by Molly McLain
FIGHT - Velocity #2
Molly McLain
The story continues…
I trusted Colton with every bit of myself. I believed him when he promised he’d never hurt me. But he broke me…and now I watch him give another woman everything I thought would be mine.
I never saw this coming.
I don’t blame Taylor for the decisions she’s made, because I know the fault is all mine. I took her for granted. I broke her heart.
But she’s everything to me. If the guy holding her now thinks for one second that I’ll lay down without a fight, he’s dead wrong.
Because I’m coming after what’s mine.
FIGHT (Velocity, #2)
Published by Molly McLain Books, LLC
Cover Design & Photography: Sara Eirew
Editor: Dana Waganer
Copyright © 2016 Molly McLain Books, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a media retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book, excepting brief quotations for use in reviews. Purchase only authorized copies.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, brands, etc. are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, locations, events, etc. are entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Taylor
Nine weeks and two days.
That’s what the monitor beside me says as Dr. Brower measures the tiny, pulsing mass in the middle of the screen. I could tell him with absolute certainty that I’m actually nine weeks and four days, but I don’t.
A month after Casey broke the news—and three more tests to confirm the first—I’m still speechless. Numb, really, because getting pregnant at twenty-three was definitely not part of “the plan”.
Then again, neither was sleeping with my best friend.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Brower says with a kind smile. A smile that tells me he can sense my unease. “Your pregnancy looks healthy, Ms. Jansen. Have you had any spotting or pain?”
I shake my head. I’ve had nothing but countless tears and sleepless nights.
The middle-aged man nods sympathetically. “Any concerns you’d like to discuss?”
Only a hundred, but there isn’t a single one that he can help me with. “Not right now, thank you.”
“Okay then. Let’s get you dressed so we can talk about prenatal vitamins and your next appointment.”
The thirty-something nurse who’s lingered quietly in the shadows of the exam room steps forward with a gentle smile of her own. “Dr. B., I can finish up in here, if you’d like to take care of the prescription. Do you use a local pharmacy, Taylor?”
“Um…” I’ve only been in Madison for a few weeks. I’ve barely had a chance to unpack, let alone establish with a new pharmacy. “How about the Walgreens on University?”
“Got it.” The doctor heads for the exit with a quick glance over his shoulder. “We’ll see you in a month, then. Call if something comes up in the meantime.”
“I will. Thank you again.”
He leaves me alone with the kind nurse, who waits until the door is closed before she gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Are you okay, sweetie? You don’t seem thrilled.”
Thrilled? What the hell is there to be thrilled about? In a single night, I screwed up the one sure thing I had going in my life. The one friendship I thought I’d have forever. The one person I trusted with every part of myself. Obviously.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m just…” Pregnant.
Pregnant with my best friend’s baby.
- - -
How did the appointment go? Casey texts as I unlock the door to my apartment an hour later. I juggle my phone, purse, and three Walgreens bags as I clamor inside, half out of breath.
I’m exhausted. I have been for weeks and it’s not entirely the baby’s fault. My summer classes are kicking my butt, too. Fourteen credits is one heck of a way to dive back into things. Then again, that seems to be my unspoken motto lately—all in, head first, no looking back.
Good, I thumb into my phone. Pumpkin looks healthy. I don’t tell her how far along I am, though she’s asked me a hundred times already if I have any idea when I’m due. She also asked who the father was when she presented me with the test that first day, and somehow I’ve managed to evade the question.
It’s not that I want to lie to Casey. She’s just one hell of a detective. Too much information and she’ll put together the pieces. Right now, I’m not ready for that. Not until I figure out how to tell Colton.
Hear the heartbeat yet?
Yep. Nice and strong.
Aww. I’m jealous.
Please don’t be, I want to say. Don’t envy my screwed up situation. I get her reasoning though. She wanted to be pregnant and wasn’t. I never expected to be…and I am.
You doing okay in the big city?
Of course. Love it here. And I do. My job at the coffee shop is more fun than I expected, and Adam’s proven to be a pretty cool roommate. He’s been so busy at work that I rarely see him for more than twenty minutes at a crack. That’s both a blessing and a letdown. Being alone as often as I am leaves me with far too much time on my hands to think. And think, and think some more.
You know I’m here if you want to talk.
That’s probably not going to happen, but… Will do. Can’t wait for the wedding.
K. Love you, girl. Peace out.
I smile at the phone and send her a simple XO.
The wedding is two weeks away, so, in theory, I have some time to figure out how I’m going to tell Colton about the tiny, gray-white bean I saw on the monitor today. The wedding will be the first time I see him since he left my house so late at night way back in May. I’d prefer not to come clean on his sister’s big day—a momentous event for the entire Wade family—but I can’t put it off any longer without my silence seeming intentional.
Which…who the hell am I kidding? It is intentional. I could’ve told him a hundred times in the past few weeks, but I haven’t. Why? Because having a baby together will permanently change the topography of our friendship and I don’t want to lose him any more than I already have.
