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  Standing quickly from my desk chair, I stripped my sandy sheets from my bed and threw them in the washing machine. I put a spare set of sheets from the linen closet over my mattress and went into my bathroom next. After straightening up my counter, wiping my mirror, scrubbing my toilet bowl with bleach cleanser, and sweeping hair off of the bathroom floor, I couldn’t find any more busy work within my room to distract me from my thoughts of Drew.

  Liam’s words resonated in my ears and hit my brain like a freight train. “He’s nice. I think we might be friends,” he had said to me, with hope and excitement in his voice. Liam has never had many friends. People in school were both intimidated and scared of him, or teased him mercilessly, calling him “retard” or “moron” non-stop. He was finally at a point in his life where things were going well for him. Despite his intellectual level being that of a nine year old, so the “experts” told us, he was functional and doing well. We’d been told that he would never achieve an academic level above a sixth grader, yet he earned his high school diploma with only one additional year of instruction. Sometimes he regressed to behaving like a pre-adolescent, especially in times of stress or change, but other times I could swear that he understood everything as I did. Socially, he was improving, and often people who didn’t know him wouldn’t even know that he was mentally impaired. This could be his opportunity to excel in a skill that he was truly gifted at. I was determined to do anything I could to help him. I willed myself in that moment to make it right with Drew. Not only could I not allow my weird hormonal interest in him to go too far, but I had to be nice. I didn’t want his potential resentment towards me to affect his relationship with Liam, be it strictly professional or an actual friendship.

  I was going to apologize and be nice. I was going to control myself and my emotions. I could do this. I had to do this.

  And I would start tomorrow.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BREE

  Thankful that whatever stomach virus I’d been plagued with seemed to be gone, I dragged my behind into work at 6:00 am like usual. It was pointless to try to avoid the gym or Drew any longer. I barricaded myself in the office and hid behind stacks and mounds of busy work. I hadn’t seen anyone all day long, which wasn’t surprising since I didn’t even surface for lunch. I was nearly bug-eyed from staring at the computer screen for six hours straight when I finally decided to call it quits. With all of the clerical work caught up, I couldn’t wait to get home, pour a glass of cold sweet tea, and veg out with my latest romance novel.

  I had successfully created an up-to-date statistical database for every fighter we were training. It was ambitious, but I completed it and was proud of my finished product. If I had to compute one more number on a statistics spreadsheet today, though, I was going to simultaneously go blind and lose my shit. I grabbed my backpack and water bottle and got up to leave. After closing the office door and checking that it was locked because a few stragglers were still training, I turned around to walk down the hallway, searching for my cell phone to text Liam that I was going to stop by the store on the way home. I turned the corner and ran straight into a brick wall, hard. Only it wasn’t a brick wall. It was Drew. I dropped my phone on the floor with a crash. The case came off, scattering into multiple pieces of broken plastic all over the floor, and my water bottle rolled away from me. My face instantly flushed and I apologized as I bent down to pick up all of my crap while I tried to hide my embarrassment.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I probably should look where I’m going.” I could feel my face turning eight shades of red with embarrassment and my heart rate had increased instantly to full-on cardio workout level. I shook my head back and forth, thinking that I just couldn’t seem to keep it together around this guy.

  “It’s okay. It was my fault. I’m sorry if I broke your phone,” he said shyly, bending down to help pick up my strewn belongings.

  I could feel his eyes on me, but couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with him. When I did finally bring my gaze up from the floor, I was rendered speechless.

  Dear God, he was shirtless and glistening with sweat, with a towel draped around the back of his neck like he was a sweat towel super model, obviously having just gotten done training. I could see the edges of a tattoo peeking out from under the towel, apparently right over his heart, and ached to look at the entire thing.

  “Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve dropped it a hundred times. I really need to get a better case. Looks like I’ll have to now since this one is shattered. Are you headed out?” I tried to change the subject.

  “Yeah, uh, actually…I was coming to try to find you. I haven’t seen you in a while. Liam said you were sick. Everything okay?” he asked, seeming genuine.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just a 24 hour bug, I guess. I’m feeling much better, though, thanks,” I said, feeling awkward by this whole line of questioning. I felt myself fidgeting, uneasy with how to behave in this situation. A few seconds of awkward silence passed between us before Drew finally spoke up.

  “Okay, good. So, do you know where I can get a decent cup of coffee around here?” he asked. “I’m new in town and all and I don’t know where all of the good places are. I figured you would know. And I also wanted to talk to you about the other day.”

  Oh my God. Here we go.

  I chuckled and smiled. “Yes. Actually there’s a really nice little coffee shop a few blocks from here. Their coffee is phenomenal and they have great desserts too.”

  “Phenomenal, huh?” he asked, smiling back at me. “Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” His expression was slightly shy, but he looked hopeful.

  Is he asking me out? Like a date? Who cares? Say yes!

  “Yes!” Smooth. “I mean, sure. I’d love a cup of coffee, actually. Thanks.”

  “Okay, cool. Can you just give me a few minutes to get cleaned up?” he asked.

