22
Jules pulled her car into her dad’s driveway. The glare of the bright morning sun spilled through her windshield, promising another gorgeous day. For the first time since moving to Las Vegas, she missed the rain. Was it too much to ask for a little dreary weather to match her mood?
Today was the last day of the tournament, and he’d invited her over for breakfast, probably to debrief before the big championship fight—she had no illusions that he was going to have a change of heart about Nick. She wasn’t looking forward to breakfast, whatever his reason for inviting her. The only time he’d spoken to her after their discussion was to bark orders pertaining to the tournament. She’d worn leggings and a long T-shirt because she’d been feeling low key ever since that night with— Nope. The ache in the back of her throat derailed that train of thought. If she replayed that horrible argument she’d cry again, and she’d managed not to today. Granted, it wasn’t even nine in the morning, so that was hardly a victory.
It hadn’t occurred to her until she’d turned onto her dad’s street that this might be an official WFC breakfast or something, and her clothing might not be appropriate. But her dad’s Escalade was the only car parked in front of his garage, so she exhaled in relief as she pulled up next to it. Grabbing her purse from the passenger seat, she made her way up the cobblestone walkway between two rows of dwarf palms to knock on the door. She hadn’t been here since that disastrous night a couple of months ago when she’d come over for dinner.
That night had ultimately led to her first honest conversation with Nick. She shook her head to clear the memory away. It hurt too much to think of him and how understanding he’d been about her leaving him in Chicago. And while she understood his anger now, their last argument had made her feel like he’d pulled the rug out from under her.
She’d fucked up. She knew that, but it seemed like the first real issue they’d faced had him running for the door, leaving her feeling betrayed and angry at both him and herself.
Let me be brave for both of us . . . That was what he’d told her that night in his apartment, when they’d gotten back together. She’d known better than to believe him. But giving in to him had felt too good, like coming home after a lifetime on the run. So she’d done it and really had no one to blame but herself that it had come to this. He’d thought he could handle her baggage, but he couldn’t. She was too messed up for someone like him.
And here came the tears. She blinked furiously to fight them back as her dad’s voice called out that the door was open.
Stepping into the foyer, she set her purse on the marble-topped table. She debated leaving her sunglasses on to hide her reddened eyes, but figured that’d be rude, so she placed them on top of her purse.
“Back here, Julian.” Her dad called from the direction of the kitchen. He stood at the counter with several take-out containers of food open in front of him, doling out stacks of waffles onto two plates.
“Good morning, Dad.” She’d tried to keep a professional tone with him, afraid that if she didn’t, she’d reveal her anger at how he’d contributed to the breakup. And that’s what it was. After days of zero contact from Nick, she couldn’t help but think that things were over. At the tournament it’d been easier to keep things professional with her dad, but now, in his home, she was struggling.
He grinned at her, none of his earlier anger visible in his expression. Interesting. Then he went back to studying a container of bacon. “How many pieces you want?”
Her stomach churned at the thought of food. She hadn’t eaten much except ice cream straight from the carton since the night her world had imploded. “You didn’t have to go out to get breakfast. I could’ve stopped and picked something up on my way over.”
“It’s not a big deal. There’s this great little diner around the corner. They know me there.”
Considering grilled steaks and mac and cheese were the extent of his culinary skills, she didn’t doubt it. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself, Dad. Diner food can kill you.”
He looked slightly offended as he patted his stomach. “Still flat as a pancake. I work out and get meals delivered. The diner is my Sunday morning indulgence.”
Taking the plate he offered, she said, “Well, that’s good.” And never one to pass up bacon, she grabbed a piece from the container and took a bite. It tasted bland to her, but she chewed and swallowed anyway.
“You okay?” He paused, studying her face as if he could tell something was wrong. She figured he’d noticed the redness in her eyes.
She squared her shoulders and forced herself to confront the issue head-on. “No, I’m not okay. I’m still pretty upset about our argument.”
He let out a breath and nodded as if he’d been expecting that. “Yeah . . . I know.”
Feeling unsure of herself, she nodded awkwardly and took her plate to the table. He finished preparing his plate and came over to join her.
“That’s why I asked you over. I don’t want this distance between us. I wanted you to come work for me so that we could be closer.” His hands dropped to the table beside his plate. “But it seems like we’re falling into the same old routine.”
