“He left behind a wife and kid. Marcy and Rose. The fucking sport I loved tore away my brother, tore away Marcy’s husband, Rose’s dad.” He shook his head, fighting his emotion. “First time someone called me the Widowmaker after he died … I threw up.”

“Rhys.” I pushed deeper into him.

Now I knew. I knew why he couldn’t get back in that ring.

“So I get it to a certain extent.” He caressed my cheek, his eyes following the trail his fingers made across my skin. “I get how it feels to lose your best friend. To not be able to move on.”

And I realized he did. Gently extricating myself from his embrace, I reached for his hand. “I don’t think not going back to fighting is an inability to move on, Rhys. It’s a choice you made. A choice you should be proud of.” At the abject surprise on his face, I curled my hand around his and gripped it tight. “I can’t imagine the expectations people had of you as a champion … but I can imagine that those expectations weighed heavily on your shoulders. To turn your back on that, to do what was right for you, to follow your gut … Rhys, that takes more courage than putting on those gloves and getting in that ring.”

Pain flickered across his features, the muscle in his jaw flexing again, as he stared into my eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to where I held his hand and his grip tightened. When he eventually looked up again, there was something like awe in his expression.

Something sweet.

Something significant.

And something dangerous to my emotions.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, hoarse. “Let me get you home, sweetheart.”

Our walk to the gym was silent but Rhys didn’t release my hand. When we got to his garage, to his bike, he brushed my hair off my shoulders and carefully put my helmet on for me. Once I got on the bike after he’d straddled it, he took my hands and drew them around his waist so I was pressed as close to him as I could get.

Part of me feared arriving at my place because with the thick tension between us, I half expected Rhys to ask to come up.

And the scary thing?

I wasn’t sure I would say no.

However, Rhys didn’t ask to come up. He stayed on the bike as I got off. He removed his helmet, waiting patiently as I took off mine. He reached for my hand and jerked me toward him.

My heart jumped into my throat, only to nosedive down again when he placed a brotherly kiss to my forehead.

Huh.

“’Night, Tinker Bell. I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

I had to clear my throat to speak. “Saturday,” I agreed, stepping back.

“Not leaving until you’re safe inside, sweetheart.”