of our fathers are holding over our heads from that night. That way if we ever got pulled up into court to testify, none of us would have anything to say. It’s an agreement we’ve stuck by since we made it, and I don’t plan on nullifying it now.
“Something from my past surfaced. I’m going to deal with it.” I begin to remove my gloves.
“Is it going to be a problem?” He looks warily at me.
“Not if she believes my story.” Truth is, I don’t know if she will. And even if she does, it’s not like it’s going to cast me in the best light anyway.
He nods knowingly.
“What’s under your skin?” I ask.
He’s contemplative for a moment. “Went to visit my mom earlier. Didn’t like what I saw.”
Enough said.
We’ve both got our shit to deal with.
I throw both gloves on the floor and remove my helmet. “Wish me luck.” I push down the middle rope and climb out of the ring.
“I don’t think you need luck, Stone. I hear the way Isla talks about you. She’s got your back.”
He sounds so sure. If only I was.
The entire way back up to my condo, I wonder if Isla will still be there. I can’t blame her if she calls everything off after the way I ran out. Relief swamps me when I step through the doors and hear the TV on in the main room.
She stayed. She didn’t leave. That has to be a good sign.
She must have heard the elevator, because the sound of the TV cuts off before I reach the main room. I step in with my head down, feeling like a pussy and an asshole for running away.
“Hey,” I say and slowly raise my head. She sits on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest, scowl in place.
As soon as she takes in my face, she bolts up off the couch. “Oh my God! What happened to your face?” She rushes over and her hand hovers over my swollen and cut lip.
“Ford has a mean right hook.” I shrug.
Her hand drops and she steps back. “You got into a fistfight with Ford?”
I shake my head. “No, we were sparring in the gym. We both needed to get some aggression out.”
She nods slowly, biting her bottom lip, her eyes glassy. “Garrin, what’s going on? What is that photograph about?”
At least she’s giving me a chance to explain. She really is too good for me. With a sigh, I lead her over to the couch by her hand. We sit facing each other, and I release her hand because after I tell her, she’s not going to want to touch me.
“It was taken on prom night,” I say.
“By who? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know.” She tilts her head as if to say yeah, right. “I really don’t. Most likely by someone my father was paying to keep tabs on me. That’s something he’s done my whole life.”
“Okaaay…”
“We had a housekeeper who worked for us, and she had a daughter who would sometimes come to the house to help her mom out if my dad had put her on one of his more demanding projects that week. We used to talk sometimes. She’d flirt with me, but I wasn’t interested because I was hung up on you.”
She tilts her head, listening intently, so I continue.
“After you slept with Asher and I released the tape, I felt like such a dick that I didn’t really care anymore. I was looking for anything to numb myself, so when she came on to me that night, I agreed to take her to the after prom party at the hotel. The guys all had rooms. It wasn’t my intention to sleep with her, but I did—not knowing she was a virgin until then.” I shake my head and push my hand through my hair. Talking to Isla about this has to be one of the most uncomfortable conversations of my life.
“I’m confused. Why would someone send me this picture, then? It’s not like I don’t know that you’ve slept with other women.” She frowns.
“My guess is for the same reason my dad tried to hold it over my head since that night—they think it’s related to Nova Brookes’ murder.”
Her eyes widen and she shifts in her seat. “Does it?” She swallows and holds her breath.
“No! Of course not!” I stand from the couch, unable to sit any longer. She’s quiet, and after I’ve paced a couple lengths of the room, I