She nodded, impressed with his level of self-awareness. “You’re right. It does.”
His mouth formed a thin line as he sawed into his waffle with the side of his fork, neither of them seeming to know what to say next. The silence stretched as he chewed and then sawed off another bite. “Why didn’t you come and talk to me about you and . . .” He paused as if he couldn’t say Nick’s name. “Giannakis?”
“You mean because you’re always so understanding and supportive?” she asked sarcastically, and gave him a humorless smile. His blue eyes widened and he actually looked wounded. She felt horrible, kicking him when he was clearly trying. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was uncalled for.”
Looking down at his plate, he swallowed. “No, you’re right.”
Her heart clenched at his dejection, so she reached over and placed her hand on his. “Dad, I . . .” Her voice trailed off because she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wrong, but sometimes being right didn’t feel so good. “What would you have said if I had come to you?”
His hand didn’t move beneath hers. “I’d have been pissed. Probably fired him on the spot.” Then he gave a self-deprecating sigh. “Deb’s right. I react before I think. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. He’s doing well in the tournament, making us look good.”
He squeezed her hand before picking up the remote from the center of the table. When he pressed play, the television in the attached den came to life. She immediately recognized the MGM Grand Garden Arena lettering on the pads on the top of the cage, and the crowd screamed in the background.
“I have to admit, he was impressive last night,” her dad said. The camera zoomed in to show Nick and his opponent, Fernando Silva, circling each other at the start of last night’s semifinal bout. Nick had won in the first round with an arm bar submission. Everyone had thought Silva would be a tougher challenge for Nick due to his wrestling skills, but Nick had dispatched him even faster than he had Kovac. He’d been fighting in the tournament like he had something to prove, because he did. His entire career hinged on his performance here, and Jules hated that the contract clause and their argument were hanging over his head.
“What’s really going on here? You haven’t liked Nick from the time you signed him. What gives? You scared he’s going to outshine you?” When his shoulders stiffened, she knew she’d hit a nerve. She set her fork down and narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Dropping his fork, he looked up at her, his eyes blazing with emotion, his hands clenched into fists. “The WFC is my company. I bought it, and I turned it around from some amateur-hour fight club into what it is today. I handpicked every fighter we brought on. I fought the commission to get our licensing reestablished. I groveled for investors and paid every one of the assholes off. I begged the networks for airtime.” He took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “The WFC is mine, and I won’t have some guy walking in here who doesn’t take it seriously.”
“Dad.” She reached out and put a hand over his fist. “You called him. Remember?”
He shook his head like it was a memory he’d rather forget. “Yeah, I called him, and now he thinks I owe him something.”
She thought back over her time with Nick and couldn’t remember ever once getting that impression, but as unlikely as it was, maybe he’d said something to her dad. “Did Nick say that to you?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t have to. I know people, Julian. No one does something for nothing.”
“He didn’t do it for nothing, though. The exposure has helped his career.” She knew that even before the first fight, his social media followers had almost doubled, and he was interviewing agents because he’d had a couple of inquiries about major endorsements. He was experiencing far more interest than he’d had with Imperial. “What’s this really about? Why are you feeling threatened?”
Exhaling, he looked away. He shook his head again, making her think he was going to deny it, but then his shoulders relaxed and he said, “I know I was a shitty father. Shitty husband too. But I was a good fighter until I got hurt. This is all I have left now, Julian. I figured if I could make this work, then maybe I haven’t failed completely in life. Maybe it’d all be worth something.”
“You haven’t failed. The tournament is a success. We’re set up to have our best year yet. Does it matter that you have Nick and maybe a few other people to thank? People need people, Dad. So you didn’t do it all by yourself; is that so bad?”
His gaze swung back to her, and one corner of his mouth curled upward. “How’d you get so smart? You sure as hell didn’t get it from me.”
She shrugged, realizing he was trying to lighten the mood, but now that they’d been talking about Nick, he was firmly in her thoughts. This all could’ve been avoided if her dad wasn’t so stubborn, or if she’d confronted him head-on. The Darcy genes had struck again. “Experience, I guess. I really hope you reconsider ending his contract. I think he’s proven that he belongs here.” Not that it would save her relationship with Nick.
