Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)

by JB Salsbury

  “Oh…” She hits a few numbers then hits “end.” “No, that’s not it.” Her face screws up again. “Hmmm…six four five eight…” She mumbles to herself until she finally presses the phone to her ear. “Mindy, hey, I’m on Killian’s phone. I left my stuff in your car.” She picks at a loose thread on my bedspread. “Yeah, well that didn’t work out. He was busy entertaining. I mean it was his party. No, I’m not mad. I…” Her eyes dart to mine. “Listen. Since you’re still out and I don’t have my key to get into our place, I’m gonna crash with Kill.”

  I can’t hear the questions that Mindy’s asking, but the series of yeses and noes makes me think they’re about me, and Axelle’s trying to answer without letting on. I grab my glasses from my bedside table, grateful for the return of clear vision. I’ve only been wearing contacts for a couple of years now. Cameron was cool enough to include medical insurance when he hired me in my senior year of high school, so I could finally afford them. Still love wearing my glasses though. Never do enjoy sticking my fingers in my eyes.

  “You too. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hits “end” and passes me the phone.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, she ended up ditching the party for this football player she’s been skeezing on. She’s staying with him tonight.”

  “You still tired or do you want to watch—?”

  “I know what you think of me.” Her mouth is pulled in a tight line, and her spine is straight and rigid. “You don’t have to keep saving me.”

  I blink and my brain scatters to figure out how I missed the first part of this conversation, because that just came out of nowhere. “What is it you think I think of you?”

  She sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically. “Please, Kill. I’m the world’s most pathetic damsel in distress.”

  “You’re wrong. That’s not what I think.”

  “You said it yourself. I put myself in unsafe situations, and I’m constantly requiring your white knighthood.”

  I push up my glasses, hoping to cover the twitch of my lips. “My white knighthood?”

  She glares, but she’s grinning so it doesn’t count. “You know what I mean.”

  I scratch my head. “I don’t, but let me fill you in on something while we’re on the topic of what I think about you.”

  She sucks in a shaky breath like she’s prepping for a verbal smack down.

  “I think you’ve been through more in twenty years of life than most people twice your age. You witnessed your mother being abused, heard her being raped by a man who you thought up until you were sixteen-years-old was your father. Then you find out the man who really is your father took advantage of your mom, knew she got pregnant, and took off anyway.” Her eyes tear up, but I can’t stop now. She needs to hear this. “Things are looking up for you now. You got a great stepdad who’d fucking kill for you; he loves you so much. You got a baby brother who acts like you’re happiness incarnate, and you get to watch that…”

  A soft whimper falls from her lips.

  “You get to watch the perfect family you always wanted, and even though you’re a part of it, you still feel like you don’t belong. Like you’re the outsider looking in. And that…” I shrug. “That kills you.”

  She nods slowly as a single tear falls down her face.

  “I don’t see a damsel in distress in need of saving. I see a woman just trying to make sense of her life, searching for where she fits in it all. I’d like to be there while she does that, make sure she stays in one piece so that when she does finally grab hold of her piece of happiness, she does it alive and healthy enough to enjoy it.”

  Her hands cup her face, and her shoulders shake with silent cries.

  “Come here.” I pull her down to my chest and wrap her up in my arms. She’s not a big girl, average height and the perfect weight—fit with healthy curves—but in my arms she feels tiny.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her cheek is pressed to my pec and her arm thrown over my gut. “You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

  Friend.

  I cringe hard at that word.

  Fuck, at this rate, the way I keep shoving myself into the friend zone, it’s all I’ll ever be.

  Four

  Axelle

  I don’t know which woke me up first, the sound of breakfast being made or the smell of bacon and melted butter. Either way the first thing I see when I crack open my eyes is Killian’s back while he works at his tiny stove, mixing up what I hope will be breakfast for two.

