Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(59)

I throw my arms out. “You’re not listening! You are my life! All I’ve ever wanted is you!”

“That’s not true. You’re a UFL fighter, Kill. What do you think would happen if I took you up on your offer to take care of us, huh? Five years down the road when you’re still busting your ass to get fights and missing training because the kid is sick? Or what if I want to get my degree, and you end up being Daddy Daycare so I can take college courses. You’d grow resentful, and knowing you, you’d carry it around never saying shit, until one day you’d be forty and looking at me and you’d realize then I wasn’t worth it.”

“Bullshit! Don’t put your insecurities on me, Ax. I’ll always think you’re worth it. The only person around you who doesn’t think you’re worth it is you!”

A tear drips from her eyes. “And Stew and Trip and Clifford, and a string of other guys who let me go without a fight.”

I spit out a laugh and shake my head. “And yet here I am. This whole time I’ve been here fighting for you every f*cking second of every damn day, and you’re the one who’s letting me go.”

Her face crumbles and she cries. “Don’t you see? Whatever you think I am, I’m not. You’ll see it eventually; they all do.”

I bury my hands into her hair and force her eyes to mine. The heat of our breath mingles as our lips are mere inches apart. “Then don’t let me go, Axelle.” I press a soft kiss against her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. “Please”—I close my eyes and pray she hears—“don’t let me go.”

Her hands come to my wrists and hold me there. Seconds pass and she continues to clutch me to her. “I love you, Killian. Nothing will ever change that.”

Hope explodes in my chest until all too soon she steps back out of my hold. “No,” I whisper.

She shakes her head and tears fall from her jaw to her shirt. “Don’t hate me.”

I want to say I could never, but as a single hot stream tracks down my cheek, something dark expands in my chest. A billowing riot of outrage, heartache, and defeat swells until something inside me breaks. I can almost hear the audible snap as everything I’ve been holding back rushes to the surface and I see Axelle through new eyes.

She no longer resembles the girl I fell in love with, the woman I’ve come to adore. Now she’s just a girl who broke my heart.

And f*ck her for that.

Numbly, I move through the kitchen and past her. I’m not surprised when she does nothing to stop me. I pass through the living room and to the door with my head down. I don’t know if Blake and Layla are nearby, but it doesn’t matter. I have nothing to say to them.

I open and shut the door calmly, move to my Jeep, and fire up the engine. When I back out of the driveway, I’m hit with the scent of her perfume that still lingers in the vehicle, and just as I’d do to air out any smell, I roll the windows down.

Pulling my phone from the center console, I hit my contacts list, find the name I’m looking for, and hit “send.”

“Killian…” The growled greeting hits my ear, and again I feel nothing.

“What time does my plane leave for London tomorrow?”

Cam grunts. “It’s not. You turned it down, remember?”

“I had a change of heart.” Or death of heart.

“Sorry. Spot’s been taken.”

“Right.” I turn left to hop on the freeway. “I want it back.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “When did you get so f*cking stubborn?”

“Just give me a time, Cam, and I’ll be there.”

“You get a passport?”

“I did.”

He blows out a breath and, after a couple beats of silence, says, “United. Flight leaves at seven twenty tomorrow morning.”

“Tell Rex I’ll meet him at the gate.”

I hit “end” and toss my phone to the passenger seat.

Still, I feel nothing.





Twenty





Axelle





Drawing a figure-eight pattern in my Cocoa Puffs doesn’t make it taste any less like glue. My mom’s been trying to induce my appetite all morning, but it’s all been for nothing.

We both pretend it’s the pregnancy, but the sad smiles and sporadic hugs she’s been giving me make me think I’m not as good at covering up my true feelings as I’d like to think I am.

I didn’t go back to my place after Killian left yesterday. There’s no way I’m ready to face Mindy—admitting my stupidity to three people was enough for one day—and my mom insisted I shouldn’t be alone. I wanted to scream that she was wrong and people needed to stop telling me what to do, but I was too emotionally exhausted to fight. I slept most of the remainder of the day away, and considering how much I slept, I was surprised I was able to sleep well last night. It was almost as if my body forced my brain to abandon ship in order to protect it from going down alongside my heart.

The bad part of sleeping for thirteen straight hours through is waking up rested at five o’clock in the morning. The moment my eyes opened all systems were back online and replaying the last twenty-four hours in vivid detail. How quickly life can go from unlimited possibilities to being stripped of all possibilities. No matter how many times I replay yesterday’s events, I can’t bring myself to regret the decision I made.