Until We're More

by Cindi Madsen

  “Looks like we’re going back to Denver, which is great, since it’s a really…” Sniff. “Good.” Sniff. “Job. One I’ve worked my ass off to get.” I rubbed the spot between George’s ears with my thumb. “I hope you’re cool with, like, four kitty brothers and sisters, because I think Liam’s ruined me for any other guy. Pretty sure he ruined me that day I walked up to him when I was twelve years old. You know, all this time I thought being bold was paying off, and now I think it’s just bullshit. You say what you want and it doesn’t matter, because unless other people agree—unless they want you back…” Holy crap, it hurt so much, every single inch of me throbbing and aching with a vengeance, but I forced myself to finish, figuring I might as well embrace the crazy-cat-lady lifestyle. “All you did was make a fool of yourself.”

  I’d thought I could have it all, and now I’d lost everything. Our friendship would never be the same. I couldn’t simply call him up to chat. The next time I came into town, I probably wouldn’t even call him at all.

  That thought sent the misery already coursing through me into gushing range.

  I hadn’t a clue where to go from here. I considered calling Brooklyn, but while I knew she’d be on my side as much as she could, she was Liam’s sister. One way or another that would mess with them, and I couldn’t see her without thinking about how much my world revolved around her brother anyway, and ugh. Everything was such a mess, just the way I’d worried it would be when I first tried to talk myself out of crossing lines.

  Guess it was time to return to the house I’d lived in for the second part of my childhood, the thing I should’ve done instead of impetuously moving in with my best friend.

  Only the thought of never having experienced those kisses, those heated nights between the sheets…that sent a different kind of ache through me. Then it hit me that I’d never have that with Liam again, and a fresh wave of tears rose to my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

  He’d gotten so mad that I had trouble believing anyone truly wanted me after the way my family treated me, but when it came down to it, he didn’t want me, either. Not the same way I wanted him.

  I just wanted him to want me. I wanted to be enough.

  I was going to allow myself to wallow for a day, but then I’d get back up. No more following Liam Roth around like a puppy. I’d finish off my last week here and then I’d go back and become the best damn associate brand manager ever.

  No more being overly romantic or delusional for me.

  …

  Despite my best attempts to prep and steel myself, it still hurt to walk into the training center Tuesday morning. To see the cage and the fighters, and for none of them to be Liam, although it’d also send pain through me if one of them were.

  After everything that’d happened, visiting the Team Domination gym would be a special kind of torture. But the fact that this wasn’t that gym, with fighters I recognized, was almost worse.

  It’d been three days.

  Three awful, never-ending days.

  I’d given myself a day to wallow, but I’d accidentally taken two. During that time, I’d eaten more junk food in a day than Liam had eaten all year. At an especially low point, I’d pulled out my phone and stared at the pictures I’d taken this past month, from the one of Liam and me on the beach wearing virtual flower crowns to the one with the hearts over our heads to the picture of us in a permanent lip-lock.

  Somehow the kissing one I’d blindly snapped had turned out perfect, and now every time I looked at it—which I was totally going to stop doing—it perfectly ripped my heart out. As much as I wanted to be okay, I was back to faking it till I made it, and I honestly wasn’t completely sure I was going to make it.

  Don’t cry. You’re in a room full of fighters and you don’t want to be the girl crying in the gym. For the first time in my life, I understood my mom a little too well. How she could just decide to stop fighting. Whether it was giving up on finding a job that was satisfying but steady or working to have a good relationship with her husband. Or her daughter, for that matter.

  Trying and caring left you so open and vulnerable, especially when other people were thrown into the mix. The thought of getting my heart beat up this badly ever again made it tempting to curl into my own personal shell and never come out again.

  But I wouldn’t let myself do that. I couldn’t spiral and lose my purpose, regardless of how much more effort life in general took these days. Deep breath in, deep breath out, and then I forced one foot in front of the other while telling myself I could make it, even as I questioned why I’d ever agreed to this meeting.

  The former fighter I’d come to meet with stepped into my path, a wide smile on his face. “Chelsea.” Carlos extended his hand, all formal-like. “Thanks for coming.”

  The smile I attempted in return didn’t feel quite right, but at least I managed to keep the corners propped up for a second or two. “Sure thing. How are the tweaks I helped you make on your social media accounts working out? The turnout seemed really good for Finn’s fight.”

  “Better than any we’ve had in a long time, and I have you and Brooklyn to thank for that. Which is why I wanted to talk to you before you left town.” Carlos started walking, and I assumed that meant I was supposed to follow.

  He stepped inside an office, gestured at the chair across from the desk, and then settled into his own chair. “We need more fresh ideas—things to get more people to more fights.”

  “Oh.” Since he’d seemed super confused about online ads when I’d suggested them and I had promised to show him how to set them up himself later, I’d been expecting a request along those lines. I figured I’d take him through the process and then go back home and try not to cry for a few hours, because that was my life right now. “Well, after my impromptu stint as a ring girl, I was actually thinking that you guys could do something like that. Maybe have an open spot once in a while for a so-called ‘amateur ring girl’ night. Filling in and experiencing that sense of camaraderie in the air was a total rush, not to mention more empowering than I thought it would be.”