  I snuggle deeper into the Downey-scented sheets and admire his entire backside: his broad shoulders that pull the thin fabric of a worn T-shirt taut, the mounds of muscle that jump in his back as he moves effortlessly in the small space of his kitchenette, rippling triceps, and the narrow waist that flares into a healthy round ass that holds up his heather-gray sweatpants. God bless squats.

  He moves to put something in the fridge and catches me staring. Those whiskey-colored eyes shine behind black-framed glasses, his dark hair falls over his forehead, and the side of his mouth lifts in a crooked grin. “Morning.”

  “Hey, you sure are busy at this ungodly hour.” I stretch and notice his eyes track down to my chest before he whips his head around to focus on the contents of his fridge.

  “It’s almost nine in the morning, Ax.” He shuts the door, and his bare feet slap against the tile as he goes back to whatever he was doing on the stovetop.

  “But it’s Saturday. Wait…” I prop myself up on my elbows, and I don’t have to see my hair to know I look like Beetlejuice. I can feel it. “Why aren’t you at the training center?”

  He scoops something onto two plates. Score! “Blake and Jonah forbid it. Said I needed a recovery day.” He moves to place the plates on the small table, and I notice then there are two icy glasses of water already waiting.

  I smack my lips together, my mouth feeling like I sucked on a sock in my sleep while the tang of metal mixes with the soreness from my piercing. “That’s probably smart.”

  “Come eat.” He stands at the table with a shy smile that adds a boyish handsomeness to his intimidating size.

  I hop out of bed and hit the bathroom then move to the kitchenette, smoothing down my hair as much as I can manage, which isn’t much seeing as I can still see it from my peripheral vision. “Going to bed with wet hair is never advisable. Don’t suppose you have a ponytail holder, huh?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts as he studies my hair. “I think it looks great.”

  “Ha! You’re such a liar.” I take a seat in front of a full plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. “Kill, this looks so good. I’m starving.”

  He moves to the small bowl where he keeps his keys and comes back to drop a black ponytail holder next to my plate.

  “Oh, you do have one?” A flicker of something really uncomfortable tenses my belly. “How do you have a hair tie in your place?”

  He takes his seat and shovels a bite of eggs into his mouth, swallowing and lifting a brow. “How do you think?”

  That uncomfortable feeling twists violently. “Oh, um…” Wow. A girl. Nice. I mean good for him. I slick back my unruly hair with a little more aggression than is required.

  Nice to see he’s bringing girls to his place; probably cooks them breakfast too. Well, the ponytail holder is stupid and boring. Probably just like the woman who owns it—

  “It’s yours, Ax.” I dart my eyes to him, but he’s focused on his food, chewing. “You left it here a few weeks ago.”

  My cheeks flame and my shoulders cave in. “Oh, right. Well, thanks for holding on to it for me.”

  He makes a sound like he heard me but leaves me in silence with my humility while I shovel food into my mouth. What the hell was that all about anyway? He’s free to date whoever he wants. The eggs are fluffy and buttery and the bacon just the salty relief required after a night of drinking.

  Killian has been cooking for him and his mom since he was a kid. S
he never took very good care of him, or so he tells me. To this day I’ve only been around her once, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. He never talks about her, but explains away things like his exceptional cooking skills, stain-removing techniques, and organization by saying he was forced to grow up fast.

  “How’s the”—he motions to my mouth with his fork—“tongue?”

  I swish with some cold water and hold back a groan at how good it feels against my heated mouth. “Sore.”

  “I have mouthwash. After you eat, you should go clean it.”

  He’s always taking care of me. “Thanks. I will.”

  He forks a bite into his mouth and swallows; then his jaw clenches hard. “And Clifford, how’d he like it?”

  Humiliation burns my cheeks, and I keep my eyes to my plate, even though I can feel him staring at me intently. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Guess him leaving you alone to pass out in his bed tells me all I need to know.”

  I open my mouth to defend myself, but slam it closed because I have no defense. He’s absolutely right.

