Page 21 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

FITZ

In the month since I’ve been back, Lauren has been more unlike herself than I’ve ever seen her before.

It’s unsettling and quite frankly, starting to piss me off.

She’s not showing up early, her eating habits have changed, she barely mumbles a word when I press buttons I know would usually cause her to blow up in my face, and she hasn’t so much as cracked a smile since the day I got back and it’s infuriating how much I miss seeing it.

I’d even settle for one of those god-forsaken eye rolls right now.

Anything to know she’s still in there. So to find out, I do the only thing I know to do to get a response out of her.

“What the fuck is this, Lauren?” She flinches at the mention of her name. Not sure I’ve ever called her anything other than Trouble—except the condescending Sweetheart I throw around every now and then.

“A sales report, Fitz.” God, her voice sounds as empty as she looks.

I scoff, “A sad excuse for one, maybe. What’s going on?” She remains expressionless and stares at her computer. No typing. No scrolling of her mouse. Just staring at a blank screen as she remains silent.

“Let’s go.” Her eyes lazily drag up to mine.

“Where?”

“Tell you on the way.” Pain settles between her brows and she shakes her head.

“No.” The fact that there’s no fight in her whatsoever is alarming.

“Is whatever is going on with you really so bad that you’re willing to just give up like this?” Her eyes slice back to mine. There it is… anger .

“Fuck you, Fitzgerald.” She snatches her bag from the floor beside her and rounds the desk.

“Stop acting like you know everything about me. You don’t know a damn thing so why don’t you make my life a little bit better and stay the hell out of it.

” My hand wraps around her arm before I can think better of it and her jawline sharpens as she glares up at me.

“No.” Surprise flashes across her face as quickly as she yanks free of my grip, then she slams her office door behind her, closing me in.

I’ll fucking get her back. No matter how pissed off she gets at me in the process.

I take advantage of being alone in Lauren’s office, doing my due diligence to snoop while I have the chance.

She’s an insanely organized individual, which is why I’m taken aback by how messy her desk is right now.

There are papers and half-empty energy drink cans all over it.

I walk around and glance over everything, careful not to mess anything up.

In case by some slim chance, she’s one of those wild ones who knows when her mess has been messed with.

Then I see a green pamphlet that stands out amongst all the white papers surrounding it, so I pick it up and read it.

In loving memory of Allen Gates

Well, fuck.

I toss the program back down on the desk and sigh. I have no idea who this guy is, or what he may have meant to her, but the fact that it was sitting on top of her desk— a month after the date of the funeral arrangements listed on the back—tells me there’s a good chance this is why she’s been off.

I am an asshole—and this time I don’t feel good about it.

I gotta get out of this damn office.

As soon as I open the door Luther is standing in the hallway, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Something I can help you with there, Luther?” His face morphs into one full of shock and a little bit of…sass?

“Whatever you did kicked a little bit of life back into her, which I guess is good, but buddy you pissed her the hell off.”

I smirk to myself and pat him on the shoulder. “I can handle her.”

Hall’s Gym.

Maybe this place will be better than the less-than-desirable gym in my hotel. I hike my bag over my shoulder and walk through the door, immediately met with the smell of sweat and sanitizer.

“Welcome to Hall’s,” a guy behind the front desk greets me as I take in the space. I am already more pleased with what I see than when I first walked into the stale gym in the basement of my current residence. “First time here?”

I nod, dropping my bag at my feet. “Yeah.”

“Well, are you looking for a guest pass for the day or a membership? A membership gives you access to our new boxing area and the sauna.” I look at him in anticipation for more, but his eyebrows raise as he waits for my response.

“Uh, I guess just give me a membership then.” I flip my wallet open and pull out some cash to pay for the year—whether I’m here for another month or the rest of my life—which feels like a possibility with as many months as I’ve already been here.

This acquisition feels like it’s taking a lot longer than most, but I haven’t had the energy to care why.

Plus, I don’t really mind it. I’ve found something, someone rather, to entertain my time while here.

After filling out the membership information I take my things and head onto the floor.

I’m halfway through my workout when I see three familiar faces walk through the door and one I don’t quite recognize.

