Thirty
Killian
Feels good to be home.
I’d forgotten how much I miss the heat until I felt the dry sixty-degree weather when we walked out of the airport at an ungodly hour. We managed to get to our hotel with only a few camera flashes, and after twelve full hours of sleep and room service, I’m feeling mostly human again.
“I swear to God if you embarrass me I will kick your arse.” Ollie’s been warning his sister about her fangirling since we touched ground, and he’s driving the point home now that we’re walking through the parking lot to the UFL Training Center’s doors.
“I am sweating like a pig, but I can’t tell if it’s nerves or because it’s fucking hot here.” Fleur holds tight to my arm as if I’m her life preserver in rough seas.
“Seventy-two is nothing. The summers are brutal.” I ruffle her hair. “Stop being such a girl.”
Caleb ended up crashing with Rex and Gia, and Laise, Henry, Jay, and Liam all hit the bars and gambling once they got to their hotel last night, so none of them were answering their phones when we tried to get them to come along.
Opening the doors, I’m hit with the blast of air conditioning, the sound of metal music pumping through the speakers, and the familiar scent of sweat and rubber mats. Yep, smells like home.
“Hey, Vanessa.” I greet the receptionist and grin as she takes me in appreciatively.
“Welcome home.” She hits a button on the phone. “Layla, can you let him know the kid is home?” She rolls her eyes at whatever Layla says then hangs up. Apparently, the year I was away didn’t mend fences between the two women. “Congratulations on your fights. Seems like just yesterday you were here washing towels and cleaning toilets.”
Fleur and Olivier chuckle at my side.
“Thanks, Vanessa. I appreciate you bringing that up.”
She smiles and jerks her head toward the main training room. “Head on back. They’re expecting you.”
I thank her and move with Fleur still welded to my arm.
She leans in close. “Who’s expecting us? Oh my God, is it The Assassin?” Fleur’s grip on me tightens to the point that my hand starts to go numb. “Because I will die if—Holy Mary, Mother of…”
We step into the main training center, which is at least triple the size of the one in London. Her and Ollie’s gazes swing from one end of the room to the other, jaws hanging open.
“There’s The Fade.” Ollie points discreetly to the heavy bags where Wade is working with a fighter I’ve never seen before.
It seems like there are a lot of faces I haven’t seen before. “There’s Rex.”
We head over to the mats where Rex is working with a flyweight. We stand back until he spots us and grins. “There he is.” He says something to the guy he’s working with then crosses to us with a smile on his face. “Quick Kill McCreery.” He shakes my hand and pulls me in for a back-slapping hug. “Welcome home, brother.” He swings his gaze to Fleur and Ollie, greeting them with handshakes. “Happy you guys could make it.”
“This place is amazing.” Ollie studies the poster-sized photos on the walls, each depicting a different fighter, both past and present.
Fleur remains tight-lipped, her anxieties seeming to get the best of her.
“Is Caleb here?”
“Yeah, I think he’s in Cam’s office, planning for your future, world domination, shit like that.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Make yourself at home; give your friends the tour.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Fleur has let up her grip on my arm a little, but as soon as we start making our way to the stairs that lead to Cam’s office, she tenses up again.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…”
“What?” I follow the line of her sight and see why she’s freaking out. My lips break into a smile so big my jaw aches.
“Fuck, here she goes; she’s going to go off on one,” Ollie mutters and drops his eyes to the floor.
The second Jonah spots me his face breaks into a grin that pops both dimples and shows all his teeth. He shakes his head and moves toward us.
“He’s coming! He’s walking over here. Oh my God!” Fleur presses her body so tightly to mine I’m surprised she doesn’t wrap herself around my waist.
“Fuckin’ A.” Jonah opens his arms wide and swallows both me and Fleur, since she’s become a permanent fixture on me, in a hug. “Killer, man…so fucking proud of you, brother.”
I wish I could say I took his compliment like a man, but tears burn behind my eyes, and it’s all I can do to say thanks without bursting into tears like a pussy.
He pulls back and sizes me up. “I knew you had what it took.”
I shrug one shoulder, feeling suddenly shy and vulnerable, something I haven’t felt since I stepped out of the octagon after my first fight. “You gave me the chance. I owe you for that.”
