My chest cramps every time I think of her. And when I don’t think about her, she manages to come up. Every old story I tell, every memory of the UFL camp in Vegas, all of it is wrapped up in her.
Just the other day I overheard Caleb talking to Blake on the phone. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but we were both in the kitchen, so I may have listened a little more intently than I should’ve. From what I could tell, it was something about a Christmas card that was sent. It was when Caleb had said, “Yeah, that’s one hell of a good-looking baby, man,” that I nearly choked on my sandwich and decided to finish my meal in my room. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Axelle’s child is just as beautiful as she is. I worry about her, about the toll being a young mother with that fuck Clifford would take, but she has a family and people to support her.
I haven’t had the balls to talk to Ryder since the last time we spoke, and other than the occasional talk with Cameron, I stick to my training partners here in London. It might make me a *, but it’s better this way.
“I’d like to make a toast!” Laise struggles to push up from his seat, his three-piece charcoal gray suit, big-ass beard and longer hair making him look like David Gandy and William Wallace’s love child. “To the best fucking UFL team in the world!”
I hold up my beer and cheer, probably a little too loudly, but fuck it! It’s Christmas Eve and I’m feeling all kinds of merriment.
Laise sets his eyes on me. “To Killer, who after last week’s fight is still undefeated with now three knockouts under one minute!”
Caleb shouts and the rest of the team follows suit.
“And to big decisions.” He stares at me thoughtfully. “We’d love to have you stay, brother.”
Fleur’s hand rests gently on my thigh as if to confirm his words. I want to look at her, to reassure her in some way, but I can’t. I can’t stand the hope that I find in her hazel eyes every single time we’re together. The confusion that pinches her brows when she tries to read me.
“Salud!”
We all throw back a healthy gulp of whatever we’re drinking and get nods of approval or dirty looks from those dining around us.
Fleur rocks her shoulder into mine. “I can’t believe you might only be here for another month.”
She really is beautiful, especially tonight. Her hair is long and wavy around her face, framing those wide eyes that look almost green against her red dress. Her full lips are painted the same candy-apple shade, and her skin looks so soft.
And staring at her as she peers up at me with such longing, I can’t help but think of the one girl I wish so desperately was in her place.
It makes me sick to think by spending time with Fleur I’m leading her on in some way. Sure, we’ve shared the occasional kiss, and yes, not all of them have been innocent. I blame myself for that.
“The contract’s been offered, Killian.” Jay leans back in his seat, sipping a scotch neat. “When do you think you’ll decide?”
I shrug and look around the table, feeling suddenly suffocated by my tie. “I think I’ll go home first, talk to Cameron and my US team.”
“Blimey, if they’ve got any sense, they’ll convince you to stay.” Liam throws back almost a half a glass of red wine.
“Liam, don’t be daft. You’d have to be mental to walk away from training partners like that.” Fleur looks around the table. “You know he gets to train with MMA gods, right?”
Caleb and I laugh. It’s true that Jonah, Blake, and Rex have secured their spots as the top MMA all-stars, but they’re far from gods.
Fuck. I can’t believe I just thought that.
I’ve worshipped every step they’ve taken my entire life up until, well, up until I started fighting. What does that mean?
“Why don’t you guys come with us?”
My head jerks to Caleb as he sits back in his fancy-ass chair, wearing his fancy-ass suit and grinning wide.
The entire table is silent.
“Are you serious?” I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the idea of having all my London family mixing with my US family, but I can’t pinpoint the reasons why.
“Fuck, yeah, I’m serious.” He shrugs. “Let’s bring them home for a week. Let them experience Vegas and all it has to offer.”
Ollie looks at his sister. “We’ll never come back.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think we will.”
“Paris first,” Ollie says. “We’ve been so busy training this guy”—he nods to me—“we haven’t been home in a year.”
Laise holds up his glass. “I love Paris!”
“So it’s settled.” Caleb lifts his glass. “Paris, and then we’re bringing our ragtag team home.”
Another raucous explosion of cheers and expletives is followed by Henry’s belted, “Happy Fucking Christmas!”
Shortly afterward we’re asked to leave.
~~~