“Of course, I’m fucking mad. She did it behind my back.”
A short snort came from her. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“What?”
“I’ve said those exact words to you many, many times. Here’s the difference. She was helping you. When I said it, it wasn’t because you were helping us. You were hurting us. Was she in the right with the way she went about it? No. But you don’t get to cast stones.”
“This is different.”
“Why? Because you say it is? Because for the first time you’re on the receiving end of a decision someone made which you have no control over?” She leaned toward him. “Let me tell you something, buddy, it’s the exact same thing.”
“It’s not the same damn thing. Because of her butting in, I’m going to have to throw a fight. When did I ever make you compromise your ethics?”
“Are you serious?” she scoffed. “I compromised myself every time you left our house to gamble. I made excuses for you. Told myself you’d seen the error of your ways. You proved me wrong every damn time, until I could no longer fool myself.”
Stunned, Lance stared at his ex-wife, for the first time truly grasping what his decisions had put her through. “Jesus, I had no idea.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You never have, because this has always been about your pride and your inability to admit when you’re in over your head and accept help. It’s why you kept gambling, trying to win back what you lost, but instead, kept putting us deeper in the hole. You had to prove yourself.” She sighed. “Apparently, that part of you hasn’t changed.”
That was pretty much exactly what Kelsey had accused him of. He’d never really thought of it as letting his pride control him. He believed he was taking responsibility for his actions and paying back the money with no guilt on his conscience for throwing a fight. What he’d been doing was alienating the people who cared about him, who’d just wanted to help him. Lance reached across the table and covered her hands with his, squeezing. “I’m so sorry for everything I did, Piper.”
Turning her hand over, she returned the squeeze with a small smile. “You’ve apologized a lot over the years, but this is the first time I believe you really grasp what you’re apologizing for.”
“I do.”
“What about this Kelsey?”
God, he didn’t want to talk about Kelsey. He’d been a mess of fucking torn emotions since she’d looked him in the eyes and said she was going home and he’d watched her walk out of his life. At the time, he’d been so angry that he’d just let her go. It wasn’t until later that night, while he’d been lying in bed by himself, that he’d understood what her leaving had really meant.
She was going home…and she wasn’t coming back. She’d made her decision.
“She left.”
“Why?”
“The same reason you did.”
“You’re a stubborn, stubborn man, Lance Black. How about going after her?”
“It was going to end this way. She’d always intended to go back to Maine.” And as much as he wished they’d parted on different terms, he was proud of her for doing exactly what she’d set out to do. Heaving a heavy sigh, he leaned back. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here for a counseling session. I had a reason.”
“Skylar.”
“I miss my daughter.”
“She misses you. I’ve been torn between doing what’s right for her and keeping her away from you, and calling you up so you can visit her. I can say that I’m relieved to hear the McNealys will be dealt with. It makes this decision so much easier.”
Hope expanded his chest. “So are you saying I can see Skylar?”
“After you finish this fight, you can see your daughter again.”
Chapter Twelve
As the crowd cheered around him, Lance worked his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension knotting the muscles. The current bout was on its last leg, as one fighter had completely dominated the other for over seven minutes. Then it was his turn.
Bile churned his stomach. No matter what, he was going through with the loss, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He would always look back on this moment as the time he took the easy way out. In hindsight, allowing Kelsey to help him and paying her back would’ve been the better option. Almost everyone in this room was betting on him to win, and he was intentionally going to make them lose their money. How many people in this building had put down the last of their money on a sure win?
He couldn’t think about it or it’d drive him fucking mad.
After the match ended by knockout and the fighters cleared the cage, the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, on to the last fight of the night.”
Dread knotted his insides. He fucking hated every goddamn second of this, and just wanted to get it over with.
“In the blue corner,” the announcer said, and Lance started hopping from foot-to-foot, getting ready to run forward. “From Cheney, Kansas…Brittany Davis.”
Lance froze. What?