Much to her surprise, her dad nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. You’re right.” He gestured toward the television, a different fight now on the screen. “He’s shown he deserves to be here. I’m not getting rid of that clause, but we can spin it somehow. You guys met before you started working here, or something. Maybe we’ll ask Ashlynn for advice. She’s good with PR.”
Jules sighed in relief. At least Nick’s hard work wouldn’t be for nothing.
He cleared his throat, as if unsure about what he was about to say. “So . . . Giannakis . . . you said he was special. Did you mean that?”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to get into what happened with her and Nick. A lump was already starting to swell in her throat. “He is special.”
“This is serious then?” He looked as if he was almost afraid to hear the answer.
She swallowed thickly. “Well, actually, we’re not together anymore.”
“He broke up with you?” It was more an accusation than a question, and his hands clenched into fists again.
“Sort of. We had a big argument, and I don’t really know where things stand. It hurts, but I . . . I get it. Expected it, even. I’m not good for him.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then straightened her fork before her hands fluttered uselessly to her lap.
“What the hell does that mean? You’re beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes at his tone and slightly raised voice. “Simmer down, Dad. I mean that he’s normal. He has a very nice family in Chicago. They’re not like us. I don’t blame him for walking away.”
“Julian Marlena Darcy.” Her whole body cringed at hearing her full name. Her mom had compensated for the boy’s name her father had insisted on giving her with the middle name “Marlena”—her mother’s favorite soap opera character. “You telling me that fucking guy told you that you weren’t good enough for him?” He looked as though he’d storm over to Nick’s apartment and beat the living daylights out of him.
“No, of course not. Nick would never say that.” She toyed with the piece of bacon she still hadn’t finished. “I didn’t tell him about you finding out about us right away. I think he was also upset about me insisting on keeping us a secret. Plus, in Chicago . . .” She realized she hadn’t already confessed to having visited his family. “When Nick’s dad had a heart attack I went with him to Chicago. I overheard some hurtful things his brother said.” She shook her head, not wanting to get into the whole mess. “I didn’t tell him what I overheard. I didn’t tell him about you finding out. Those things together . . . they were too much. I hurt him when I left him in Chicago last year, and he still doesn’t trust me.”
He gave a huff that sounded like a self-deprecating laugh. “Guess I fucked things up for you.” Then he unexpectedly grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Look, Julian. I know your mom and I had our differences, and I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been. But even with fighting and the WFC, you’re the best thing I ever did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that sooner. I’m sorry I’m a grumpy bastard who doesn’t always see the good around him. But I need you to know that I’m proud of you. Prouder than you can ever know. You deserve the best, and if Giannakis doesn’t realize that, then it’s his loss.”
Unexpectedly, the tears she’d been holding back all morning spilled over. It was like a dam had burst, and all the pain she’d been struggling to hide came pouring out of her. She let out a choked sob and dropped her head into her hands, unable to hold it all back any longer. “Aw hell.” Her dad moved from his chair and pulled her into his arms. His hand stroked down her back in a gentle caress as her shoulders shook. “I love you, and I’m going to try to let you know that more often.”
She couldn’t remember the last time he’d held her, but that long-forgotten feeling of unconditional acceptance came back to her. It was comforting, while at the same time drawing out all her fears and her pain. She turned her face into his chest and wept for all that she’d lost.
“You know,” he began. “My dad walked out on us when I was little. I barely knew him. I didn’t want you to grow up in a household like that. I wanted you to have both me and your mom.” His fingers tightened in her hair and his voice lowered. “But I guess I fucked things up more by trying to force something that wasn’t meant to work out. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not all your fault, Dad. Mom had her own issues.”
He nodded and tightened his hold. “I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.” He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. “I want you to know that what happened with me and your mom happened because we didn’t really try to make it work. We just kept going, as if that was all it took. We didn’t work on it. We didn’t talk. It doesn’t have to be that way for you.”
As if she’d been waiting her whole life to hear those exact words, she realized that he was right. Maybe she did deserve normal with Nick. Maybe because of her fear, and the way she’d chained herself to her past, she’d let herself be convinced otherwise. Maybe Nick was afraid too. But it didn’t have to be that way. She could show him that she believed in them.
This time, she’d be the one to fight for them.