Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

“Yeah, I uh… what do you think about Blake?” I try to keep my voice casual.

“I like him. He’s super cool, funny, cooks really good food.” She shrugs. “He’s good looking. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“What would you say if I told you that I agree?”

“I’d say that’s good, because if you didn’t I’d think something was seriously wrong with you.” She giggles.

“Okay, and what would you say if I told you I like him? A lot. And he likes me too?”

She cocks her eyebrow at me and smiles. “I’d say, no shit, Sherlock. Welcome to the party.”

“What?”

“Oh please, Mom. It’s so obvious. You guys are both all goo-goo eyed when you’re together.”

“We are not.”

“You so are.”

I laugh and think this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a long time. “We’re kind of…”

“Dating?” She smiles big, and her eyes sparkle.

“Yeah, er… if you’re okay with that.”

“You’re dating Blake “The Snake” Daniels, and you want to know if I’m okay with it?” Her high-pitched squeal fills the truck’s cab.

“Is that a yes?” I laugh.

“Hell yeah, it’s a yes! Killian is going to freak out when I tell him.”

I shake my head and wrestle against a grin.

Who knew a little honesty and communication could change our future outlook? It doesn’t mean that we’re fixed. But healing is ahead, and we’ve just taken one step closer to it.

Blake

“Take him down.”

“Get his leg, slam him.”

“There it is. Down, down, down.”

The shouted instruction from my camp pushes me on. Rex attempts to lock my legs. I’ve got half-guard and side control. He wants me off. Good luck.

Constricting my legs, I elbow his headgear. “Tap, bitch.”

The fucker laughs. “In your dreams.” He tries to land a punch to my head.

I tighten my hold. “If this was a dream, you’d be a lot prettier and have bigger tits.”

He pushes off the mat, forcing my arm to let go. I rear up, slam him back, and get full-guard. I can’t believe how strong I feel. My muscles are pulled taut, with energy to burn. The fight with “The Fade” is setting up to be the best of my life. I’ve never been so ready. As prepared mentally as I am physically. And Layla there cheering me on is going to push me past the point of excellence.

“All right, boys. Back to your feet. Let’s work on take downs,” Owen calls out from across the octagon.

We jump up and fist bump before we take our fighting stance. The shouts from Jonah and Caleb beyond the chain link resume. I’m focused on Rex, waiting for him to lunge or attempt to sweep my legs.

Sparring is my favorite part of training. It’s my chance to get in the octagon and put all the pieces together. To use the different fighting skills as an integrated weapon. And with my fight around the corner, spars like this are a dress rehearsal.

Seeing my opening, I lunge. My shoulder hits his thigh, and he buckles. Dropping to my knees, I flip him to his back and get the full-mount.

“Way to go, Blake.” The female voice, shouting encouragement, robs my attention. I look up to see Layla standing with the guys, her fingers curled around the fence, a wide smile on her face. Fuck, I’ve missed—my head slams to the side. The powerful punch to my headgear makes my brain sing. Damn.

“Who’s dreaming now, lover boy?” Rex throws me to my back, grinning.

“Ha ha, assface. Now get the fuck off me.” I shove him back, and he rolls to his feet. I pull my headgear off and move toward my now worried-looking girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

Owen throws his hands in the air. “Looks like Blake’s callin’ a time out. Five minutes and we’re back at it.”

I ignore him. I haven’t seen my Mouse since Sunday morning when she left after we had breakfast and a seriously hot naked clean-up session in my kitchen. No way I’m rushing through this. I step up to her from the opposite side of the dividing fence. She grips at it impatiently.

“Mouse.” I hook my fingers over hers.

“Hi.” Her whispered greeting comes with a smile.

“How was the appointment at…” My skin prickles with the weight of my training team’s stares. They’re standing around with their eyes plastered to our hands, eyes huge, smiles too fucking knowing. “You guys mind?”

“Nah, we’re good.” Rex rolls his gloved hand. “Continue.”

I swing my gaze back to find a red-faced Layla. She tucks her chin and giggles.

“They’re worse than women,” I say, earning me a glare from Jonah. “I’ll take a break. I want to hear about your morning.”

Pushing back from the fence, I move to exit the octagon. “I’ll be back in fifteen.” My eyes rake over her body. She’s wearing skin-tight leggings and a draped shirt that hangs off one tan shoulder. “Make that forty-five.”

The guys grumble something that I’m sure is filled with all kinds of *-whipped implications. And I don’t give a fuck.

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