Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(60)

I had to let him go.

Taking him up on what he was offering would’ve been the most selfish thing I could’ve done. And frankly, I’m sick and tired of being selfish.

I’m tired of the guilt, tired of feeling like shit all the time.

Because behind all this heartbreak and sadness there’s a flicker of good; for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m actually proud of myself because I did the opposite of what felt good. I did what was right.

Even if it meant crushing my soul.

“You really need to eat something.” My mom slides a plate of fresh cut cantaloupe beside my uneaten bowl of cereal. “It’s not good for you or the baby.” She bites her lip and her eyes fill with tears.

I cover her hand with mine, my eyes filling right along with hers. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She shakes her head and pulls herself together with a shaky smile. “Don’t be sorry. Some of our biggest mistakes end up being our greatest blessings.” She kisses my forehead and moves to the kitchen sink to wash dishes.

I suck a few pieces of fruit into my mouth, and the sweet juice bursts on my tongue. Finally, something I can eat. I make my way through a few more pieces when Blake comes in and drops into the seat next to me. “How’re you doing today?”

I shrug. “Good, I guess.”

He seems conflicted about something, but gets over it quickly. “What’s the plan?”

“Ha, like there’s a plan.”

My mom sips her coffee. “One day at a time.”

“I think I need to go talk to Clifford.” My stomach bottoms out at the thought of telling him I’m pregnant. I can’t even imagine how he’ll respond to the news. I’ll give him the option to be involved and pray he accepts responsibility. This baby deserves to know his or her father—deserves better than I had.

Mom purses her lips. “I don’t know if you’re ready for that.”

Blake nods his agreement. “Take some time. You need to—”

“Stop!”

Their eyes widen and dart to each other as if to say what did we do?

“I’m sorry. I…” I rub my forehead and try to relax. “I appreciate your support, but you guys have got to stop trying to tell me what to do, okay? Your hearts are in the right place, but I have to make these decisions on my own. I’m going to talk to Clifford today.”

My mom flashes a thin smile as if she’s holding back what she wants to say, which I know has to be hard, but I appreciate her respecting my wishes.

Blake makes a sound like he’s sucking on his teeth. “What time you wanna head over there?”

It’s Sunday. Chances are he’ll be home, most likely sleeping in. “The earlier the better. If I wake him up, I’ll be able to catch him while he’s still sober.”

Blake groans but receives a sharp look from my mom that shuts him up. “Alright.” He claps his hands. “Get showered and we’ll head over to Cliff’s place to wake his ass up.”

I whirl around to face him. “No way. I’m doing this alone.”

He lifts a brow.

“I’m serious!” I groan and fix my eyes on him. “Did you not just hear what I said? Besides, I can’t show up to drop this kind of bomb with my professional fighter dad at my back.”

His shoulders tense. “That’s exactly how you should show up.”

I whip around. “Mom!”

“Blake, maybe you should—”

“Mouse, you met this guy?”

She rolls her lips between her teeth.

“Exactly. You wanna trust some f*ckhole who she needs to talk to early while he’s ‘still sober’”—he uses air quotes—“when we have zero idea how he’s gonna react to this news? Tell me that’s what you want, Mouse.”

She twirls her hair so fast the end of the strand whips around to make a little blond tornado. “He’s got a point.”

I drop my head into my hands. “You guys, please, be rational.”

“He’ll wait outside, right, Blake?”

“Fuck, yeah.” He shrugs. “I’ll wait outside.”

I glare at him. “Promise.”

“Yep, promise.”

There’s something unspoken going on between the two of them, but I’ve been in this position enough times to know I won’t win this fight.

“Fine. I’ll grab a shower and we’ll go.”

“Wonderful.” Blake smiles, but it’s all teeth. “Looking forward to it.”

Dammit to hell.

*





Killian





I’m weaving through crowds of people as they put their carry-on luggage back together after passing through security. I dropped a duffle bag at curbside checkin, containing everything I’m bringing with me, gym clothes for every season and my toothbrush. It’s not nearly enough for a year in London, but my plan is to spend every waking minute training, and I don’t need much for that. My backpack hangs off my shoulders, heavy with my laptop and a few of my favorite books I couldn’t stand to leave behind.

The rest of the things in my place I’ll never see again.

Including Axelle’s bag filled with her things left over from our night together.