's half-past eight in the morning. I barely got a wink of sleep last night. I'm groggy, tired, and my eyes are dark rings.

When I open the door, I see Chance standing there drenched in sweat. His neck s.h.i.+nes in the hotel hallway light. Beads drip off his chin. He's got a shadow a he must not have shaved yet.

It's amazing to me that the first thing I think is that he smells good when he sweats. I want to be grossed out by that, but I'm just not.

It's like I want everything about him, every smell, every feeling, every single thing.

I've never felt like that before.

”What the h.e.l.l happened to you?” I ask him as he steps in.

”I need to get my conditioning up,” he says, panting. There's barely any emotion on his face. ”I'm going to shower, and then we'll go get breakfast.”

I frown, furrow my brow, follow him into the bathroom. ”What are you talking about?”

”Museums. Our plan.”

”No, I don't think we're doing that anymore.”

”Get ready, and I'll see you in half an hour.”

”Don't you think we should talk, Chance?”

”We'll talk while we walk. We're going to be doing a lot of walking if we're hitting three museums.”

He begins to undress, and I watch him while he does. The carved lines of his body never cease to be pleasing to the eye, but he disappears behind the shower's opaque gla.s.s quickly.

”Get ready!” he tells me.

Thirty minutes later I'm as ready as I'm bothered to be, and slumped in one of the armchairs in the lobby. I see Chance stride out of the lift. Not many people make everything they wear look great, but he always does.