I shake my head. “No. I’m having lunch with my mother. I haven’t seen her in a while and she’s… talkative.”
Max lets out a strained laugh, but if he only knew. I’m sure my mother is making a last-ditch attempt to bully me into attending the upcoming ten-year anniversary of “the incident.” Why I agreed to meet her, I don’t know. I was at the airport in Vegas, fleeing Keller’s rejection—that look of pity he gave me. I was so distraught at the time, I said yes to my mom without thinking.
We finish eating in silence. Max helps bring the dishes into the kitchen. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, and it’s awkward. I walk to the door, hoping he’ll take the hint.
He does, following me, stopping much too close. I back up, pressed against the door, the locks digging into my spine.
“Britt…” Max raises a hand to touch my face.
I flinch, turning my head to the side to avoid his fingers. The panic I finally had under control surges in my chest, squeezing, tightening, closing in on all sides.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
His hand drops, curling up at his side. “Why him? Huh, Britt? He’s a fucking psycho. You deserve better.”
I’m both shocked at Max’s hostility, yet I expected it at the same time. “I’m not explaining myself to you.” I shimmy to the side and unlock the bolts, holding the door open. “Thank you for dinner.”
Max scowls. I see him struggling to hold his tongue. With a narrowing of his eyes and a quick nod of his head, Max slips out the door. I slam it shut, flipping the bolts.
My lungs constrict, the panic I held back bursting though the dam, flooding my body. I sink to the floor, lightheaded, numb, alone, and curled up in a ball.
Keller. I need Keller.
Keller
Done with practice, I sit on a bench to pull my gloves off with my teeth and begin unwrapping my hands.
“Good session, man.” Sawyer North, one of the other fighters, nods in my direction.
I throw on my hoodie and cover my head, letting it fall over my eyes. “Yeah.”
We grappled for about an hour and while he’s good, he’s no match for me. I held back several times just to make it challenging.
North leaves without another word. He knows. He saw it in the cage, the monster. Freaked him the fuck out, too, I could tell. At least I know Britt didn’t turn me completely soft. I pack up my stuff, slinging my bag on my shoulder.
Tomorrow, I’ll see Britt again. I have to stay detached. So we fucked, big deal. I’ve fucked lots of women. I don’t need her and I don’t feel anything. I can’t feel.
“Hey, Killer.”
As much as I want to avoid everyone here, the snide tone has me turning to see who the asshole is. Max. Creepy little fuck. He’s got balls of steel to speak to me, I’ll give him that.
I wait, staring, letting the icy silence speak for me.
He sees me, but I see him. We’re two different types of monsters, but both monsters all the same.
“So… I saw Britt yesterday,” he says with a smirk.
My entire body goes rigid. That sick piece of shit was with her?
In three long steps, I’m standing in his space, towering over him. Max’s confidence wavers and I watch him swallow nervously.
“What did you say?” I growl, inching closer.
To his credit, or maybe his sheer stupidity, the idiot stands his ground. “Yeah, I had dinner with her at her place. She looks good.”
Motherfucker. He knows I can’t hit him or I’ll be thrown out of the league. My hand itches to wrap around his skinny throat and squeeze.
“What’s your point, Max?”
I tilt my chin down, giving him a clear view into my eyes, my empty, heartless soul. Only, he doesn’t react and I sure as fuck don’t feel empty. I feel angry and defensive. The need to claim Britt as mine courses through my veins hot and electric, waking those buried emotions again.
I feel… alive.
“Fuck off!” I hiss, stepping around Max, “accidentally” bumping him with my shoulder on my way to see Roxie at the front desk.
She’s chatting with someone, but I could give a fuck. “Roxie!”
The tall woman startles, spinning to face me. She doesn’t flinch either, her gaze steady and somewhat annoyed.
Am I losing my touch?
“Yes?” Roxie puts her hands on her hips. Her bright blue hair is slicked back today, making her look like a comic book heroine.
“I need Britt’s address.”
She puckers her lips, having an internal debate over whether or not to give it to me.
“Please? I’m worried about her.” I push the hood off my head.
Roxie’s eyes bulge. Certainly no one here has ever heard me ask for anything, let alone say please. Dumbstruck, she reaches under the counter, producing a small address book.
“You better not make me regret this,” she says as she scrawls the address on a scrap of paper, pushing it across the counter.
“Thanks, Roxie.” I snatch it up and hurry outside.
The oppressive summer heat has me instantly dripping with sweat. I punch the address on the paper into my phone and realize Britt only lives a few blocks away. As I start to jog in the direction of her apartment, I try to figure out what exactly I’m going to say when I get there.
Britt