But then he sobers and locks my gaze onto his. "This isn't something you should be ashamed of," he says, knowing my thoughts in a way that only Tristan can. "Any reason is a good enough reason to quit this sport, even at the pro level. It's too hard, too dangerous, to do when you don't want to do it. No one but you would look at it like you're giving up."
I sigh and sit back in my seat, feeling like a weight is slowly starting to lift off my chest. Leave it to Tristan to lecture me in a matter-of-fact way that actually eases my nerves. "That's what Hailey said, too."
Tristan's stare doesn't waver. For a moment, he just studies me. Then, "She's a smart girl."
I nod, looking down at my drink, swirling in my glass. "She is," I murmur.
Tristan is quiet for another minute. When he speaks, his voice has almost gentled. "You seem like you still enjoy training and coaching, but lately it's felt like your priorities have changed. Like you're more interested in moving on from the young man's sport and settling down a little bit more. You like work, you like taking time off, you like being with your friends and family. That's enough for you now, isn't it? That's what you want to settle into?"
Finally, I look up to meet his eyes. He's nailed it, of course. Idowant to settle down. Not with a house and kids kind of way, but in a life kind of way. I like theideaof settling, of being in a comfortable point in my life. Even at twenty-six, I feel like I've hit a point where I know what I want.
My only answer for Tristan is a nod.
And in the way that only men can communicate, he nods back.
"Then do that," he says simply.
I chuckle at the simplicity of his conclusion, even though he's right. And suddenly—or maybe not so suddenly—I've made my decision to retire from MMA.
A peace settles over me. Between Hailey and Tristan, I feel like I've finally decided on something that I didn't realize was causing me a lot of stress the past few weeks.
I glance up to thank him but get distracted when I notice the glass in his hand for the first time. I frown in confusion. "Since when do you drink tequila? I thought you were a whiskey drinker."
A small smile tips the edges of his lips as he looks down onto the dancefloor. "It's a new thing," he murmurs, mostly to himself.
I follow his gaze, and of course, he's looking at Remy. She and Hailey are at the center of the dancefloor, shaking their hips and clearly having fun.
My attention inevitably drifts to Hailey. She’s laughing at something Remy said, her skin glistening with sweat and her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol and the heat. She has the body of a dancer and the moves to back it up—watching her dance is mesmerizing. I can’t help staring as she raises her hands above her head, can’t help following the line of her body as she sways…
As I'm watching, I see a guy sidle up to them with a smile.
The air becomes suddenly stifling as both Tristan and I immediately stiffen.
But he doesn't touch them or even get too close, and both girls continue to smile. I hear Remy let out a loud laugh. The guy seems pleased with her reaction, but it's Hailey that he leans down to whisper to. With a small smile, she just looks at him and nods. He grins and steps up behind her, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her against his body. They easily start to sway to the beat.
If I thought I was stiff before, it's nothing compared to how I'm feeling right now. My inner Neanderthal wants nothing more than to jump the VIP barrier and rip the guy's arms from his body for daring to evenaskto touch her.
But, I'm not a Neanderthal. And I have no claim to Hailey. So I have no right to be upset about the fact that she accepted a dance from a good-looking guy. She's a beautiful girl, of course someone was going to ask her to dance. I should be grateful the guy actually asked and didn't just dance up on her like a lot of drunk assholes like to do.
Still, my rage continues to simmer below the surface. I've spent over a decade looking out for Hailey and I've seen way too many douchebags try to come onto her over the years. It's a natural reaction to want to protect her. Of course I want to rip him away from her.
I somehow manage to keep myself from jumping up and doing just that. I watch as the three of them dance together for a few minutes, Hailey's body moving easily against his, and Remy dancing by herself right in front of her. I should know Remy would never leave her sister unprotected—sometimes I wonder if she's more protective than even I am.
I tell myself that when, after the song ends, Remy leaves Hailey on the dancefloor and makes her way over to where we are. She's dramatically fanning herself when she plops down on the lounge next to Tristan. And I swear I hear himgrowlas he buries his face in her sweaty neck.
I can't actually see what they're doing because I haven't taken my eyes off of Hailey.
"Jax, she's fine," Remy says, and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "I wouldn't have left her if she wasn't. He was really nice and just wanted to dance with her."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's all he wants," I growl. When I turn to look at her, she really is rolling her eyes.
"She needs to reacquaint herself with acceptable and unacceptable male behavior. Steve has her so fucked up that she doesn't even know what's right anymore." She nods in the direction of where they're dancing. "He went about it the right way. He complimented her, asked without touching, and waited until she said yes before he did anything. Acceptable."
I sigh in defeat, knowing she's right. Hailey even said something to that effect before.
It's just harder than I anticipated lettinganyman around her again.
"She's not going home with a stranger in Vegas," I grunt, refusing to admit total defeat. It's not that I'm against women having one-night stands, I just don't likeherdoing it in a city where she doesn't know anyone or anything.