Page 29 of Unbreakable Thread

“She was in her final moments. Jenna asked me to come when she was alone.” He clears his throat. “Jenna said it was urgent, but it had to be given to you a little after her passing. I apologize. It slipped, and we completely forgot.”

I grab the pen on top of the dresser, jot down the address, and tell him I will head down to his office when I get a chance, then set the phone down. What could the woman who kept so many secrets have to say? More secrets. It’s always more secrets with that woman. Why couldn’t she give it to me in person before her passing? Because she was a coward. Or because she loved me. I still don’t know which. Jenna Collins is a mystery.

“Rain?” Max’s husky voice startles me, causing me to leap onto the bed. He laughs. “What’s going on? Why are you getting spooked?”

My damn heart is going a mile a minute. Holy shit. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” My hand goes to my chest. “Ay, mi corazón.”

“I called your name like three times.” He rubs his palm on my chest, soothing my thumping heart. “Where’s that head of yours, hmm?”

“Oh, um…Well, I received a call⁠—”

His phone rings. “Can you give me just a minute, tesoro? I need to take this.”

I nod.

Four days since the fight, and the phone hadn’t stopped. Seven calls before breakfast. Papers from Bob spread across the dining table. Max moving between rooms with his phone pressed to his ear, nodding, saying yes, absolutely, I can make that work. I watched him from the doorway with my coffee. He didn’t see me standing there. He was somewhere else. Somewhere good by the grin on his face. I didn’t interrupt. Four days ago, in the ring, he’d already said yes to Isaac Barreca. Now the world was catching up. I’d watched the fight recording twice. The second time I watched Patrick fall, I had to remind myself to breathe. The way Max fights…is…amazing.

“Yeah, sure, I can head down there…thank you, I appreciate it,” Max says into the phone. “It’s always been a dream of mine.” His voice has that professional quality I’m still learning to recognize. “I wouldn’t let anything get in my way. I’ve worked hard for this,” Max tells him. “See you in a bit.”

Max hangs up the line. He turns on his heels to face me. I’m still on the bed. “That was Bob. Barreca’s promoter agreed to terms this morning. ESPN is locked in.” Max shoves his hands in his pockets, that dimple appears. “Eight months, tesoro. Vegas. Main event. The commission paperwork is next, but it’s happening. It’s really happening.”

Eight months.

Like it’s nothing.

He said it so easily, like he had forgotten to mention it.

I hop off the bed and run into his arms anyway. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you. You’re going to win this one, too. I know it.” I give him a wink. A low chuckle escapes him, sending that familiar shiver racing down my back. He kisses me like he has nowhere to be, even though he does.

“Thank you, baby. I’m going to head out to Bob’s office. I need to oversee some paperwork he has for me to sign. Then, I need to schedule an interview with ESPN.” My oversized shirt slides off my shoulder. Max drops a kiss on my bare skin and then pulls it up. “I need to go, amor. I have a full day today. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Oh, okay.”

I’ll wait up. I always do. He knows it.

“Will you be okay, Rain?”

I nod and muster a smile. A sudden noose ties around my neck. I don’t know what it is, but I feel sick to my stomach. Like something bad is going to happen. Is it paranoia or superstition? “I’ll be fine.”

“If you need me, give me a call or come by the office.”

“Don’t worry about me. I love you.” I’m not sure why, but the words come out almost in a whisper.

Max’s sharp hearing picks up on anything. “I love you too. What was it you were going to tell me?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Have a great day.”

Our lips mingle in the sweetest, most amazing kiss that leaves my body tingling. “See you later.”

And he’s gone.

I peel off my sweater, the static crackling through my hair, and kick off my shorts. The bathroom tiles send a chill up through my bare feet as I twist the shower knob. Steam rises, fogging the mirror, and I test the water with my fingertips before stepping into the shower. We usually go for a run together, or we spar, but today I slept in, and he didn’t wake me.

An unknown caller flashes on my cellphone. I rush to tug my jeans on. “Hello,” I answer, reaching for my shirt and then slipping it on.

“Ney?”

What the fuck?