Scooping up the bag, he handed it back to a confused Molly. She took them hesitantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re right. I used to always want these. I don’t anymore. Like I said, I want different things now,” Rory told her, opening the front door, hoping she understood that he was asking her to leave. Ace jumped up and joined him at his feet.

“Whatever, you’ll change your mind. You always do. You’ll be back.” She sauntered toward the door, a tight-lipped grimace on her face as she glared at him.

“Bye, Molly.”

She leaned down to pet Ace as Rory spoke, but he growled as usual and she changed her mind.

“You need to put that dog through some obedience training. It’s a menace.” Her words were laced with scorn.

“I’ll get right on that,” he replied sarcastically, petting Ace on the head.

Rory watched her leave, wondering if he had really changed. For the first time, he had just picked something else over drugs. Actually, he had picked someone else. He wanted Clare, and he wanted her more than he wanted the pills.

That’s a first.

“Please tell me that this is a fucking joke.” Rory pulled out of his thoughts to see Casey standing in front of him, pointing at Molly’s retreating figure.

“What?” He was confused as to why she seemed so angry.

“You’re sleeping with that bimbo? Seriously? Clare hasn’t even been gone a full day yet, and you’re already with someone else?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Rory began as Casey pushed her way into his apartment.

“Then what is it like, Rory? Because it looks like you’re back to sleeping around and doing drugs and all the shit you used to do before you met Clare!”

“I’m not sleeping with her—she just stopped by and I told her to leave.”

“I hope for your sake that is true, because Clare’s the best thing I’ve seen happen to you in a long time. You’re an entirely different person since you met her. Actually, not different—you’re like the old Rory, before the injury, even before the fame. I want that Rory back, and Clare is that for you. Plus, she is perfect for this family, so you better not ruin it.”

“Too late for that,” he scoffed, remembering how Clare had looked at him this morning.

“It’s not. She loves you and misses you. She just wants you not to be such a fuckup, like her ex.” Casey sat in a chair at the breakfast bar, which separated the kitchen from the living room. Ace came and lay down at her feet, and she gently stroked him with her shoe, not wanting to actually touch him.

“What does her ex have to do with this?”

“She said he was a dealer, or a user, something like that. Either way, it clearly made her never want to be around drugs again. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be, either, and I’ve never been through half of what she has.” Casey’s words made his blood boil as he remembered the fear in Clare’s eyes when she had mentioned her ex.

“She never told me that part.” He felt guiltier than ever now that he knew this, and at the same time, even more glad that he had turned away Molly and her offer. He had chosen Clare over drugs, something it sounded like her ex had never done. His thoughts halted for a moment as he thought back to something Casey had said.

“Wait—did you say she loves me?” He stood up straighter and stared intently at his cousin, whose gaze shifted uneasily.

“Uh, you’re going to have to talk to her about that one.”

“You just said that! How do you know that?”

“Slip of the tongue. I don’t know anything.” Casey got up and headed to the door, but he circled around in front of her.

“Casey, tell me: Does she love me?” He wasn’t sure why he was harping on this, but he had to know. The thought hadn’t ever occurred to him before, that she could possibly love him.

That she might love me back.

“Rory, give her the day to relax. Go apologize to Kane, help him win his fight, then talk to Clare tomorrow. Don’t come see her until you have your shit together, okay? She deserves at least that.” Casey slipped around him and opened the door.

“She’s staying with you?”

“Yes, which is another thing you need to talk to her about. She needs your help. It’s not my place to say, but it’s pretty serious.” With that, Casey left, not explaining further what she meant.

Anxiety coursed through him as he worried for Clare, hoping she was okay. He was definitely confused as to why she had suddenly left her phone, her apartment, everything, just to go live with his cousin. Luckily, he had trained Casey well in the ring, and in life, so he was sure that Clare was safe.

He had to admit to himself that Casey was right. He needed to go find his brother and get things squared away there first. He turned to find Ace standing by the door where Casey had just left.

Traitor, Rory thought as he looked down at his dog. If a woman was mad at him, the dog loved her. Maybe Ace did need obedience training, after all; he seemed confused about who his master was.

Chapter 17

When Rory walked into Legends the next morning with Ace, he was greeted with an icy glare from Kane, who quickly went back to punching a heavy bag in front of him. Rory had to remind himself that he deserved the hostility after the way he had acted the day before.

“What did that bag ever do to you? You’re really wailing on it,” Rory said, leaning against the wall a few feet from where his brother was aggressively attacking the bag. Ace stayed a few extra feet back, warily watching the swaying object.

“I’m pretending it’s someone I know,” his brother tossed back.

“Would it help if I just put a picture of my face on it?”

“It’d help more if it was your actual face.”

“Would it, though? You’ve never been fast enough to hit me before.”

“Fuck you, Rory.” Kane glowered at him for a moment, before replacing his scowl with a grin. The men grasped hands and patted each other roughly on the back as their shoulders met in a standard male greeting.

“I’m sorry, man,” Rory said as he pulled away, being serious for a moment.

“Forget about it.” Kane waved his gloved hand. It had always been that easy between them—between all the brothers, actually. They fought hard but forgave easily. Blood ran thicker than any argument. Long explanations or conversations weren’t needed; they knew one another well enough to be sure there were no bad intentions between them.

“You ready for tonight?” Rory asked, grabbing a wrap bandage from a nearby gym station and beginning to tape his wrists.

“Not even close. It’s going to be a shitfest,” Kane said. “I shouldn’t even be going.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I can’t do this shit, not like you could! My jabs are more like a damn hook, my takedowns are lucky at best, and my chokes couldn’t choke a damn cat.” Frustration seeped from Kane as he paced back and forth.

“Well, let’s see what you’ve got, then.” Rory motioned toward the closest empty ring.

Having finishing taping up his wrists, he followed Kane in. Rory thought his brother was probably just nervous about tonight’s fight being a qualifier for the regionals—he’d shown himself to be a fairly decent fighter in all the times Rory had watched him and trained with him. Ace followed them to the ring and stood outside it, watching them.

Rory knew that with more time and practice, Kane had the potential to be great, but he also knew that Kavanagh boys weren’t raised to accept unsolicited praise. They were raised to work for and earn everything that they had, despite their privileged upbringing. So telling Kane that he was worried for nothing was not going to make him feel better. Rory had to show him.