Page 28 of The Clinch
“Sleeping with the man I’m fake dating would be stupid.”
I keep my face neutral and let the rest hurt.
“A good exit matters,” she adds. “And I don’t get one anymore.”
The realization hits hard.
She was planning to bolt.
Simple. Fast. Finished before it ever turned into a problem.
That’s the smart play. That’s always been the smart play.
The spike of irritation that follows has nothing to do with her. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
I clamp down on it and step back, giving her the space she’s clearly drawing a line around.
“Fine,” I say evenly. “Then I won’t make it harder.”
She continues with her warm-up. Conversation over.
I turn away before my body can argue with my brain, already telling myself what this is.
Temporary.
Contained.
Not personal.
“I can handle myself. If Travis shows up, I have a plan.”
That stops me. “What kind of plan?”
She lifts her arms overhead in a long stretch, ribs lengthening, hair sliding down her back in a curtain. She looks completely unconcerned, half-naked and painted in color, talking about danger like it’s a grocery list item.
“I’ll run,” she says simply. “He can’t catch me.”
I stare at her. “That’s your plan?”
“It’s a good one.” She drops her arms, rolls her shoulders. “I don’t go places alone at night, I watch my exits, and now I’m staying with a professional fighter.”
“Liz—”
She cuts me off with a quick, small smile. “You did more than enough. Let me do my part. I’ll help you clean up the PR mess, you stop putting your career on the line for a woman you barely know.”
The problem is, I don’t need to know her to want her.
“You’re not going out alone. Take it or leave it. If you want to run, we go together. I was about to head out for roadwork anyway.”
She laughs. “I don’t think our tempo will match.”
“We’ll go at your pace. I’m in recovery for a few days anyway.”
One eyebrow lifts. There’s amusement in her eyes. “Suit yourself.”
She pops in her earbuds and opens the door.
I fall into step beside her.