“Nah, you worked your ass off. You earned your chance.” His eyes track to Fleur, who’s staring up at him in wonder and adoration. “You wanna introduce me to your friends?”
I blink and shake myself from the daze of his approval. “Yes, Jonah, this is Fleur and her brother—”
“Assassin, I’m a huge fan. I’ve been obsessed with you since your first fight, and your career has inspired me”—she catches a shaky breath—“so much.”
Jonah holds out his hand to shake hers. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
She stares at his hand with wide eyes, and then finally all the blood rushes back to my arm after she releases me. I expect her to shake Jonah’s hand, but Ollie groans when she engulfs his entire forearm in her hands and stares at it.
“Fuckin hell, Fleur.” Ollie studies the ceiling as if he’s looking for patience that’s been stored there.
“Your arm is so much bigger in real life,” she whispers. “And your tattoos…”
I laugh, and when Ollie glares at me, I cover my mouth.
“Um…thank you?” Jonah looks at me and shrugs.
“She’s a huge fan.” I cough on a laugh.
He smiles down at her uncomfortably then pries her hands off him. “How about an autographed UFL shirt.”
She gasps and looks up at him. “Yes, please, who me? Of course I want that.”
He jerks his head toward the locker room. “Give me a minute. I’ll go grab one.”
“Thank you.” She reaches for him again, to shake his hand maybe, but he jerks back in time to avoid it and heads to the locker room. “Assassin, it will be one of yours, right?” She calls to him, but he continues his path. “A dirty one is totally fine!”
“Oh, come on, Fleur!” Ollie groans.
She cups her mouth to be heard over the distance. “Seriously, though! If it’s dirty, that’s fine with me. I’d much rather prefer—”
“Fleur, shut up!” Ollie silences her with a hand over her mouth. “I told you not to embarrass me.”
My eyes are watering from withheld laughter as Ollie and Fleur argue in French. These two are constant comedy.
“Killian?”
I turn toward the calling of my name and see Layla smiling up at me. The hilarity I was feeling dissolves, and my heart thuds in my chest.
“Layla, hey.”
She moves in for a hug. “So happy you’re home.” There’s a heaviness in her voice that makes me think maybe she’s not as happy as she’d like to be.
“I’m happy to be home.” A couple of awkward seconds linger between us as if she’s waiting for me to ask about Axelle, or maybe she’s hoping I don’t.
“Listen. If you’re looking for Cam, he’s in the conference room.”
“I don’t want to bother him—”
“You won’t. He’s waiting for you.” She looks over at Fleur. “Hi, I’m Layla, Cameron’s assistant.”
“Right, sorry.” I rub my forehead, trying to bring my brain back online after the complete one-eighty. “Layla, this is Fleur and her brother Olivier.”
They exchange greetings, and Layla mentions their beautiful accents, but I can’t shake the feeling that something about the exchange is making her sad.
I try to ignore it, grateful that I have a few days to pull myself together before I reach out to Axelle. I have to prepare myself for the possibility of seeing her and Clifford as one big happy family, and the certainty of seeing her as a mother.
“Well, fuck me stupid.”
Fleur snorts with laughter and Ollie chuckles.
Layla rolls her eyes. “Blake! Not in front of guests.”
Blake comes up beside her and pulls her to him. “How the hell did I fall in love with a woman with such sensitive ears? She gives me shit, yet she talks like a trucker when we’re alone.”
She rocks her hip into him. “Behave. Fleur and Olivier, this is my husband, Blake Daniels.”
Fleur tenses beside me, obviously recognizing who Blake and Layla are, or better yet who they are to Axelle.
“Killer.” Blake holds out his hand and I shake it. “Good to have you back.”
Seeing as the last time we were together he gave me a black eye, things are less than comfortable between us. “Thanks, Blake.”
“Haven’t missed one of your fights.” The pride in his voice swells in my chest. “Always knew you could do it.”
I nod, afraid that speaking will give away my delicate emotional state. I expected it to be difficult seeing them again. I didn’t expect it to be—
The door next to us swings open, which surprises me at first because it’s an old office that was used for storage.
