Having Raia in the gym each day is distracting as hell.
The Coyotes facilities are where I come to check out. To turn off my mind and focus on football. On the career that has driven every decision—romantic and otherwise—that I’ve made for the past decade.
Now, Raia Callaway is in my space and every part of my body knows it. At first, I think I’m in tune to her because of our history. But when she starts a set of Romanian deadlifts, and I get a good look at her ass in her hug-every-curve leggings, I want to bleach my eyes, toss her a hoodie, and hustle her out of the gym.
Because if I’m distracted by Raia, every guy in here must be low-key fascinated. And that bothers me.
Turning away from her ass, I throw myself into a workout. A DJ friend of mine sent a new playlist that I listen to—loudly—to drown out my thoughts. Still, I’m aware of every move Raia makes from the corner of my eye. And when she squirts a stream of water into her mouth and a few droplets drip down the column of her neck and fucking Gutierrez approaches her, my workout is effectively over.
“You’re looking good, G,” Raia tells him as I pull out my AirPod.
I frown. Gutierrez looks like a sweaty, smelly dumpster.
“Thanks. The rehab’s been a bitch,” Gage replies.
“Tell me about it.” She points to the side of her body. “But my injury is nothing compared to yours. You starting this season?”
“God, I hope so,” he replies, leaning against a Smith machine.
Raia sighs. “I hope so, too.”
Gage casually taps her arm. “You’ll get back out there. Don’t give up on what you want, Raia. And definitely not for a man.”
She winces. “You heard, huh?”
“Brooks always was a chump,” he admits and Raia’s shoulders dip.
Is she embarrassed or relieved by Gage’s assessment? And why can’t I tell? I used to read Raia’s mood by the most subtle lift of her eyebrow, by a twist in her lips, and now…I don’t know.
That bothers me too.
I saunter over to interrupt their conversation.
“What are you slackers doing?” I ask.
Gage snorts and slaps my shoulder. “Slackers? I saw you dancing more than you were lifting, Cohen.”
I tap to the AirPod still in my ear. “Skillet sent me a new playlist.”
“Dope. AirDrop it to me?” Gage asks. “I could use the extra motivation.”
“No doubt,” I agree, pulling out my phone to drop him the playlist. I arch an eyebrow at Raia.
“I’ll take it, too,” she says. No please. No gratitude.
I grin. Fuck, I missed this pain in the ass.
“Number?” I ask, even though I have it. I’ve had her digits since she first got a cell phone at age thirteen.
Surprise crosses her face, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she rattles off the numbers and I pop them into my phone. Sure enough, Raia’s name appears on the screen.
I send her the playlist.
“Thanks, man.” Gage shakes his phone at me. “I gotta catch up with the rookie.” He flips his chin toward West. “Good to see you, Rai.”
“You too, G. Take it easy,” Raia replies. She glances at me. Her cheeks are red from her workout, and she has a few strands of hair plastered to her neck with sweat. The front of her tank has a wet patch in the valley between her perky breasts and I quickly avert my gaze.
When did Raia become such a…woman? When the hell did she grow up?
“How’d it go today?” She looks like she pushed hard. Too hard? What is she trying to prove? While I’ve had a front-row seat to the competitive nature of the Callaway siblings for years, I’ve also witnessed both of them do physical damage when their mental motivation burns too bright.
“Fine,” she replies, moving her arm to stretch out her shoulder. She blows out a sigh. “The injury isn’t as bad as I feared. I’m not in as much pain as I thought I’d be.”
“Wait ’til tomorrow.”
Raia flips me the middle finger and I smack her hand away.
She grins. “How was your workout? Looked pretty light to me.”
“So, you were watching me, then?” I toss back.
She blushes. Such a pretty pink.
Fuck, what the hell am I doing? Flirting with Raia? Raia!
“Nah,” she recovers. “Just every time I finished a set, you were still standing in the same spot.”
I chuckle. “I already worked out this morning. Ran too.” I blow her a teasing kiss.
She groans. “You and my brother are the worst. What is wrong with the two of you? Why do you always have to go at everything with one-hundred percent?”
I flex obnoxiously. “It’s how champions are made, babe.”
She lifts an eyebrow. Is it at my teasing tone? Or the term of endearment that just slipped out at the end? I hope she doesn’t read into it. I call nameless women “babe” all the damn time.
But Raia’s not nameless. She’s working her way under my damn skin.
Her phone chirps in quick succession, interrupting our wordless stare-off.
