Chapter 19
I nip home and swap the bike for my car, heading straight to the sandwich shop.
I’m not proud of my actions, but I feel kinda smug when Dickhead has to serve me.
His face is tense, his smile fake as he thanks me for my order.
I can feel the smirk across my face, thinking I’ve won; a king who’d found his reason to live.
Scott is the prize, but fucking over Derren in the process is priceless.
I grab some coffee and pastries and get Scott’s favourite sandwich, wondering whether Dickhead knows it’s Scott’s favourite or if he’s oblivious.
I feel fucking amazing. Looking over at his beautiful face this morning made me not want to fuck this up.
Refusing to be the reason this doesn’t work.
I realise I need this. Crave it. I want to be with him.
Last night was amazing. How the hell did I get so lucky?
My smile could power the city as I pull up to the house. I stride over to the door, let myself in and jog straight up to Scott’s room. I push the door open, grinning as I walk in. “Morning, sunshine.”
My face drops before the realisation hits that he’s not here.
I step onto the landing, but the bathroom door is slightly open, and he’s not in there, either.
I head downstairs, checking every room, but he’s nowhere to be found.
My fingers fumble in my pocket, snatching out my phone.
Finally, I place the coffee and pastries on the kitchen table, and I text Scott.
Killian: Hey beautiful, where did you go?
I wait for a reply, but nothing. I pull out the chair and sit at the table.
Killian: Hey Scott, it’s me. I’m at yours, where are you?
Nothing. I wait a little longer and try calling. It rings out and goes to voicemail. I dial again and again. Sending text after text.
Killian: Where are you? I need to see you.
Killian: Did I do something wrong? Are you okay? Please reply.
Killian: Scott just let me know you’re okay
Killian: Scott please
I get nothing, getting more and more frustrated.
Angry, even. Hurt and maybe a little used.
But mostly I am confused. He must have waited for me to leave before rushing out himself.
I keep blowing up his phone, but I get no reply.
I head home, grab my gym gear, and make my way to Jerry’s to take my frustrations out on the bag.
I need to get ready for my next fight, which is coming up soon, and this pent-up hurt and anger are all the fuel I need.
When I pull up at the gym, I try to get in touch with Scott again, and still get no reply. I toss my phone into the centre console and head inside. My fists clench at my sides, welcoming the distraction. But mostly, I don’t need to see that he isn’t replying.
“Yo, Killer,” Jerry yells as I walk inside. I give him my best fake “I’m great” smile and head on over. “You good, kid?”
“Yeah, I just need to get ready for the fight.”
“Great, I’ve got a new guy who needs breaking in. I think he’ll be great for sparring.”
After nodding in acknowledgement, offering a tight-lipped smile at him, I head to the cage. I toss my bag down, pull my straps from it, and get wrapped up and warmed up. I stretch and do a little cardio. Jerry passes me the pads, so I can put the new guy through his paces.
My body glistens with sweat as we go a few rounds, and I push it and push him, probably harder than I should.
But right now, I’m lashing out, and I just want someone to hurt as much as I am.
Unfortunately for him, he’s the one in my crosshairs.
My emotional state isn’t where it should be right now, and he gets a couple of lucky shots while I’m in my own head.
It’s a wake-up call. He could have quite easily rung my bell.
I take a minute to calm myself, take a drink, and splash some water over my head.
I close my eyes and push all thoughts of Scott out of my head for now.
I crack my neck before stepping back into the cage.
Focused, I put my game face on, and I let the guy know why they call me Killer.
I’ve clearly misled him so far; now I introduce him to the real me.
When I step back out of the cage, I’m covered in sweat and regret. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I know better than that. If this were fight night, I could have thrown everything away. I have a lot riding on this next fight. I can’t afford to get distracted, not now I’ve come too far.
“You good, kid?”
“Yeah, Jerry, I’m good.”
“You almost tanked the first half. Killian, if you’re not gonna be ready for the fight, you need to pull out.”
“I’m good, honestly. A mishap that won’t be repeated. I’ve got this.”
He nods, but eyes me warily, and I know I need to do better. I need to be better.
While I try to regain my composure, I pack my stuff and head out to the car.
I sit in it, gripping the steering wheel.
I rest my head against the headrest and breathe, taking my time to rethink today and last night.
After retrieving my phone from the centre console, I put it on speaker and dial.
His voice spills out, filling the car. I gasp and sit up.
“I’m busy, Killian. What’s the matter?” He sounds cold, blunt, and monotone.
“Hey, I just wondered where you were. I came back this morning, and you were gone.” I pause, waiting.
“Look, Killian, let’s not read too much into it, okay? We both know it was a bit of fun. It doesn’t have to be anything else.”
What the fuck? “Scott. Please, can we talk?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Killian. It doesn’t have to be weird. I had a great time. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Scott, wait, Scott!” Slamming my hands against the steering wheel, I slump in the seat.
What the fuck just happened? Finally, I found something that could be real.
I actually get something important. Someone I can see myself wanting to be better for, not knowing when the shift happened between us, but he’s it for me. I need him.
I start the car and drive home in a daze, before showering and heading back out.
I drive straight to Scott’s. Pacing, I contemplate knocking, standing on the doorstep for far too long before I pull my key out.
I slide it into the lock, but it won’t go all the way in.
I jiggle it, knock, and ring the bell. No answer.
Why can’t I get in?
Frustration fills me, mixed with something like dread, while I stare in through the window.
The living room is in darkness. After making my way to the door again, I push, trying to force my key into the lock.
I wiggle it, kicking the bottom of the door in anger and exasperation.
Huffing out, I turn, lean against the door, sliding down it until my ass hits the ground, and my head drops back against it.
Unsure how long I sit there, the cold seeps into my bones, but I can’t bear to leave.
Unable to bring myself to realise it meant nothing to him.
I meant nothing to him. I blow out a breath.
Where do we go from here? How do I navigate this, and can we move forward?
Can I make it right? My knees and back creak as I stand from the cold floor and dust myself off.
I trudge down the path to my car, turning and staring at the house cloaked in darkness.
My heart sinks as I get in my car. The drive home is silent apart from my heart pounding in my ears and thudding out of my chest. I don’t think. I daren’t.