Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(91)

~~~

I pull my phone out of my pocket and head for a quiet corner away from Fleur’s incessant screeching. I quickly add Axelle’s new number to my contacts, storing the important information from her card.

I scroll through my contacts for a different number, and once I find it, I hit “send.”

Ryder answers after only a few rings.

“See what I did there, *? Phone rings; I pick it up. It wasn’t even that hard. You should give it a shot sometime.”

“You’re still pissed.”

“Yeah. So you’re obviously calling for a reason. Dad said you were coming back. I’m assuming you want your shit. I gave the key to your storage place to my dad. He’s got all the info.”

“That’s not why I’m calling. I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

I groan and drop my chin. “Really? So that’s it.”

“I’m headed into class right now—”

“I’ll meet you on campus.”

“Are you kidding? That’ll cause a f*cking mob.”

He’s probably right. “What about—?”

“Meet me at my pad in two hours.”

My muscles release the tension I didn’t even know I was holding. “Thanks, man. I—”

The line disconnects.

He agreed to hear me out, which is more than I expected.

I shove my phone into my pocket and slide down the wall to plant my ass on the concrete floor. And for the next two hours, I stare at that massage room door. Ollie and Fleur are busy picking Blake’s and Jonah’s brains and have moved on to the full tour without me. People come by to say hi, Cameron stops to welcome me home, but my gaze is glued to that door, not willing to miss another chance to lay my sights on her. When she finally does come out, her eyes flash to mine then narrow before she takes in another fighter.

She seems to be really good at what she does. Every fighter that leaves that room does so with a smile and a dazed look in their eyes. Not that I blame them.

I know what it feels like to have her hands on me. I’ve experienced firsthand what it’s like to be drunk on her attention. It’s the closest thing to heaven.





Thirty-one





Killian





I called a cab and had it pick me up at the backdoor of the training center to avoid being followed by photographers. The entire ten-minute drive to Ryder’s I spent rehearsing my speech. Once I’m finally at his door, I’ve forgotten everything I’ve rehearsed and settle for simply apologizing for being a shithead friend.

I fidget while waiting for him to open, wondering if I should at least hold my hands up to protect my face just in case. Nah, I’ll leave them down. He’s earned the potshot should he feel the need to give it.

He opens the door and doesn’t even meet my eyes. “Come on in.” He turns away and flops on the couch, not a hint of the hostility I was expecting, which makes me worry. Anger would mean he at least cares, but his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude might mean any number of I’m-sorrys won’t do jack crap

He looks about the same—worn jeans, black belt, Docs, and sporting a black and red Ataxia shirt. His hair is still bleached blond, a little shorter than it was a year ago, but still sticking out at all angles.

I cruise through his pad to the bar and prop my ass on a stool. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

He’s holding onto a pair of drumsticks, absently slapping out a beat on his thigh. “You mind getting to whatever it is you want to say?”

This is awkward as hell. It’s been so long since I’ve had to explain myself to anyone. And bringing up all this crap from the past makes me feel weak, another thing I haven’t felt much of in the last year.

“You were right; I lied to you.”

His eyes dart to mine and his drumstick thumping stops.

“I was busy in London, busier than I’ve ever been, but I avoided your calls.”

“Why?”

I blow out a breath and lick my lips, not liking the taste of humility on my tongue. “Because I was weak. I was afraid if I talked to you I’d hear about Ax, and I couldn’t handle hearing about how she’d moved on.”

“You should’ve just told me that.”

“I should’ve, but that would’ve been bringing her up, and honest to God, Ry, I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think about her name without wanting to jump on the next flight home.”

“I thought you two were good that night you took her home from the party, after you gave that Clifford f*ck a new nose. I thought things were solid between you two.”

Even a year later, knocking that * for disrespecting Ax is still gratifying to think about. “I did too. Axelle and I made some important decisions about our relationship that night. We were together, ya know?”

He nods. “I figured as much, but then you took the London gig.”

I blow out a breath and nod back. “I left, but only because she didn’t give me any choice.”

He frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense. She needed you.”

I whip my gaze to his, anger boiling in my gut. “I wanted to stay. I wanted to take care of her. I offered to be there for them. She didn’t want me.”