by JB Salsbury
Fleur’s hand rests gently on my thigh as if to confirm his words. I want to look at her, to reassure her in some way, but I can’t. I can’t stand the hope that I find in her hazel eyes every single time we’re together. The confusion that pinches her brows when she tries to read me.
“Salud!”
We all throw back a healthy gulp of whatever we’re drinking and get nods of approval or dirty looks from those dining around us.
Fleur rocks her shoulder into mine. “I can’t believe you might only be here for another month.”
She really is beautiful, especially tonight. Her hair is long and wavy around her face, framing those wide eyes that look almost green against her red dress. Her full lips are painted the same candy-apple shade, and her skin looks so soft.
And staring at her as she peers up at me with such longing, I can’t help but think of the one girl I wish so desperately was in her place.
It makes me sick to think by spending time with Fleur I’m leading her on in some way. Sure, we’ve shared the occasional kiss, and yes, not all of them have been innocent. I blame myself for that.
“The contract’s been offered, Killian.” Jay leans back in his seat, sipping a scotch neat. “When do you think you’ll decide?”
I shrug and look around the table, feeling suddenly suffocated by my tie. “I think I’ll go home first, talk to Cameron and my US team.”
“Blimey, if they’ve got any sense, they’ll convince you to stay.” Liam throws back almost a half a glass of red wine.
“Liam, don’t be daft. You’d have to be mental to walk away from training partners like that.” Fleur looks around the table. “You know he gets to train with MMA gods, right?”
Caleb and I laugh. It’s true that Jonah, Blake, and Rex have secured their spots as the top MMA all-stars, but they’re far from gods.
Fuck. I can’t believe I just thought that.
I’ve worshipped every step they’ve taken my entire life up until, well, up until I started fighting. What does that mean?
“Why don’t you guys come with us?”
My head jerks to Caleb as he sits back in his fancy-ass chair, wearing his fancy-ass suit and grinning wide.
The entire table is silent.
“Are you serious?” I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the idea of having all my London family mixing with my US family, but I can’t pinpoint the reasons why.
“Fuck, yeah, I’m serious.” He shrugs. “Let’s bring them home for a week. Let them experience Vegas and all it has to offer.”
Ollie looks at his sister. “We’ll never come back.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think we will.”
“Paris first,” Ollie says. “We’ve been so busy training this guy”—he nods to me—“we haven’t been home in a year.”
Laise holds up his glass. “I love Paris!”
“So it’s settled.” Caleb lifts his glass. “Paris, and then we’re bringing our ragtag team home.”
Another raucous explosion of cheers and expletives is followed by Henry’s belted, “Happy Fucking Christmas!”
Shortly afterward we’re asked to leave.
~~~
The cab ride home is mostly a silent one as Fleur sits next to me, her hand wrapped tightly around mine. The boys wanted to hit the pubs, but I’m in no mood to party. I’m drunk, conflicted, and feeling weaker than I have since before my first fight. Fleur gets enough of the rowdy-boy shit in her every day and insisted she was tired, but something tells me there’s more to our sharing a cab than she let on.
“When we get back to mine, do you fancy coming in?” There it is. Even in the dark, I don’t miss the hope in her eyes.
I rub my forehead, trying to sort out the best way to answer. Truth is I’d love the company, but I’m missing home and hammered and probably not much fun to be around. “I don’t think you want to hang out with me tonight.” I chuckle, the booze making my lame rejection seem hilarious.
The taxi comes to a stop. “That’ll be forty pounds.”
“Bad company is better than no company.” She tugs on my hand. “Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”
Not in the mood to argue, or possibly too drunk and lazy to try, I pay the cab and allow her to pull me from the seat and up to her front door. Snow covers the ground, and I know I should be feeling the bite of the chill in the air but remain numb.
She pushes open the door, and we stumble inside the two-room flat she shares with Ollie. She rubs her arms over her coat and adjusts the wall heater as I slump to her couch at an angle with one knee on the cushions.
“I hope you like Earl Grey,” she calls from the stove, banging through cupboards.
“That’s fine, thanks.” I allow my eyes to slide closed, and with the liquor making my defenses flimsy, I allow myself to do the unthinkable.
Get lost in memories of Axelle.
Her legs locked on mine, skin on skin, holding us together so fiercely her muscles shake. “I love you.” She spoke those three words against my mouth, the sweet heat of her love breathing life into mine.
I ran my nose up her neck, getting drunk off her scent. “I love you too, so fucking much.”
She was scared. I remember her voice trembled as she whispered in my ear, “This is really happening? Us, I mean?”
I would’ve given anything for her to see herself through my eyes. If I had to gouge out my own and rip out my beating heart, I would’ve done it gladly if only to make her understand. “It’s happening. You and me? This is as real as it gets.”
The couch dips beside me, and I lazily open my eyes to Fleur. “Hey.”
Her hand caresses my cheek, and I lean into her touch, accepting her comfort.
“Tea.” She hands me a squat teacup, and I push myself up a little to take a few sips.
“Thanks.”
She places it on the table, and it hits me that she’s always taking care of me. It’s a strange role reversal from what I’m used to. With Axelle, it was always me taking care of her. Being on the receiving end of someone’s kindness is nice but also makes me feel a little guilty. I wonder if this is what Ax was talking about the day she told me to go to England, if my years of looking after her gave her more to feel bad about rather than the comfort I’d tried to give.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Her hand glides up my chest to loosen my tie. “I like doing it.”