But what can I do about it now? The seed’s already been planted. Literally.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I shake the thoughts from my head and spot a note from Adam scrawled on the white board. Out of butter. Sounds like a good excuse to go out, yeah? My treat.
Ugh. Why does he have to be such a nice guy? Sure, I’m lonely, but I’m also tired as all get out tonight. All I want to do is crawl into bed. Maybe rehash what I’ll say to Colton when the inevitable moment comes. And sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
But the polite offering also reminds me of the fact that I haven’t told Adam about the baby, either. I signed a twelve-month lease as a single occupant. Come the beginning of February, I can’t just toss up a crib and go on my merry way. Way to go, Taylor.
“Hey you.” The door opens and the devil himself saunters in. He’s dressed in basketball shorts and a sweaty tank top, and his five o’clock shadow looks more like midnight…five days later. He looks every part the athletic trainer he is. Right down to the Badger Football logo sprawled across his chest. “You’re home early.”
“Hey yourself. I skipped out of work for an appointment.” I cover a yawn with the back of my hand, as he kicks off his tennis shoes, dumps his duffle bag onto the floor, and hands me a box. “What’s this?”
<
br /> “Don’t know. Met the UPS guy out front.”
A quick glance at the handwritten address label sends every bit of air in my lungs to my throat where it sticks and refuses to move like a big, suffocating balloon.
“You think it’s a bomb?” Adam teases and I finally shake off my surprise enough to yank the package from his hands. Wielding a knife and shaky fingers, I tear into the box and pull out a worn copy of Persuasion.
Holy crap. “He remembered.”
Adam glances at the book and lifts an eyebrow. “Who’s he? And why is he sending you smelly old books?”
A ridiculous laugh rolls up from low in my belly and my face flushes hot. I want to cradle the book to my chest. Maybe stick my nose to it to see if it still carries any evidence that Col had touched it. His lingering cologne or racing fuel…
“Okay, don’t tell me,” Adam sighs. “But at least read the note.”
Note?
Tugging a piece of paper from the inside cover, he dangles it in front of my face playfully and I smile despite myself.
You’re going to steal every last piece of my heart, aren’t you, Colton Wade?
Ignoring the silly, schoolgirl fluttering in my chest, I snatch the blue half-sheet of paper from my roommate’s fingers and flip it over.
Hey beautiful…
Found this one at a garage sale in Pasadena. Stopped to check out a bike and there she was. The lady gave it to me for nothing when I told her I wanted it for a girl I can’t stop thinking about.
Miss you, Tee.
C
“Wow.” I smooth my fingers over the ink, loving how it feels against my skin. He touched this paper. He wrote these sweet words.
Adam clears his throat. “House warming gift?”
“Funny.” I bite back another grin as I tuck the note back into the book, resisting the urge to sniff it. A girl’s gotta have some pride. “Just a gift from a friend.”
“Mmm-hmm.” A crooked smirk slides across Adam’s face. “Did you see my message?”
I pause, hating that I’m about to be a party-pooper when I’ve spent half of my time here wishing for something more to occupy my down time. “Yep, I saw.”
“And?”
All day, I’ve fantasized about how good my bed will feel, but my conscience warns me: If you stay home alone tonight, you’ll do something you don’t want to do. Something like call Col and spill your guts.
“I don’t know…” I push a hand back through my hair, trying to discern what risk I am to myself tonight. After seeing the baby today, I’m skating close to my breaking point, which means disaster if left to my own devices. “What did you have in mind?”
A sweet, almost boyish expression lightens his face. “The Mexican place a few blocks over. A couple of the trainers are meeting up later.”
“Um…okay. I guess I could do that.” Confirming my decision, my stomach growls loudly. Adam grins.
“We’ll have to walk or grab Uber. You know, in case the margaritas go down too easy.”
That won’t be a problem for me, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I offer another smile. “Smart.” Maybe he’ll take the news better after a little tequila.
“Seven o’clock sound okay?”
“Perfect.” Just enough time to nap, but not enough to do anything too wild and crazy.
He starts walking backwards toward his side of the apartment. “Do me a favor in the meantime.”
“Yeah?”
Whipping his T-shirt over his head, revealing more man-chest than I’ve seen in a long while, he throws me a wink. “Don’t get stuck in that book and change your mind.”
- - -
Colton
“Tug ‘em down a little further, babe. Make me believe you want his dick in your mouth.” Flint leans in and snaps another dozen shots of Bria on her knees before me, her fingers in the waistband of my underwear. “Touch her hair, Col. Bring her in close.”
Fucking hell, I hate this. I don’t want this girl touching me and I sure as hell don’t want to touch her. But I do, because I’m getting paid to. Here in the studio and in the public eye.
This game we’ve been playing is wearing on my nerves and my only salvation is that motocross isn’t in the sports spotlight 24/7. I’m allowed at least some reprieve from this fake relationship, but the longer this draw outs, the more anxious I am to be the real me again.