  He scoops up his plate and tosses it into the sink with so much force I’m surprised the thing doesn’t break. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, and then we should get you home.” The slam of the bathroom door is the last thing I hear.

  I’m left alone to finish my breakfast but have lost my appetite.

  The water in the shower kicks on, and I take my plate to the sink. It doesn’t take long to do the dishes. Killian is a clean-as-you-go guy, so outside of our plates and glasses, there’s nothing more to do. Once that’s done I make the full-sized bed and plop into a chair, waiting for him to come out so I can brush my teeth, clean my piercing, and change back into my clothes.

  The shower seems to go on forever, and the thought of what he might be doing in there makes my skin flush. I rip the rubber band from my hair and pull a higher ponytail on my head to try to get some cool air on my neck. It doesn’t help. Eventually the shower shuts off, and minutes later, he strolls out wearing a pair of jeans, bare feet, and no shirt. He’s not wearing his glasses, and his brown hair looks black, wet and combed away from his face, as he rifles through his drawers and throws on a tee. The second he pulls it on, I roll my eyes. It’s one of his favs, blue, and reads, “That’s what I’m Tolkien about.”

  His gaze lands on the bed. “Thank you.”

  I think he means for making the bed, but something heavy in his tone has me second-guessing. “You’re welcome.” I hop up to head for the bathroom.

  “Ax.”

  I stop and turn to him, his eyes heavy with something, regret maybe?

  “Never mind.”

  “Okay.” I head into the bathroom to get ready to go home and can’t help but wonder if he’s holding back as much as I am.

  ~*~

  Killian

  My stomach’s growling again by the time I pull up to Axelle’s to drop her off. Her place is much nicer than mine—a two-bedroom apartment in a gated complex with assigned parking spots. There’s plenty of lighting in the lot as well as surveillance cameras. Blake insisted after she lived her first year in the dorms that she move somewhere safe, and he made it his mission to find the safest complex near the university.

  It worked out that Axelle ended up meeting Mindy her first year. They weren’t roommates but lived on the same floor, and both were itching for off-campus living. Money wasn’t a factor seeing as Mindy’s family are heirs to some heating blanket fortune or some shit. So yeah, my girl is living in luxury, albeit college style, but still her place is sick AF.

  I throw the Jeep into visitor parking and walk her to her door. Things have been quiet between us since our talk over breakfast. Fuck, seeing her wake up in my bed, her bare leg thrown over the comforter and all that hair tossed around her face, made me imagine things that are far from innocent. At one point in the night, she curled up to me and slid her palm up my stomach to my chest. I’ve never felt anything like it. I tried to convince myself she knew exactly where she was and who she was touching, but the truth is she probably had no fucking clue. Most likely she thought she was sleeping with that dick Clifford, which makes me want to slam the asshole’s face into a brick wall.

  I walk her to her door, and because she doesn’t have a key, she has to ring her own doorbell.

  A little over a minute later a guy answers. He rubs his hand over his cropped hair and squints into the sun. “Oh, hey…um…” His eyes dip to his waist where he’s sporting nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. “Sorry, I’m…” His bloodshot eyes take in Axelle from head to toe, and I almost pull her back to stand behind me, but luckily his gaze comes to me. “Who are you and where am I?”

  Axelle giggles. “You must be the football player?”

  “I’m the football player, yeah.”

  “I’m Axelle.” She presses a palm against my chest. “This is Killian, and you’re at my apartment with my roommate, Mindy.”

  His eyes light with recognition and he grins. “Oh, Mindy. Right. Shit, okay, yeah.” He steps back so we can enter. “My bad. Come on in.” He pats his hips where his pockets should be. “And my pants are…?”

  Axelle grabs my hand and leads me through the living room, snagging her purse off the couch on our way to her room. “Don’t mind us. We’ll be in here and won’t bother you.” She closes the door behind us and whirls around to gape at me. “Oh my God, did you see him?”

  “Hard not to. He was at the door damn near naked—”

  “I know, right?” Her giggles mature into full-blown laughter. “We have to stay in here.”