  Sure, part of the adrenaline had been from the heat in Liam’s eyes and the buoying hope that whispered he was attracted to me… The vise around my heart tightened, the misery that constantly ebbed and flowed pouring faster once again. I clung to the theory that someday it wouldn’t hurt. That it’d eventually heal all the way.

  Most of the way.

  The point was, the first time around the cage was hard, but by the third round, I felt confident strutting my stuff. “It was a nice ego boost, and I think more women could use that. Maybe some would just want the attention, but it also might bring people who wouldn’t ordinarily attend. They’d be there to support their friends and family, and then of course they’d fall in love with the sport, because how couldn’t you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Carlo said, adding a finger-gun snap.

  I didn’t think I’d ever been finger-gunned, and I found it oddly satisfying, as well as inspiring. “Then you should take it a step further and have a night where some of the fighters step into the female fights as ring boys—gets both more guys and girls there.”

  Carlos nodded as he scribbled in his notebook, then he smacked down his pen and grinned at me. “See? That’s what I’m talking about! We tested out a local marketing firm, and I could tell they were trying, but they just didn’t get the sport. I need someone who has the marketing knowhow, has great ideas, and understands the world.”

  “I could ask around,” I said. “See if maybe I could find someone who’d work out better for you.”

  He cocked his head and studied me. “I think you’re missing my point. I already found someone who’s perfect for the job, which is why I called a meeting with her.”

  Wait. Was he saying…?

  “Me?” I pointed a finger at my chest, as if he’d need the clarification. Evidently, I did.

  He nodded and huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, you. I don’t expect yo
u to give me all the ideas for free. I want to hire you.”

  “But I’m about to accept another position. Technically, I already accepted it.”

  “Technically,” he said, a teasing note in his tone, “I’m willing to make a competitive offer.”

  I blinked as he detailed the salary and the benefits. He went slightly above what the position in Denver would pay, which would be eaten up by the higher living expenses here, but still. Hadn’t I wished more than once that I could choose which accounts I worked on? That I could work more with people I liked and see that what I did made a difference?

  “I’m supposed to leave for Colorado this weekend,” I said, because this was too much, and I hadn’t planned for it, and I didn’t know what to say. The Denver office was giving me a couple days to resettle, and then one week from tomorrow, I was supposed to move into my new office and hit the ground running.

  “What if you didn’t? What if you stayed?”

  My heart gave an involuntary squeeze. Those were the words I’d wanted Liam to say. Instead I heard them from one of his friends, a guy who’d offered me a job in the world Liam thought I couldn’t handle. But staying meant I’d be in the same city Liam was, knowing he was mere miles away but that I still couldn’t have him… That I hadn’t been enough, and he wasn’t willing to even try…

  The flow of misery increased until my lungs were so bound in it that I had to force them to take in oxygen. That was before I even factored in living in the same city as my mom—three days at the house with her and I was ready to pull my hair out.

  I’m stronger now.

  Just maybe not strong enough to see Liam without falling apart.

  “Did Liam put you up to this?” Part of me wanted Carlos to say yes, because it would mean that Liam did want me here, and another part of me would be offended. I could get my own jobs.

  “Liam has nothing to do with this,” Carlos said. “He doesn’t know, and it’s up to you if you want to talk to him before taking the job, but just take it. We’d love to work with you. I think you can take our events to the next level.”

  I reached up and fiddled with my earring. “It’s a big change from what I’ve been doing. Honestly, I think it’d be an exciting change, one I’d be good at.” That came out without having to think about overselling myself or being bold and assertive, because it was true. I did know this world. I knew what happened behind the scenes and in the cage and most everything in between. I’d gone from a girl who would’ve never watched a fight if I hadn’t moved next door to the Roths to one who now paid money to watch fights from my living room.

  Sure, feeling that connection to Liam factored into it, so I could call him afterward and discuss the fights with him, but this world had become part of me along the way. And if I accepted this job, Liam’s fight would be the next big event I’d help promote. I wanted that for him—to have the seats filled and for everyone to discover a new champion was going to be crowned. Or belted or whatever.

  But it’d hurt so damn badly for him to be close enough to touch without being able to—to see women hitting on him and know he wasn’t mine in that way anymore—and sometimes it felt like missing him would send me to my knees and there’d be no getting back up.

  “You’ve got my number,” Carlos said. “Think it over and give me a call.”

  After promising I would be in touch, I drove back to Mom and Jesse’s house. Funny how I never called it home, whereas Liam’s place I’d called home without thinking.

  None of those thoughts.

  Of course, with his childhood home looming out my passenger side window, all those memories mixing in, it was impossible to not think about him.

  I need to get away from here. For my sanity, and so my heart could heal.

  Call me a romantic, but I had to hold on to the hope that someday my prince would come. I wanted that kind of love, where I was crazy about him, and he was crazy about me, and we’d go all in and—over-romanticized as it may be—we’d have our happily ever after.

  If only I could stop thinking about how, after what I had with Liam, my only chance at attaining something close to that would be to settle.

