Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(59)

"Oh my God," I breathe when I find a picture of Slate kissing me yesterday before I left for the grocery store. The headline reads: Slate Andrews caught with mystery woman. Could she be the reason behind his sudden departure from professional boxing?

"We have to go," Leo barks at me.

"We’ve been over this. I’m not leaving him," I respond, never tearing my eyes off the black-and-white image in front of me.

"Even dumbass Wilkes will be able to track down Slate Andrews. We have to leave," Leo growls while Slate remains surprisingly silent.

"Wait. Where are the rest of them?" I say, flipping through the paper. "There’s got to be more than just this."

"That’s the only one they published," Leo says, calming only momentarily.

"You can’t see my face. His hands are covering it. No harm, no foul." I nonchalantly drop it back to the bed.

Slate slings his head to face me, and Leo gives me the most ridiculous look possible before snapping, "Are you still drunk?"

"No. But I’m not going to freak out over a picture of Slate’s hands and a woman with dark hair."

"You can see enough," he responds, but it’s Slate’s reaction that really catches me off guard.

"He’s right. You need to go."

"What?" Leo and I both question at the exact same time.

"We’re so close to this being done. We can’t afford something like this now. You need to go. I’ll give you some money to set you two up for a while and continue with security, but you can’t stay here with me."

"Stop," I squeak out as his rejection causes my heart to physically hurt. I know he’s being rational, but what happened to the man who swore he would never leave me? The one who said he would fight until the ends of the earth for me? "What are you saying?"

"I love you. This is only temporary, beautiful. So get that hurt off your face. I’m sorry, but he’s right. Wilkes would have absolutely zero issues finding me. There’s an end in sight and I’m not going to f*ck it up by being selfish enough to put you in danger."

"Bullshit! That’s exactly what you did when we left the program. That’s exactly what we both did. We chose to stay together and not let this mess dictate our relationship. I’m not leaving."

"Then I will," he says sadly. "You’re right. That picture isn’t too bad, and I don’t think anyone could recognize you, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg. Now the paparazzi are going to be on me twenty-four-seven. I’ve never had a public relationship before, and with the news of my retirement, people are dying to find a reason to explain why I suddenly called it quits. They aren’t going to let up until they know absolutely everything about you. Wilkes may as well have just hired a hundred new men to track you. I’m sorry, but Leo’s right. You have to go."

"Oh, so it’s temporary, huh? What happens if Wilkes gets arrested before Rodriguez kills him? Or if it takes years before he can track him down? What then? Are you just going to stay away from me for years?"

"No. This will all die down eventually. People will forget about me as time passes."

"Oh my God. You can’t be that stupid," I smart off, letting my true bitchiness fly.

In reality, I’m just pissed and terrified that, if he leaves now, he won’t come back. I’m secure in my relationship with Slate. I believe that he loves me, but what if we separate and he realizes how easy his life could be with another woman. Someone who isn’t broken, damaged, or ruined. Someone who wouldn’t possibly get him killed.

"Excuse me?" he responds with almost as much attitude as I threw at him.

"They aren’t going to forget you any more than they have Tyson, Foreman, or Ali."

"While I love your bitchy little compliment, I am hardly Ali."

"No, you’re worse. You’re mysterious and gorgeous, and you decided to walk away while you were at your absolute peak. Your fans aren’t going to just forget about you any more than I could. But apparently I’m the only one who feels that way in this relationship."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He raises his voice, but Leo jumps in the middle, ironically becoming the rational one of the group.

"All right, everyone. Just calm down. We can figure this out. You two stop bickering. No one is forgetting anyone. I may have overreacted. Let’s just take a breath and talk this out. Erica’s right. You can’t see her face. I’m going to call in a buddy and see if he can flash a badge and see where they got that picture and, most importantly, if more exist. They may not be willing to tell me, but it can’t hurt to ask. Now you two cuddle, f*ck, make love, or whatever the hell you guys do in there. But just make up. Let me look into a couple of options and then we can figure it out—without name calling or being a bitch." He lifts a brow at me, but I only roll my eyes.

He walks out, leaving me with a very pissed-off version of my usually laid-back man.

"I need to go," he says flatly as I flop facedown on the bed.

"You’re not going," I tell the bed.

"Stop being stubborn. You know this is the right thing to do this time."

"I don’t give a shit if it’s the rightest thing to ever exist. You’re not going."