  “So what, now we’re being held hostage in your room until he leaves?”

  “Well, duh! Yeah! This is a pivotal moment. How they handle this awkward morning-after will determine what happens from here on out.”

  I tilt my head. “You’re serious.”

  “Hell yeah, I’m serious. Think about it. This is the final taste, that last bite that makes you either A. want to go back for seconds or B. makes you want to move on to the next place.”

  I can’t offer agreement. Obviously, I wouldn’t know. The fact that she does makes me grind my teeth.

  Fuck. Play it cool, Killian.

  I sigh and flop back onto Axelle’s twin bed, my feet hanging off the end. I remember the day we moved her in and Mindy asked why Ax got such a tiny bed. Blake had said, “It’s not tiny, Mindy; it’s built for one person.” He glared at Axelle, sending the very clear message that dudes were not welcome to warm her sheets. If he had any clue, he’d flip his shit.

  She drops her purse on her bedside table and fishes out her phone. I watch her expression morph, her smile fall, and her brows pinch together as she clicks through what I assume to be text messages.

  “Everything okay?”

  Her gaze jerks to mine, and it’s as if she forgot I was even there. “Oh, yeah. It’s Clifford. Guess he must’ve been worried about me or something.”

  “Ha!” Worried. Right. More like disappointed she wasn’t left alone and defenseless in his bed.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  I stretch one arm up and prop my head on it. “No, that obvious?”

  She laughs. “Yeah, it is.”

  I shrug. What can I say? Just another dipshit in the lineup of total dicks that compose Axelle’s dating life. The good news is none of her relationships have ever been serious. I know she’s working hard to fill the void her dad—or dads—left behind, and as much as I want to confess that I’m in love with her, I know she’s not ready for it. I’ve got one shot at winning her, and jumping too soon will make me another one of her hole-fillers. Literally.

  “Why are you blushing?”

  Fuck. My face is burning up. “I’m not. It’s hot as hell in here.” Has nothing to do with thinking about filling your ho—

  “I’ll turn on the fan.” She hits the switch on the wall, and then her fingers fly over the keys of her phone. She’s texting the prick back, and if I kn
ow Ax, she’s apologizing for doing nothing wrong.

  God, I hate that guy.

  The five-tone chime from Close Encounters of the Third Kind sounds from my pocket and I grab my phone. I don’t even care who’s calling, anything to take my mind off Axelle kissing Clifford’s ass via text message.

  “Hello?”

  “Killer, where the fuck are you?” I check the caller ID and see he’s not calling from his cell, but from his office.

  I sit up at the demand in Cam’s voice. The guy has no conversational tone. He could be reading Shakespeare, and it would sound like he’s commanding an army. “Blake and Jonah told me to take a day off.”

  My explanation is met with silence, which makes my palms sweat.

  “Wait. What are you doing there? It’s Saturday.”

  “Came in to talk to you, but your training partners seem to think they run this organization.” He mumbles something I can’t make out before dropping a pretty hefty f-bomb. “How fast can you get here?”

  Cam says jump; I say how high and at what velocity. “Ten minutes.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Um…can you give me a heads up—?”

  The line goes dead.

  I tuck the phone back into my pocket, and Axelle’s still texting. Now her fingers are really moving, and a hint of anger pinches her usually smooth forehead.

  “You think Mindy and Naked Heisman are done out there?”

  She peers up at me and smiles. Fuck, she always manages to take my breath away. “No clue.”

  “I gotta run. Cam’s waiting for me.”

  “Oh, okay. Then sure, just storm on through. I’d keep your head down though, ya know, just in case they’re going at it in the kitchen.”

  I cross to her door and tug her ponytail as I pass. “Talk to you later.”

  “Wait.” She blinks and swallows before setting those piercing blue eyes on me. “Thanks for helping me out last night. I mean I’m sure I would’ve been fine, but—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m always here if you need me.” I motion to the door. “I really need to go.”