  Which just proved once again that I needed to get as far away from here as possible.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Liam

  “Oh my gosh, I thought you were grumpy before, but you’re taking it to a whole new level. You’re downright unbearable to be around now.”

  I leveled my gaze on my sister, who crossed her arms and glared right back. Ever since she’d called me on “biting her head off” because I missed Chelsea several months ago, I’d tried to keep my grouchiness on the inside.

  With Chelsea no longer living at my apartment, her stuff gone by the time I came home Monday night, and her not bothering to answer or return my calls, no amount of smothering could hide my grumpy.

  Nothing felt right, and while I told myself that I’d adjusted before, so I could adjust again, I was starting to doubt that I’d ever adjusted in the first place. Deep down, I knew I’d never feel okay again, either.

  Since there was nothing for it, I continued my climb into the big caged-off rectangle, where Finn was waiting to take me through striking drills.

  Brooklyn came right into the cage behind me, earning a few looks from the other pairs inside. Once they saw the deadly expression on her face, they scooted farther away, giving us a wide berth and returning their focus to their training.

  I tried to do the same, lifting my fists in front of my face as I circled Finn.

  “Finn, give me the gloves.” Brooklyn held her hand out for them. “I’d like to take a few swings at him. Maybe I can knock some sense into him, since I’m starting to doubt he has any.”

  Finn dropped his arms and glanced from me to our sister. I shrugged. She couldn’t beat me up any more than I’d beat up myself. Not that she couldn’t throw a solid punch, but I’d block. Maybe I shouldn’t block.

  Clearly tuning everything out and focusing on training and that alone wasn’t working very well, and that was before Brooklyn decided to confront me about losing Chelsea. It was all I could think about every fucking second of every fucking day since she walked out of my apartment.

  I lowered my fists and turned to my sister. “I’m trying to do what’s best for her. Please don’t tell me to be selfish because I already want to do that. You think I don’t realize what I lost? I’m well aware.”

  “I think you’re going to be an old man living with regrets.”

  “Better me than her,” I shot back, and both of my siblings appeared taken aback.

  Brooklyn softened her voice and put her hand on my shoulder. “Did you ever think that instead of assuming you know what’s best for her, you should let her decide?”

  My lungs deflated, the way they’d been frequently doing, which made it fucking hard to train. To breathe. To do any damn thing. I’d done the last thing I’d wanted to do—I’d hurt Chelsea and ruined our friendship, doing the kind of damage that couldn’t be undone. “It’s too late.”

  “Not yet. But in a couple days, she’s going to leave, and then it might be. You have to do something—tell her exactly how you feel and what you want, and that it’s her. We all can see that.” My sister arched her eyebrows at Finn, urging him to chime in.

  “You guys are great together,” Finn said. “I know I gave you shit about it, but it was nice to see you so happy. You need more of that to deal with the stress in your life, and I’m not just saying that because I’m literally your punching bag sometimes.” He swung, sending an easy right hook into my shoulder. “She’s good for you.”

  Yeah, but I worried I wasn’t good for her, and I definitely wouldn’t be if I asked her to give up her promotion for me.

  Brooklyn squeezed my arm. “Please tell me you’ll think about it.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, since it might give me five minutes off from her talking about Chelsea. I ached all the time, no matter what I did, an internal ache
that had nothing to do with my gruesome workouts. And gruesome had taken on a new extreme meaning this past week—again and again, I pushed my body to the brink, where survival instincts took over and my brain didn’t have the option of thinking about anything but how to keep myself alive.

  Even though I’d promised as asked, Brooklyn’s shoulders deflated, so apparently my poker face was as shit as the rest of my life. “I give up,” she said. “The reports are in Dad’s office. I was going to have Chelsea help me with advertising for the new class, but now I feel like I can’t do that. Actually, I feel like I can’t even talk to her at all now, which sucks. Do you know how many girlfriends I have?” My sister showed more emotion than the rest of our family, but she was still on the stoic side, so when her eyes went glossy and her voice cracked, I realized how invested she’d become. “You’re not the only one who’s losing her.”

  That hit harder than her fists ever could. “You can still call her—I’m sure she’ll talk to you. If you see her before she leaves…” My throat tightened. “Just tell her good luck on her new job.”

  Brooklyn threw up her hands in exasperation and stormed out of the cage, slamming the door behind her.

  I lifted my fists under my eyes, beyond ready to get on with my workout, only Finn didn’t lift his arms.

  “Sometimes girls are a distraction, but when the right one comes along, it’s more of a distraction to not be with her. Just look at Tautolo and how hard a time we’ve had getting him to focus since he arrived—all he keeps talking about is his girlfriend in L.A. Shane was the same way when he and Brooklyn were apart. And even you, the immovable Liam Roth, have a weakness. Her name is Chelsea, and without her, you’re all bark, no heart. And you need heart to be the best fighter. To win a belt.”

  I clenched my jaw against the flow of overwhelming emotions that rushed through me at her name. “Like I said before, it’s not about me and what I want.”

  The door to the cage opened with a squeal, and Dad stepped inside. “How about I take over striking drills for a bit?”