  Actually, I would prefer you just take me to get coffee wearing those muscles and sweat.

  “Sure, take your time. I’ll just take care of a few more things in the office while you shower.” And try not to picture you naked the entire time.

  About fifteen minutes later, Drew came to get me from the office wearing dark jeans and a heather gray t-shirt. His hair was still a little wet, enough to remind me that he’d just showered, which started the naughty images of his naked body again. I really needed to get a grip on my hormones if I was going to see him every day.

  We walked down the street to the coffee shop and exchanged small talk about how nice the weather was and how cute our quaint little town was. I ordered a chai latte and he ordered an extra-large quad caramel macchiato with no whipped cream. Interesting. He paid for both of our drinks before I could even get my wallet out of my bag. I thanked him and followed him to a corner booth.

  “So, about the other day—” he began.

  “It’s okay,” I interrupted. “Can we just not talk about it? I am so sorry. I didn’t expect to see anyone down there. I usually go that far north because no one’s ever around and I can just be alone with my thoughts. You just startled me. I just, I don’t know. I saw your face and recognized you and felt horrible. I reacted the wrong way. I didn’t mean to be so rude to you. I’m usually not like that. I was just so embarrassed. And I feel awful that I went all rabid spider monkey on you and broke your nose without reason. I guess I owe you a double apology. Can we please just start over?” I pleaded.

  “Sure,” he answered with a smile.

  My God, he has a nice smile.

  He reached his right hand out toward me and asked with kind eyes, “Truce?”

  “Truce,” I replied and shook his large, strong, firm, masculine hand. I could’ve sworn I almost felt an electric jolt up my arm, like an energy transferring between us. It felt startling but reassuring at the same time.

  “So you obviously train at the gym. You’ve got quite a right hand, so says my nose,” he joked.

  “No, I actually don’t train, but I’ve t
aken a few of the self-defense classes we offer and mess around with Liam sometimes to practice my moves,” I answered. “I’m seriously so sorry about everything.”

  “It’s really okay. I promise. It’s not my first broken nose. Although, I’m pretty sure I’m never going to be able to have kids now,” he blurted out, laughing.

  My face instantly turned bright tomato red with embarrassment. I lowered my head to try to hide it but it was no use.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just kidding. Hey, seriously. It’s fine. I promise,” he insisted. “You should really consider talking up martial arts though. You’re a natural.” He smiled and sipped his coffee. Smooth, confident, casual. He was nowhere near as uncomfortable as I was.

  “You can tell all that by twenty seconds of received action?” I asked, immediately regretting that I said “action” like that.

  “Well, not really, but I’m 6′4″ and 255 pounds of experienced fighter and you managed to almost knock me out. I saw stars and everything,” he admitted.

  When he recited his physical statistics to me, sounding proud of his size, the MMA-loving section of my heart fluttered and high-fived the sexually charged section between my legs. The words coming out of his mouth sounded stronger and larger than me reading them on his gym application.

  “Yeah, but you weren’t exactly attacking me,” I pointed out. “Or fighting back.”

  “Eh,” he said with a shrug. “Regardless, you’re damn good. Think about it.”

  We continued chatting back and forth casually as we drank our coffee and each ended up getting dessert. He caught me basically drooling over his lemon cake and offered me a bite.

  Smiling at his effort to get a bite that had both cake and icing on the fork for me, he joked, “What? You need to get the whole experience.”

  I appreciated the thoughtfulness and appreciated the taste of the cake even more, audibly groaning at how good it was in comparison to my carrot cupcake. I learned that he came here from Phoenix a few days ago, originally headed to Daytona for a “fresh start,” but detoured up here to Fernandina because our gym was actually recommended to him. Telling me that he needed a fresh start made a small red flag go up in the back of my mind, but I thought better of probing further. His body language told me that it wasn’t the right time for me to push.

  “What do you mean, our gym was recommended to you? By who?” I questioned.

  “Well, I met a man just outside of Jacksonville and he said he knew your father back in the day. Once he learned that I fought MMA, he told me that I just had to come and see Pat Murphy’s gym! I figured I didn’t really have a reason not to. I didn’t even really care where I was going, I just needed to be by the ocean. I guess Fernandina is as good a place as any,” he said.

  I loved listening to his voice.

  “Wait, who told you about my dad and the gym?” I asked, truly baffled at who he could be referring to.

  “His name was Mick Spalding. He pulled over to help me when I broke down on the side of I-10 with a busted radiator. I ended up staying with him and his wife for a couple days while my truck got fixed. Nice guy.”

  “That’s crazy. We’ve known Mick forever. He lived in Fernandina for the longest time but moved away to Baker County a few years back. When they put a name brand hardware store on A1A, he claimed it was getting ‘too city’ for him. I’m not at all surprised that he pulled over to help you. He was always picking up some stray to help. Not that I’m calling you a stray, of course. He just loves to help random people, animals, whatever. If you need something, and he finds out, it’s impossible to refuse him,” I explained. “We only get to see him at the shrimp festival every year, which is coming up next weekend, now that I think about it.”

