Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(48)

He pries the photos from my chest, but I refuse to let them go. I want him to continue to believe I’m good enough for him, and these photos are more evidence that I am not. In the tug-of-war, a couple fall to the ground where he scoops them up. He peers down at them before I can get them back.

“That sick f*ck,” he mumbles.

My entire body heats and I snag the photos from him, pressing them tightly to my chest with the others.

“Ax, give those to me. I’ll make them disappear.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want…” you to see them. “I can do it.”

He stares at me for a few weighted seconds before grabbing my backpack and slinging it over his shoulder; then he does the same with his. “Come on. We’re gonna be late for class.”

“Wait.”

He glares at me then growls. “We’re gonna be late.”

I hold out my hand. “I can carry my backpack.”

“What?” He grips my hand and tugs me away from the café. “I’ll walk you to class.”

I dig my heels in and pull my hand from his. “Killian, stop!”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Give me my backpack!”

He huffs and reluctantly slides it off his shoulder and hands it to me. I take it and stash the photos inside it before I slip on both straps and peer up at him. His face is etched in confusion. “You can’t keep cleaning up my messes, Kill.”

His cheek throbs with restraint, and I wonder what he’s calling me in his head, wonder if he’s regretting everything that’s happened between us. I wait to hear the words, “You two are perfect for each other” or some other reprimand for the photos. Tears burn my eyes, and when one slides down my cheek, Killian’s entire demeanor changes.

He steps in close; the warmth of his arms envelop me. “Don’t waste another tear on that prick, Ax.”

Comfort, I can accept. But he needs to stop trying to fix everything for me.

I relax into his hold and allow my feelings about the photos to leech out of me. “I was…so stupid. Clifford swore he’d erase them right after he took them.”

I hold him to me and remember his words from last night, his fear about me not being ready for all he wants for us. In order for things to work, he’s going to have to allow me to work things out on my own rather than stampeding me and taking over. Just like everyone else in my life.

“He lied. No shocker there.”

I pull back and blink up at him. “That’s true. I should’ve seen this coming.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; this isn’t your fault.” Killian wipes under my eyes. “Hate the fact that he has these. He’s probably passing them around to all his friends—”

“Oh my God!”

“Shit.” He grimaces. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You think he has more?”

He shrugs. “Nah, and besides, what’s done is done. If I find out he’s sharing these, I’ll f*cking mutilate him.” He dries my new tears and takes my hand. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

I walk alongside him. “What should I do with these pictures?”

“Burn ’em, shred ’em, bury ’em. You pick.”

My heart sinks as I consider how quickly my good mood was turned to shit. And now I have to worry about finding naked photos of me all over campus.

This day just went to hell.





Sixteen





Killian





Shredded. Double-bagged. They’re shoved to the bottom of her garbage and then thrown in the dumpster outside of her apartment complex, but I’m still sick about those photos of Axelle.

My girl’s naked body is being shared with who-f*cking-knows-who, and yeah, she may have only officially become my girl last night, but to me she’s been my girl since day one.

She’s dated some real winners in the past, but none of them have pulled a bullshit stunt like this. Clifford is a grade-A morally deprived piece of shit, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep him away from her.

I channel my frustration into every hit as I dance around the heavy bag. I’d usually spar with Rex today, but Cameron called him in for an emergency meeting. My guess is they’re planning the trip to London. It didn’t take long after I passed on the opportunity for them to fill the spot with a fighter out of Chicago. He’s making a name for himself up there, has some fights under his belt with a small organization, and just signed with the UFL.

I throw a combo to the bag, pushing back a wave of envy. He might have the dream career opportunity, but I got the dream girl. Besides, opportunities can be made. I plan on working hard to force open doors so that I’m able to provide Axelle with the life she deserves.

She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s the direction I’m heading—white dress, church bells, house, cars, kids, a f*cking dog—all of it.

Feeling eyes on me, I grip the bag to keep it still and turn to find Blake glaring. Shit. Does he know about Axelle?

I wipe sweat from my eyes with my forearm, which proves pointless because my forearm is just as sweaty. “Blake? What’s up?”