A guy saunters out wearing nothing but a pair of loose workout shorts and a lazy and very satisfied smile. Judging by his size, he’s a fighter, but he’s also new. “Damn, woman, you’ve got the magic touch.” He rolls his shoulders back. “God, I love you. Are you sure you won’t marry me?”
“Easy, asshole.” Blake growls.
Blake’s reaction sends my gut tumbling, as if my body is trying to tell me something I should already know. Then I hear her.
And just like that the earth beneath me shifts.
“Oh, Trick, you don’t love me.” She appears in the doorway, and I swear to God I fucking choke on my own heartbeat. “You just want me for my hands.”
It’s her. It’s really her, and I never thought it possible for her to get any prettier than she already was, but here I am staring at the proof.
Suddenly, I’m sixteen again.
Gazing upon the kind of beauty I’d only read about in books.
Her hair is longer, pulled back in a sleek chestnut ponytail that reaches her mid-back. Her skin, at least the little I can see with her dressed in leggings and a polo, looks even softer than my dreams imagined over this last year.
She must feel me staring because slowly her smile falls as she turns her head toward me.
When our eyes meet, it sends lightning through my veins.
Everyone dissolves around us. An A-bomb could go off and I’d never know it because locked in the liquid blue gaze of this girl, this woman who I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, nothing else exists.
“Kill…”
I bite my bottom lip, suddenly at a complete loss for words.
“Oh look!” Layla says, but I can’t pull my eyes off Axelle. “There’s Jonah.”
I feel the people around us shift, as if they’re walking away, but not before Fleur’s voice is at my ear. “Will you be alright?”
Axelle rips her gaze from mine, and I could cry from the loss of it, but it zeroes in on Fleur in a way that makes me feel like I need to stand between them.
“I’m fine.”
I register the absence of her presence and take a hesitant step toward Axelle.
Her eyes dart from Fleur’s retreat to me.
“I missed you.” I cringe as the pathetic, but true, words fall from my lips.
She grins; it’s small and sweet and so fucking gorgeous it hurts. “Really?”
I blink at the disbelief in her voice. How can she even question that? “Yes.”
She nervously tugs on the front of her shirt, pulling it tight across her breasts, and my mouth waters at the memory of their taste, the feel of them in my hands, the—
Wait. I point to the embroidered logo on her chest. “UFL?”
“Yeah, I work here now.”
The room, the guy stumbling out… My mind slowly connects it all. “Doing sports therapy or…”
“Massage.” She draws her shoulders back in a sense of accomplishment. “I got my license last month.”
She was a business major. “What about school?”
She licks her lips and looks around as if to see who might hear. “It’s a long story. I dropped out shortly after you left.”
The baby. Of course. I’m sure finishing up college while pregnant isn’t ideal. “Right, that makes sense.”
Her breath shakes with a deep inhale. “You…” She motions to me, her eyes roaming over my designer clothes that I never felt ashamed of until now. “Wow…you’re looking very…successful.”
I step closer to her, and the urge to pull her in my arms and feel her, remind her that behind the designer labels I’m still me, is overpowering. She takes a retreating step as if she can read my intent and then holds up her hands. “Massage oil. I wouldn’t want to ruin your nice clothes.”
Rejected. I cross my arms over my chest to keep from touching her. “How’s everything else?” Clifford. The baby.
“Good.” A high-pitched squeal calls her eyes away from mine, and I stare at her profile as she squints off into the distance. “Wow, your girlfriend really likes Jonah.”
Girlfriend? I whip my head around to see Fleur wrapped around Jonah’s leg and Ollie trying to pull her off as they argue back and forth in French. Luckily, Jonah doesn’t seem too pissed off, and Blake’s laughing so hard his face is bright red from it.
I turn back to Ax. “Fleur and I—”
“Axelle, beautiful, are you ready for me?”
I instinctively step in front of her and glare at a half-naked fighter.
She leans around me. “Give me two minutes, Jose?”
“Sure thing, mami.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Hey, I know you.” His eyes brighten. “You’re Quick Kill, yeah?”
“Yeah, and you’re Jose.” Fucking talking to my girl like she’s some piece of ass.
