Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(96)
“What time is the press conference?” Liam shoves a bite of food in his mouth.
I throw my napkin on the table and lean back. “Tomorrow at four thirty.”
“Four thirty?” He looks disappointed. “But it’s Saint Valentine’s Day, and rumor has it American girls are horny and willing on this day.” He shoves out his lower lip. “I was hoping to be drunk and the meat in a girl sandwich by then.” He tilts his head. “Any chance they can reschedule it?”
Valentine’s Day. Fuck. “No, dumb ass.”
“It’s the big announcement, yeah?” Disappointment etches Fleur’s voice. “Any chance you want to let us in on what you’ll be announcing?”
“They swore me to secrecy.” I hook my hands behind my neck and lean back, staring between my loud-mouthed friends. “Didn’t want it to leak to the press before the conference.”
“Oh come on, we’re mates.” Liam grins. “I won’t say a word.”
“So when you’re covered in naked strippers and drunk on scotch, you won’t slip and give away the secret?”
“What exactly do you think I’m gonna say? ‘Take my boxers off and oh, by the way, Quick Kill’s going back to London to fight with me because I’m the best middleweight on this side of the equator?’” He purses his lips. “I see your point. That could definitely help me pull a bird, but I guess I’m stuck relying on my accent. Did you know I say one word and American girls drop their knickers and fall on their backs?”
Fleur laughs. “That’s what happens when you follow them to the toilet and watch them pass out.”
“You’re such a f*cking comedian.”
“I’m just saying how do you know it’s your accent?”
“Well, it’s not his face,” I mumble.
“Fuck off.” He checks his phone. “Speaking of… I gotta run. I’m meeting the boys at some place called Zeus’s.” He slams back the rest of his drink.
“You’re going to a strip club? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“So.” Liam stares at me and then at Fleur. “You want to come with?”
She gazes up at me, reads something on my face, and then nods. “Gah…fine.”
Liam lifts his chin toward me. “You got this?”
“I got it.” Cameron gave me a company credit card for entertaining my London brethren.
Fleur squeezes my shoulder as she leaves. “Hang in there, okay?”
“Will do, boss.”
She smiles sadly, and as soon as they’re far enough away, I check my phone.
Still nothing.
Dammit, Axelle! I didn’t want to do this, but she’s given me no choice.
I search my contacts and hit “send.”
“UFL, this is Vanessa.”
“Hey, Vanessa, it’s Killian. Listen. I need to ask you for a favor…”
*
Axelle
I went a year without speaking to Killian, and those three-hundred sixty-five days were nothing compared to the two days I’ve gone ignoring him. I wish I could say I was doing it because I’m immature and selfish. That would be the easiest way to explain away how I’m feeling.
Unfortunately, it’s much more complicated than that. My heart and mind are all mucked up together, and I can’t make sense of any of it.
On the one hand, I want to spend every single second with Killian before he goes back to London. I’d ignore sleep if it meant I could stay up with him all night, laughing at his stupid jokes and watching the way his face lights up when he talks about his fighting.
But then there’s the other hand: The one that rises up without fail to protect me from getting hurt. The one that pushes people away before they can leave. The hand that tells me I’ve lived without him before and I can do it again. This is the same hand that holds me back from returning his texts and his calls.
How do I explain that I can’t get close to him only to lose him again?
“…Tatyana sneaks in his bed at night.” Mason, the fighter currently on my table, face up, grimaces while I work a tight muscle in his arm. “We don’t mind, but I think Felix was excited about finally having his own space.”
Every time he gets a chance to talk about his two adopted kids, he does. His face even lights up when he tells stories about how they misbehave, which is beautiful to witness.
I move up his bicep to his shoulder. “She’s probably so used to her brother being there it’ll take some time for her to feel safe without him. Eventually, I’m sure she’ll grow out of it.”
“Part of me hopes she doesn’t.” He hisses as I rub deep into a knot. “I like that they’re so close.”
He falls silent as I work the kinks from his muscles, having to occasionally remind him to breathe. When I sense the he’s nice and loose, I check the time. “That muscle in your shoulder took longer than I thought.” I move to the sink and wipe my hands on a clean towel.
“Mmm…feels one hundred percent better. Thank you.”
I get so much satisfaction from knowing I’m able to help these guys out. They put their bodies through all kinds of torture during training, and it’s nice to feel needed.