Twenty-nine
One month later…
Killian
“It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.”
I dart my eyes to Caleb, who’s blinking up at the Eiffel Tower.
“It’s called the Eiffel Tower, cowboy.” Laise grins through his beard and ’stache. “What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen it on TV and in pictures. I guess I wasn’t expecting the base of it to be so…wide.”
“That’s what she said,” I mumble.
Caleb’s head whips toward me. “Holy shit. You just delivered a Daniels’ line like it was nothing.”
I shrug, grinning at the iron masterpiece before me. “I did, didn’t I?”
He slaps me on the shoulder. “The old man would be proud.”
My chest warms at the thought. Truth be told, regardless of how I left things with Blake, I miss the guy. It’ll be good to go home and see them, talk with Cam, and announce my plan to come back and fight in London for another five years.
It makes sense. My career is at its peak. I have a great team. Leaving would be like backsliding.
“Killian, come here!” Fleur waves me over to where she’s standing with a guy I’ve never seen before.
It took weeks for things to normalize between us after our night together. I felt so horrible about what I’d done I confessed my history with Axelle to Fleur as if I was lying on a psychiatrist’s couch. Just what a woman wants to do, listen to a guy go on and on about another woman.
I’m such an asshole.
No matter how many times I’ve apologized, she insists it’s not necessary. She swears she seduced me and knew exactly what she was getting into. I suppose that’s true, but I never should’ve let it happen. The good news is we both value our friendship too much to allow my moment of instability to screw it up.
“What’s up?” I look between her and the guy who, now that I’m closer, is more like a kid.
“This is Rene; he’s a huge fan.”
I reach out and shake his hand, which is a little clammy, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s shaking. “Nice to meet you, Rene.”
The kid rambles off a string of French, and although I have no idea what he’s saying, I can sense his enthusiasm.
“He says he has never missed a single one of your fights, and that your fight against Lyon was the most impressive under-one-minute fight in UFL history.” She cups her mouth to whisper. “He’s kind of obsessed.”
Flashbacks of when I was this kid’s age, looking up to Jonah at the airport and spouting off his fight stats, flicker in my mind. If I’d only known then the future that awaited, my fate hanging in the balance and depending on that one seemingly random connection… I set eyes on the kid, his grin contagious. “Thank you. I appreciate that. You ever consider becoming a fighter?”
Again he and Fleur go back and forth, and she turns to me. “He said, ‘Yes, but it’s difficult because his parents think he should study to be an engineer, saying it’s a safer route.’”
“I know the feeling. Someone once told me I was too smart for sports.”
She translates.
I pat the kid on the shoulder, and his eyes widen and move to where I touched him. “Don’t give up on your dreams, okay?”
He nods as the translation is completed and then holds up a black Sharpie marker, shaking it and pointing to his shirt.
“He wants you to sign his shirt.”
“Sure.” I grab the pen, and he turns around and offers me his back.
I don’t have to think of the right thing to write. I already know. It took one sentence to inspire me. I think the same can be done for this kid.
Rene,
No one dictates your future but you.
—Quick Kill McCreery
I’m finally able to pass along the one piece of advice given to me by The Assassin to someone who needs to hear it.
Rene turns back around and holds up his phone, indicating he wants a photo. Our little interaction has attracted some attention, and people gather around, snapping photos. Rene and I get a quick selfie, and he hugs me before running off to a group of waiting teens.
This is why I should stay—for kids like Rene. I had The Assassin, and there were days in high school that I’m not proud of where I contemplated putting an end to the bullying and the suffering. It was the promise of seeing another UFL fight that helped me hang on most days. Then it was Axelle, but she’s gone.
The crowd closes in, snapping photos and asking questions in French. I hook my arm over Fleur. “Think we better go before the paparazzi show up.”
She wraps her arm around my waist, and we motion to the other guys who’ve congregated close by that we’re headed to our car.
“Anyone up for an early dinner?” Liam waves to our drivers, who’ve been patiently waiting for us to finish up at the tower. “Our flight to the states leaves at the butt crack of dawn.”
“Sounds good to me.” I usher Fleur into the backseat, turning one last time to get a glimpse of the tower, but the incessant snapping of cameras has me climbing into the car sooner than I’d like.
In twenty-four hours, I’ll be flying high over American soil.
And I’m scared to death what going home will bring.
~*~
Axelle
I love my job.
Granted, it’s the kind that requires a uniform, but I don’t mind that as much as I thought I would. I work for a great company, one that prides itself on loyalty, hard work, and commitment. It’s more like a family, really.
