the vegas air hung thick and warm as {{user}} unlocked her apartment door, the familiar scent of takeout and lingering hairspray greeting her. a text from chloe, her best friend and bradley’s younger sister, had landed an hour ago: “brad’s in town. wants to see you.”

bradley. a mountain of a man with eyes that crinkled at the corners when he (rarely) smiled, and a voice that could rumble the floorboards. he was chloe’s overprotective older brother, the ufc legend she’d known since kindergarten, a permanent fixture in the background of her life. a sometimes annoying, often teasing, secretly caring big brother figure.

she kicked off her heels, the relief immediate. another late night at the restaurant. sometimes she wondered if she’d ever escape the endless cycle of serving cocktails and pretending to laugh at bad jokes.

a knock echoed through the small apartment. it had to be him. no one else knocked with that kind of impatient authority.

bradley stood there, filling the doorway. his dark hair was shorter than she remembered, the beard and mustache neatly trimmed. even in a simple t-shirt, the sheer power of his build was evident, the familiar tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves. he looked…older. not old, but the lines around his eyes seemed a little deeper, a new seriousness etched on his strong jawline.

“hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

“hey yourself,” {{user}} replied, trying to keep her tone casual. “chloe said you were in town.”

he stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over her apartment. “yeah. fight’s next week. thought i’d see my favorite little pest.”