  “Yeah, he’s actually going to be staying with me, I think. I spoke to him yesterday on the phone. He’s excited. Apparently this shrimp festival is a big deal.”

  It amazed me how easy it was to talk to Drew. Our conversation flowed effortlessly. He asked all about my family and how we came to own the gym. I told him about my mother dying when we were just teenagers and how much of an impact that had on all of us. He seemed to truly understand and listened without giving me the generic, obligatory responses when you tell someone that your parent is dead. I asked about where he came from and what he was running from. That’s when the energy of our conversation took a turn. All I got from him was a closed off response that he just simply needed a fresh start. Oooookay then.

  He was handsome, downright sexy. I’d never been attracted to another man as much as I was to this man. He was just flawless. Even with his nose still swollen and the purplish bruising under his eyes, from my blows to his head no less, he was breathtaking. I was surprised I could even concentrate on what he was saying. I had to keep reminding myself to look around because my eyes were glued to his involuntarily. His warm, incredible, emerald eyes. He was charming and flirty, but not over the top in a creepy or arrogant way. Just enough to make me want more. We were long finished with our coffee and dessert, but I wasn’t ready to go home yet.

  As if he could read my thoughts, he asked, “Do you want to walk down to the water and keep talking? I mean, only if you want to. I just…it’s nice to have someone to talk to. I don’t really know anyone here yet, other than Liam.”

  We left the coffee shop and strolled down toward the inter-coastal. He gestured over to a public dock, suggesting we head that way, so I walked ahead and sat down first. He sat to my left side. We sat in silence for a moment, taking in the beautiful evening. A nice breeze was blowing, the marsh lands were calm, and activity was quieting down for the day. Most of the charter fishing boats were already in and docked. A few stragglers were coming in and tying on to sort and clean their catch of the day. The sun was hiding behind a blanket of smooth clouds, easing its way down for the night, and beautiful oranges and pinks colored the sky, contrasting perfectly with the deep gray-blue of the water and bright green marsh grasses. It was nice. Peaceful and comfortable.

  “So what’s the deal with Liam?” he blurted out as if it had been on the tip of his tongue forever and he could no longer contain it.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, fishing, curious to see how he would describe my brother’s disability. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been asked the same question a hundred times before, but something about the directness in which Drew asked me prompted me to want to test him.

  “I guess, I mean, well, I can tell he’s a little different, but I can’t figure it out. I’ve been too nervous to ask your dad and Liam is kind of always around us anyway, so I figured I would ask you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive or pry. It’s none of my business,” he said, turning slightly away from me. He looked down at his lap, where his hands were clasped together; he was rubbing his thumb over his calloused palm.

  “It’s okay, Drew. It is your business. You’re essentially training partners, and hopefully friends. You should know. I just hope it doesn’t change anything, because Liam is my heart and he’s excited about finally having a friend. It would kill him to have you treat him any differently,” I stressed.

  He brought his head up, looking at me with surprise on his face. “I would never treat him any differently.”

  I believed him.

  I told Drew about Liam’s “condition,” including his low IQ, learning disabilities, difficulty in school, and trouble handling what others perceive as normal social situations. I told him how I homeschooled him, which garnered a shocked look, and how much better he did with me than ever before. I tried to explain our “connection” and bond the best I could, but if you aren’t a twin, you really don’t get it. He watched me talk and appeared to hang on my every word with true interest and astonished expressions. It was refreshing to feel like I could talk freely and openly about Liam and not be compelled to censor how I felt about the whole situation. Something made me want to tell Drew how I felt. I wanted him to understand me—to know me.

  “Thank you for telling me. And you need t
o know that I’m not just some meathead,” Drew assured me. “I’m a good guy. I’m not going to do anything to hurt Liam. I want to be his friend. You telling me these things doesn’t change how I’ll treat him at all. If anything, it’ll help me be a better friend to him, and a better training partner. He’s so talented. I’ve never been matched with another fighter so in sync with me before. It’s challenging and fun. I’m excited about it. I’m excited about being here,” he confessed with a smile that reached his eyes.

  “Thanks for saying that. It means a lot to me. I just have to watch out for him. He isn’t really able to discern when someone is being genuinely nice to him verses taking advantage of him, so I worry constantly about that. And you’re a new person to all of us. I don’t know you or that your intentions are good,” I warned.

  “In time, I hope that you’ll see that I have nothing but good intentions. I’m just thankful for the opportunity here. I’m thankful that Liam wants to be my friend, and that your dad is willing to work with me, and I’m thankful that you’re willing to get to know me,” he said, grinning.

  We stayed there quietly for a minute or two before he spoke again.

  “So, how did the boxing gym get introduced into MMA?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious. “I mean, no offense, but it’s just unusual and peculiar to me that a bunch of Irish men would be into jiu-jitsu.”

  “I’ll tell you. But, on one condition. A story for a story. I’ll tell you something about my family, and you’ll tell me something about your family,” I suggested.

  “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. My parents are dead and they’re the only family I had. It’s a sad story and I don’t ever talk about it,” he responded curtly. “I can’t talk about it.”