To be the guy whose true interest lies with an auburn-haired beauty back in Wisconsin…not this Barbie-wannabe breathing hot air on my cock.
Flint orders us around for another ten minutes before calling a break to swap out his memory card. Liz strolls over from the bar with bottled water for each of us. The smarmy grin on her face only adds to my pissy mood.
“You two are on fire! I can’t believe how well this shoot is going.”
I take the water and wink. “Too bad we have one more left, huh?”
My agent narrows her eyes. “You spit that sarcasm now, but you won’t be so cocky when all those zeroes hit your bank account.”
“I don’t need the money,” I tell her without hesitation, though part of what she says is true. I hate this gig, but I do it for one reason and one reason only—my future with Taylor.
“Don’t be an arrogant ass,” she bites back. “We all could use that kind of money.”
Whatever. I ignore the jab and flop down onto the couch. “Speaking of arrogant… Your boy McKinnon ditched it on the course today. He’s probably got a nice case of road rash on the side of his pretty face by now.”
“Where was his helmet?” Liz frowns and I lift a shoulder.
“Told you he was a liability.”
“Ugh.” She flips her dark hair over her shoulder and stalks over to Flint, apparently ending the conversation.
Fine by me. I’m sick to death of trying to warn her about McKinnon. I’m sick of Bria, I’m sick of ProFit…I’m sick of everything that isn’t riding. None of it is what I really want for myself, but what the hell choice do I have? This BS is the path I have to take to get what I want.
I just hope Taylor doesn’t give up on me before I get there.
“Don’t forget about the meet-n-greet tomorrow.” Bria takes a seat in the chair across from me, as I stretch my legs out and lean back, eyes closed.
We’re home in L.A. this weekend, running the biggest show of the season for the home crowd. I usually love this particular gig, because High Octane goes all out, treating the California faithful to perks the fans in other cities don’t get. But this year that includes a little showboating from the circuit’s hot new ‘couple’ and I’m salty as hell about it.
“How could I forget the lie we’re both living?” I mutter, wishing she’d disappear.
“About that…” she begins, her voice low. “Can we talk sometime soon? Without Liz?”
I flick one eye open. “Why?”
“I have an idea.”
Probably not an idea I want any part of. “No thanks.”
“Colton, please…” She leans forward, shooting a quick glance at our agent and Flint, huddled together over his camera, raving about the shots. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
I’m not the least bit interested in any more of her if-we-just-do-this pleas. I’m definitely not interested in spending any more time with her. I give her too damn much of me already. “Let’s discuss it now.”
“Not here,” she whispers and, call me gullible, but her concerned expression actually seems genuine. Now that’s interesting.
The muscles in my jaw pulse as I stare at her. I really don’t like this woman, but something about the look in her eyes tells me that what she has to say is something I need to hear, even if I don’t want to. “I’m free for an hour once we wrap this up.”
Relief falls over her features. “Okay. Thank you. Um…the restaurant down the block? For coffee?”
“Whatever,” I grunt. “But just coffee.”
“Thank you,” she says again. When she stands and touches my knee, a
grimace slides down my spine. Weeks into this charade and her touch still isn’t any easier to swallow.
“Okay, love birds, back to work.” Flint waves us back over and Bria gives me a quick, albeit grateful, smile.
It’s just coffee, I tell myself. What’s another hour with her going to hurt?
- - -
Colton
The restaurant is friggin’ packed. I try to convince Bria to go someplace else, but she insists that it would take just as long to go somewhere new as it would take us to wait for a table here.
“Your hour is dwindling fast,” I grumble, as I pull my phone from my jeans and thumb to my text conversation with Taylor. We’ve gone from a hundred messages a day to ten every other day at most. I hate it, but what can I do? I screwed up the best thing I’ve ever had, and now I need to give her the time and space she needs to forgive me. If she’ll forgive me.
It kills me to stand back and do nothing. To let her have the fresh start she wants so badly. I’m not going to lie—I’m scared to friggin’ death that she’ll decide there’s not enough room for me to be something more in her life. Or worse: no room for me at all.
I snap a quick picture of myself frowning and send it to her without a message. To my surprise, she responds immediately: Bad night?
Miss you, I send back. Then I stand in the foyer of the restaurant like a dumb ass, hoping she’ll tell me she misses me, too. Of course, she doesn’t and by the time the hostess finally shows me and Bria to a table, I’m antsy as hell.
“We can’t only have coffee,” Bria whispers once we’re seated, discreetly nodding to the crowd around us. “People will get pissed that we’re hoarding a table just to talk.”
What the hell do I care? “I’m not hungry.”
“At least order dessert.” She snatches up a menu and the tremble in her hands doesn’t go unnoticed. What the hell is going on with her?
I concede because I’m a sucker and we sit in silence for several minutes while the waitress brings our coffee. Then I kick back in the chair and cut to the chase.