My girl? She could be married, but I didn’t notice a ring. Maybe she takes it off to do massage. Dammit, there’s so much I still don’t know.
“Jose?” Axelle says again. “Two minutes and then you can fawn over the superstar all you want.”
I turn back to her, not at all comfortable with her tone. She said superstar like it’s some joke.
“Killian, it was really great to see you, and I’m so happy you’re doing well.”
My chin tucks in to my throat. “So that’s it?”
“What’s it?”
I blink, shocked after everything we’ve been through that she can so easily blow me off. “It’s been a year. I thought…” I rub the back of my neck, hating the fact that I want to beg. “Forget it.”
“Okay.” She smiles sweetly, not a hint of regret in her expression. “I’ll see you around.” She waves Jose over.
“Wait.” I move in close without even thinking about it. “Can I call you?” This is wrong. She’s my best friend, and it’s like there’s a canyon between us.
She doesn’t answer immediately, which seriously pisses me off, and then nods. “Sure, I’ll give you my number.”
I glare at Jose, who’s studying us like he’s watching mold grow. “I have your number.”
“Ha…could’ve fooled me.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugs. “I’m surprised you have my number, seeing as you never use it.”
I open my mouth to defend myself, but slam it shut because I don’t have a defense. She’s right.
She disappears into her massage room and comes out with a card. “I have a new number anyway, as of a couple of months ago.” She passes the card to me.
Axelle Daniels
Massage Therapist
Not married. I breathe a sigh of relief as hope floods my chest.
“I tried to call you,” she whispers. “After you left, I called.”
“I left my phone.” Because I was afraid of what one more word from you would do to me.
“I know. I saw Ryder packing up your stuff, and your phone was there.”
“You told me to go; I was just following orders.” I cringe at the hurt that flashes in her eyes. I run a hand through my hair and wipe the slight stick of hair product on my jeans.
Those blue eyes score through me as she lets me sit in my own self-hatred.
“I gotta go.” She smiles sadly and then waves Jose into the room, closing the door behind him.
Closing them in together.
While I stare at the door and contemplate breaking the fucker down.
She acts like everything that happened between us was my fault, like I’m the one who walked away, when she knows damn well she shoved me into this life without apology.
Not that I have a right to be upset, leaving was the best thing I could’ve done for my career. From the frigid way Axelle’s welcomed me home, I’d say leaving was the best thing for her too.
Why the hell does that hurt so bad?
~~~
I pull my phone out of my pocket and head for a quiet corner away from Fleur’s incessant screeching. I quickly add Axelle’s new number to my contacts, storing the important information from her card.
I scroll through my contacts for a different number, and once I find it, I hit “send.”
Ryder answers after only a few rings.
“See what I did there, asshole? Phone rings; I pick it up. It wasn’t even that hard. You should give it a shot sometime.”
“You’re still pissed.”
“Yeah. So you’re obviously calling for a reason. Dad said you were coming back. I’m assuming you want your shit. I gave the key to your storage place to my dad. He’s got all the info.”
“That’s not why I’m calling. I need to talk to you.”
“No.”
I groan and drop my chin. “Really? So that’s it.”
“I’m headed into class right now—”
“I’ll meet you on campus.”
“Are you kidding? That’ll cause a fucking mob.”
He’s probably right. “What about—?”
“Meet me at my pad in two hours.”
My muscles release the tension I didn’t even know I was holding. “Thanks, man. I—”
The line disconnects.
He agreed to hear me out, which is more than I expected.
I shove my phone into my pocket and slide down the wall to plant my ass on the concrete floor. And for the next two hours, I stare at that massage room door. Ollie and Fleur are busy picking Blake’s and Jonah’s brains and have moved on to the full tour without me. People come by to say hi, Cameron stops to welcome me home, but my gaze is glued to that door, not willing to miss another chance to lay my sights on her. When she finally does come out, her eyes flash to mine then narrow before she takes in another fighter.
She seems to be really good at what she does. Every fighter that leaves that room does so with a smile and a dazed look in their eyes. Not that I blame them.
I know what it feels like to have her hands on me. I’ve experienced firsthand what it’s like to be drunk on her attention. It’s the closest thing to heaven.