“Who’s going in with me today?” The guy who picked up Lauren from work a couple of months ago asks the other three.

“I’m not even saying anything because you know I’m out until the season is officially over,” the guy with longer hair answers.

“I think getting my ass handed to me yesterday was enough to last me at least a month.” Bar owner.

“As much as I have always dreamed of beating the shit out of my little brother, I’m getting married in a few weeks so I’d rather avoid having my beautiful bride yell at me for getting blemished.” The red-headed guy slaps him on the back and he groans.

“Pussies. All of you.” I almost snort when he slaps them all in a row with a towel he just pulled from his bag.

“Oh my god, dude. Did you dry your fucking ball sweat with that towel? Why does it smell like that?!” The older brother covers his nose and slaps him in the back of the head.

“That's what a man smells like, dude. It’s understandable you don’t recognize the scent.

” I realize I’ve completely stopped my workout to eavesdrop on this conversation like a fucking creep, but it did give me a good laugh—and the urge to spar with this complete stranger. Fuck it, how bad could it be?

“You need someone to spar with?” I ask, approaching them from the weight bench I was just working at.

“Oz. What are you doing here?” How clever.

“Working out somewhere better than the stale gym in the hotel I’m staying at.”

“The fuck did you just call him? I thought his name was like… Lucy or something?” the red-headed guy says.

“Lucifer,” the guard dog corrects, staring at me with his arms now crossed over his chest.

“Uh, hey. I’m Sawyer,” the guy with long hair introduces himself. The most unthreatening of all of them so far.

“Hey man, it’s Fitz, actually, but I admire Lauren’s term of endearment choice.” The red-headed guy barks out a laugh at that.

“My bad man. I’m Tucker.” He holds out his hand to shake mine. I nod and shake it, looking over at the broody one.

“I could keep referring to you in my head as The Bar Owner if you’d like—” He huffs and it almost looks like he smirks.

“Max.” He holds up a fist and I bump it, turning to look at the last man standing. Who does not offer me his name.

“So you want to spar then?”

I shrug in agreement. “Let’s do it.” I notice as the other guys share glances with each other but think nothing of it and glove up. Not even five minutes in the ring and I’m on my ass.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumble and the dog finally cracks a smile. Of course he’s pleased with my pain.

“What’s the matter, Big Money? Daddy never taught you how to fight?”

The fuck is wrong with this guy? And no, he didn’t, dammit.

I get back up and we go another few rounds where I actually get a couple of good shots in.

Pleased with myself; I let my guard down, apparently, and he gets one last hit in and I go down hard.

I lie on my back, breathing heavily with no desire to get back up.

I toss my gloves, sit up with my arms draped over my knees, and look up to see Tucker offering me his hand.

“Probably should have warned you that you were getting in with a former Marine with like, ten years of martial arts training.”

Goddamn. Yeah, that would have been useful information.

“Yeah. Maybe mention that to the next guy.”

“So, how do you know Lauren?” Sawyer asks, the others clearly listening for the answer too.

“We work together,” I answer simply.

“Did you steal her favorite pens or put a push pin in her chair or something?” Tucker laughs and I give him a confused look. “Must have done something shitty to earn the nickname Lucifer .” I chuckle, thinking of my little troublemaker getting worked up enough to call me the devil.

“No, but she thinks I tried stealing her printer.”

“Why?” Max asks, clearly confused.

“Because I borrowed it one day when she was out of the office.” I shrug.

“Well, maybe don’t touch shit that isn’t yours.”

“I was going to put it back. If it makes you feel better, she yelled at me for it.” I offer as some sort of peace offering, seeing as how my very existence seems to bother this guy almost as much as I think it bothers Lauren sometimes.

“I’ll let you guys get back to your workout. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” I start exiting the ring, mumbling, “Sorry in advance for that, I guess.” As I pass the guy whose name I still don’t know. When I make it to my gym bag, I pull my phone out and see a text from my father.

Dad

June 10th, sales conference. Be back on the 8th, ask Jessica to go with you. People like the look of you two.

Would it be an overreaction to throw my phone into oncoming traffic and claim I never got the text? I’d rather peel my own skin off with a vegetable peeler than take Jessica Vanderbilt to another social event.