She pulls her phone from the front of her small bag and shakes her head as she swipes to read the messages.
Her complexion pales and her eyes widen. Her lips part and a look of pure panic crosses her expression. Then, gut-wrenching heartache. Her shoulders slump and she sucks in an inhale that cracks like a sob.
“Raia?” I step toward her.
She reaches out, as if looking for a bench, or a wall, to lean her weight against. She sways on her feet, and I swear, taking her arm to pull her toward a seating cluster.
I push her down into a chair and watch her closely.
Her fingers tremble as she swipes the screen of her phone.
“Rai?” I keep my voice low. “Is everything okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Raia ignores my attempt at levity and my concern surges. If she’s not flipping me shit, then something is wrong. My eyes swing around the gym. and I clock Avery on a treadmill. So, it’s not her brother.
“Your parents?” I press.
“They’re fine,” she answers automatically. Her eyes don’t leave her phone’s screen.
I perch on the edge of the small table in front of her and lean forward. My hand lands on her thigh, right above her knee, and a jolt—some type of awareness—flows through my veins.
What the hell is going on?
I give her a little shake. “Talk to me, Rai. You okay, babe? What’s going on?”
She looks up from her phone and stares at me with big, heavy, gray eyes. Like thunderclouds desperate to pour some rain.
“Cohen,” her voice catches.
“I’m right here. What happened?”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t, I don’t understand.”
“Want me to get Avery?” I offer. Maybe this is a family issue, and she would feel more comfortable talking to her brother.
“No!” Her hand darts out and wraps around my wrist, anchoring my hold on her leg. “No, please. I just, I need to go. I can’t be here right now.”
She stands abruptly, releasing my hand and shaking off my touch. “My water bottle and bag…” she murmurs to herself, glancing around for her belongings.
“Just, sit tight,” I say, standing. I gently push her back into the chair and scurry to gather her stuff.
When I appear at her side and press her bag into her hands, the gratitude that shimmers in her tear-filled eyes makes my chest ache.
“Come on.” I tug her up and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”
She shudders before melting into my side. My worry skyrockets that she allows me to guide her out of the gym and into the parking lot.
Raia Callaway hates to show weakness. Or worse, vulnerability. She’s tough, edgy, and likes to prove herself. The fact that she’s letting me lead right now means she’s truly rattled. And I fucking hate it. My protective instincts flare as Raia, small and fragile in this moment, clings to me.
Did someone hurt her? Is someone threatening her? What the fuck happened to make her demeanor flip?
She sniffles as we near my SUV and horror fills me.
“Are you crying?” I ask, the question popping out from my surprise.
She drops her head and I feel worse.
“You can cry all you want, champ,” I mutter, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “I just, fuck, Rai…” I pause beside my SUV and pull back to look at her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She stares at me with pure heartbreak in her eyes. Her lips part and her mouth forms words but no sound comes out.
“Jesus,” I mutter, bundling her into the passenger seat of my SUV. I slide behind the wheel.
“My car’s in the lot.” She points a few rows over.
I shrug. “I’ll get it for you later. I’m not letting you drive when you can barely form sentences.” I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but I’m worried about her. She’s not giving me any insight into what has her spooked.
Raia runs her thumb over her leggings, scratching at the fabric. “Thanks for the ride, Cohen.”
“Anything for you, Rai. You know that.” I glance at her as I pull out of the lot. “What’s going on?”
She blinks rapidly, holding back tears. “Brooks has a new girlfriend.”
I fight the urge to slam on the breaks.
This is about fucking Brooks?
We just bolted from the gym—ditching my workout and leaving most of my shit and her car behind—because Brooks is dating?
Does she really care this much?
Raia sniffles again and I glance skyward, searching for patience since she’s clearly devastated by this news.
I bite back every swear word filtering through my mind and exhale. I got this. I can do girl talk. Hell knows I’ve done it with Mila and Maisy on too many occasions. “Well, you knew this would happen eventually. And I’m sure this girl is random. I doubt he even likes her—he’s probably just using her to get over you because—”
“It’s Anna,” Raia sobs.
This time, I do slam on the breaks. My arm shoots out to serve as a shield for Raia’s body as my sudden stop propels her forward. Her chest bounces off my arm before she sits back in her seat and looks at me.
“Anna? Your cousin Anna?” I confirm.
Raia’s tear-stained, miserable face meets mine. She nods.
“Shit,” I swear, understanding why Raia is so upset.
Her ex-boyfriend and her cousin betrayed her on a whole new level.
They broke her fucking heart.