“Fleur.” I still her hand at my neck. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She flinches slightly and moves her hand from my tie to the back of my neck, her fingers pressing in to loosen the tight muscles. I’ve been so fucking tense, and the way her fingers roll against my neck makes me groan.
“I wonder, just for one night, will you let me be her?”
My eyes are closed as she continues to massage my neck. “Who?”
Her fingers stiffen against my collar. “The girl you can’t stop thinking about.”
My gaze snaps to hers, and her hand moves up to cup my jaw.
“I want to know what it’s like, Killian.” Her eyes search mine. “I wouldn’t expect anything, just… We can pretend I’m her.”
“God…no.” I try to push away from her, but with my back to the couch I don’t get far. “That’s wrong. I—”
“Who’s to say what’s wrong? I know you miss her, and I want to know what it feels like to be loved like that.” She moves closer, erasing what little distance I’d managed to put between us. “It’ll stay between us. Just for tonight, we can give each other what we both want. I can give you her, and you can give me you.”
Booze-fogged, I’m tongue-tied and struck dumb. “I’m drunk, Fleur. Whatever you think you saw is just me being out of my mind and missing someone.”
“It’s not just tonight. I’ve seen her on your mind a lot. The cross you do on your chest after every fight.” She makes a fist over her heart and then the X before bringing her fist to her lips. “That’s for her?”
Usual
ly I’d lie, but I’m so sick of pretending. I swallow, my eyes burning. “Yes.”
She leans in and peppers kisses along my jaw. I know I should push her away, should jump up and storm out and let the freezing outdoor temps cool the fire of arousal I can’t seem to shake. The scent of her expensive perfume swirls my senses, and my body responds to her touch, hardening with need. “Fleur, we can’t.” The words come freely, but I lack the strength to move because every single touch brings me back to Axelle.
Her hand glides down my chest to slip her fingers between the buttons. “Let me be her, Killian.”
The offer is so sweet, so damn tempting, to close my eyes and get lost in Axelle’s body, even if only in fantasy. The delicate touch of Fleur’s lips meets mine, and I give in to the illusion. My hands fork into her hair, tilting her head to gain deeper access. She tastes of red wine and sweet tea. I push the rich flavors from my thoughts and pretend it’s the Jolly Rancher taste of Axelle’s lip gloss.
“Where are you?”
Her soft giggle sounds in my ear. “Thought it was pretty obvious. I’m right here, Kill. I’m not going anywhere.”
She’s here, her luscious body pressed against mine. “Yeah?”
Her breathy moan ignites my blood. “This is right where I’m supposed to be.”
I cup her breasts, flicking the nipple with impatience. “I miss you, baby. I miss you so fucking much.” My voice cracks, and I swallow her answering whimper.
I flip her so she’s beneath me, her tiny form fragile and writhing. The skin on her inner thigh is like the smoothest silk against my palm as I slide it up to cup her over her panties. “Don’t leave me, Axelle.”
She gasps.
“Please, baby…don’t push me away again.”
~*~
Axelle
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Santa came.” I run my hands through Jack’s thick blond hair until his eyes blink open. “Hey, Merry Christmas, buddy.”
He yawns and pushes himself up from his racecar toddler bed. “Santa came?” His scratchy little voice is laced with excitement.
“He did. You wanna come see?”
He nods and throws his arms around my neck, his four-year-old-body clad in red-and-green camo pj’s his Uncle Braeden sent him for Christmas. “Did he bring me a Nerf N-Strike Elite Rhino-Fire Blaster?” He punctuates his question with another yawn.
I nuzzle his little neck. “I think you’ll have to unwrap them all to find out.”
As we step into the living room, the Christmas tree lights bathe everything in an ethereal glow. His eyes pop wide open, and he wiggles out of my arms. “Santa came!”
He races to the tree, and I grab the coffee I made when I woke up and settle on the couch with my legs tucked beneath me.
“Whoa…” Blake comes in, dragging his feet, wearing his red pajama pants and UFL T-shirt. “I thought I heard elves out here.” He swings his eyes to me. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”
“Merry Christmas.” I nod to the kitchen. “Coffee’s made.”
“Thank God.” He moves slowly to the kitchen when my mom comes barreling out of the hallway with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and her Christmas shorts and tank top on. Yeah, we’re the cheesy Christmas pajama family. It’s a beautiful thing.
“Did I miss anything?” She drops to her knees next to Jack as he pulls every single present from under the tree.
“Mom, look what Santa brought!” His face is so bright and cheery, not a single trace of the tired kid I brought out here just seconds before.
“I see. Now don’t forget to only open gifts with your name on them, okay?”
“J-A-C-K. Here’s one!” He pushes it behind his back. “This starts with A.” He shoves it back under the tree. “J-A. Another one!”
Blake returns from the kitchen with two mugs. He hands one off to my mom and kisses her lightly. “Merry Christmas, Mouse.”
They’re so cute I could puke.
Blake drops down beside me. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah, too good. I thought I’d sleep in and miss Christmas.”
“Your room warm enough?”
“Yes, Dad.” I shake my head and take a sip of coffee.
He grins. Big. “Just making sure you’re comfortable in your new home.”
My smile falls a little. It wasn’t by choice, necessarily, that I ended up living back at home with my mom and Blake, but I can’t deny it was the smart thing to do.
Or more importantly the safest thing to do.
I can’t complain.
Things could be worse.
Things could always be worse.
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.
