42. HUNTER
42
“ I t’s time to get out there, Hunter.” My trainer pins me down with an impatient glare.
“Not fucking yet!”
I told him he should get her on the phone before the match thirty minutes ago. He didn’t listen. Now he can wait.
Hearing the dial tone in my ear, I wait, squatted against the wall in the locker room until it’s already time to get into the cage. Come on, pick up, pick up. When it goes to voicemail for the third time, I clench my jaw in frustration before sending her a text.
HUNTER : Where you at, Charls?
CHARLS : I’m in the shower.
HUNTER : Way to get me all riled up.
CHARLS : Stop flirting with me. Have a good fight.
HUNTER : No wait! I need to hear your voice.
My heart relaxes a little when she finally calls me back, the sound of water clashing against the tiles in the background.
“What round?” she asks.
“Are you watching?” I don’t expect her to. I never expected her to, but knowing that she’s watching me, always lit a fire to my ass. I like pretending she’s with me, just like she was for most of my fights in high school.
“Of course. Why do you think I’m having a shower now ?”
“So you can put visuals in my head that spark me alive?”
“Stop flirting with me, Hunt.” She sings out the words, putting a smile on my face.
“Fine.” I bite my lip, thinking about water cascading all over Charlotte’s naked body. Streaming down her curves, glistening her skin with temptation. Her wet hair…
“Hunter?” her call out cuts my daydream short, and I blink at the ceiling to pull myself back.
Fucking hell.
“Yeah?”
“You better win.”
“I always win.”
“Cocky asshole.”
“I’m your asshole.”
She sighs, loud enough to be audible over the noise of the shower. It’s one I can feel in my bones, aching, because I can see the black cloud moving in from a mile away.
“Not anymore, Hunt.” There it is.
“Hunt, what are you doing? Come on, you need to move. Now. ” Jason catches my attention when he waltzes in the dressing room with big strides. Impatience pinches his face, and I get to my feet, grunting.
“I have to go.”
“Go get ’em.”
“Promise you’ll watch?”
“I promise.” Her smile is audible, igniting one of my own, before we end the call. I hand Jason my phone for safekeeping.
“Charlotte?” He hands me a bottle of water, and I take a small sip out of it.
“Yeah.”
“You guys still talking?”
“Now and then.” Definitely not as much as I’d want us to be. We both do our best, but we seem to have a hard time catching each other at the right time. And when we do? The conversations are different, more strained. Like there isn’t just a giant elephant in the room; no, there’s a whole fucking herd .
“You cool with that?”
My gaze locks with his as I go over his words.
Am I cool with that?
No.
But I can’t seem to fix it. As easy as our relationship was back home, is as difficult as our relationship is now that we have a thousand miles between us, and neither of us knows what to do about it. We try to stay connected, but we’re growing apart.
“Hansen, it’s fucking time!” Gina pops her head in the door with a glare that speaks as loud as her telling me she’ll rip my balls off if I don’t walk out there within the next five minutes before she disappears again and her heels tap away down the hallway.
“Nothing I can do about it.” I shrug, getting up and walking past him, out of the room. “Showtime.”