Actually, for me, that’s exactly what it is. Family.
And for the first time in my life, I’m proud of who I am and what I do. I’ve worked hard to get here, and I’ve earned my position. The interview process alone would’ve inflamed all my old insecurities. God knows my boss isn’t the most sensitive man in the world. But I’m not that insecure girl anymore. I faced adversity, fell in its wake, and dragged myself to my feet to move forward.
I filter through my work shirts embroidered with the company logo and settle for the blue one. I like the way it brings out my eyes.
Sliding that over my head with a pair of workout leggings and one of my three pairs of color-coordinated Nikes, I grab my bag and head to the kitchen to grab a bite before I go.
“Goooood morning, family!”
“Oh!” My mom slams her cell phone into her lap with a forced smile. “Morning!”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you hiding?”
“What? Nothing.” More of that fake smile.
I pin Blake with a glare. “What’s going on?”
He sucks on his teeth, seeming to struggle with how to answer my question. “Just, uh…” He slams his lips shut.
I peek over at Jack, who has his nose buried in a bowl of cereal, his mop of golden hair ruffled from sleep. I swear when you give that kid food he forgets the world around him even exists.
“Jackie Bear, help a sister out.”
He blinks up at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Huh?”
“Ugh, you’re no help.” I motion toward him and his trough. “Continue.”
He goes back to his cereal, and I turn back to Mom and Blake.
I nod to her lap. “Something interesting on your phone there, Mom?”
“Oh, this?” She holds it up and then makes a psht sound with her lips. “I was just noticing the…weather?”
“Is that a question?” I cock a hip, raise my eyebrows, and she squirms in response. Yep, something is definitely up.
Blake chokes and clears his throat.
“Mom, I know you’re hiding something, and if you don’t tell me what it is, I’ll worry all day. Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can take it.”
Blake mumbles, “She’ll find out on her own eventually.”
“I’ll find out what?”
She pinches her eyes closed and shoves the phone at me. “Here.”
I approach cautiously, snag the device, and hit the screen.
My breath catches in my throat.
It’s a photo from an online news article. Killian and Fleur are walking together, his arm slung over her shoulders. He’s leaning in deep to whisper in her ear, and whatever he’s saying makes her smile.
But that’s not the worst part. After all, seeing them together isn’t new to me.
The worst part is the view behind them.
They’re in Paris.
Walking away from The Eiffel Tower.
And the caption on the story reads, “UFL Superstar Killian McCreery Bringing his Love Back to the States.”
There’s an article that follows, which details his week-long stay in Paris. The journalist alludes to the fact that he was there to meet her parents and is now bringing her to Vegas to meet his and possibly get hitched at one of the quickie chapels here in town.
I finish the article, take a deep fortifying breath, and hand the phone back.
“You okay?” Blake’s eyes are settled on mine with concern.
“It hurts a little, but yeah, I’m okay.” I grab a handful of blueberries from a bowl on the table. “He’s not the Killian I knew anymore, and this new Killian seems happy.” I shrug. “That’s all I ever wanted for him.”
My mom stands and wraps me in a hug. “Is that the truth or is that for our benefit?”
“It’s the truth. I’ll always love Kill, but I don’t know him anymore. I mean the Kill I knew wouldn’t wear Gucci loafers and Armani suits. I’m not saying he doesn’t look good, but…” He does; he really, really does look good. “That kind of guy would never be interested in someone like me anyway.”
“That’s a load of bullshi—uh…” Blake’s eyes dart to Jack, who is still blissfully buried in his breakfast. “That’s not true. And from what I hear, the media is blowing this relationship out of proportion. Caleb says they’re just friends.”
“Who kiss?”
Blake shrugs.
“After every single fight?”
He seems less confident, but still shrugs, this time only one shoulder. “It’s possible.”
“So the article said he’s coming home. When?”
Mom and Blake share a meaningful glance, and then she turns to me with sympathy written all over her face. “They got in last night.”
My eyes widen and my pulse speeds. “They’re here? Now?”
“Yeah, and you should be prepared because—”
I hold up my hand. “Mom, please, don’t worry about me. I promise whatever happened a year ago is in the past. We’ve both moved on. I’m really happy about where I am in life, and I think it’s safe to say he is too.”
Blake sighs and doesn’t look at all convinced. “If you say so, kiddo.”
“Right. Well, I better get to work.” I grin and race out the door and straight to work, fighting my nerves the entire way.