TWENTY-NINE Killian #2
“You’ve got no idea how good it feels to hear that, stray.” The pet name for her slips out before I think better of it. I clear my throat and add, “I mean… Jhene.”
“Stray’s still okay,” she says softly. “I like when you call me that. It’s our history together, you know? Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to?”
I give a shrug. “The usual. Training. Working. Trying not to lose my mind.”
“I heard Sharapova retired.”
“Yeah, the bastard finally hung up his gloves. His belt’s up for grabs now. I’ve got a fight coming up against a guy named Big Eddie Nowak. Polish kid from Chicago. A few more braincells than the typical boxer.”
Jhene raises a brow. “Should I be worried?”
“About me?” I scoff. “Never, stray. I’ve taken worse beatings.”
“No need to remind me. Believe me, I remember.”
We fall silent as we circle the garden and then reach the entrance again. It’s not an awkward silence, more contemplative.
There’s still a fuck ton left unsaid between us. A lot of lingering feelings we share.
I rub at the back of my neck and think how best to speak what else is on my mind.
“I’ve thought about you a lot these past few months.”
Her eyes soften behind her glasses as she peers up at me. “I’ve thought about you too. More than I probably should’ve.”
We allow another brief moment of silence, filled only by the chirp of crickets and other insects lurking in the garden brush.
I can see myself reflected in her glasses. In her dark brown eyes.
I want to kiss her so damn bad it hurts.
My hands ache to grab hold of her. The same way my heart aches to make her mine again.
…but she asked for space. She needed time to figure herself out and heal from what Fedorov and the Bratva put her through.
I have to respect that even if it kills me.
I shove my hands into my pockets and take a small step back. Some distance to keep myself in check.
“Jhene, there you are!” Oona interrupts suddenly. The keeper of the house has wandered over with her head on a swivel. “Simone and Monique have been looking for you! You said you’d bring out the cake with them. Come, come, dear! It’s almost time to have Chantal blow out the candles!”
“Oh… right. Sorry, I’ll be right there.” Jhene’s gaze flicks back to me, and she offers a small, apologetic smile.
“Go ahead,” I say. “Don’t want to miss the birthday girl’s big moment.”
I watch her go as she turns and follows Oona back to the party. Then I let out a swear word and tip my head back to stare at the night sky.
Figuring out things between us is going to be harder than I thought.
Our talk in the garden is how we leave the night off. Jhene and I don’t get another chance to speak before the party ends and everybody’s headed home.
I spend the next two days steeped in regret, taking it out on my sparring partners at Malone’s.
By the time my training marathon’s over, I’m walking out the door with throbbing knuckles and sweat gleaming down the back of my neck.
Excellent for my preparation for my match against Big Eddie. Not so excellent for solving the biggest problem on my mind—the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I answer as I’m still a couple blocks from my apartment building.
“Stinky butt,” I say. “Always lovely hearing from you.”
Maeve growls on the other end. “I swear, if you call me that one more time—”
“You’ll what? Tattle tale on me like when we were kids?”
“I was going to say stick my foot up your ass all the way from California. That, or hop on a red eye to be there and do it in person.”
I chuckle at my baby sister’s threat. “Wouldn’t mind having you visit. It has been years. But to what do I owe the threatening phone call?”
“Can’t I call and check up on my big, jerk-face brother? You still behaving yourself?”
“As much as ever. Training hard. Got another fight coming up.”
“That Big Ed guy, right? You know Allen bet on your fight against the Russian? What happened with that? The media’s been so confusing about it.”
“Never you mind, stinky butt,” I say, amused by the thought of her glowering on the other end. “It’s a long, complicated story.”
“Oh god. It’s mob related, isn’t it?”
“I’ll leave that up to your imagination.”
“Is that what you’ll say when I ask you about your girlfriend?”
The sudden pivot catches me off guard, making me stop halfway down the block. “Girlfriend?”
“You heard me. Our mother texted me about it. She said you brought her by our parents’ dump a while back?”
“You actually read one of Ma’s texts?”
“Moment of weakness,” she admits. “Don’t change the subject. Who is she? This the same girl you mentioned kissing earlier in the summer?”
I release an irritated breath, tempted to scowl. “That’s the one. Her name’s Jhene. We were together for a while. Then we broke up.”
“What happened?”
“It’s complicated.” I scrub a hand over my face. “She’d been through a lot. She needed space to figure herself out. So I gave it to her.”
“You sound upset about it.”
“Well… I wasn’t exactly over the fucking moon to let her go.”
“But you’ve let plenty of other women go,” Maeve points out smartly. “I’ve never heard you actually… upset about a woman before.”
“I can’t stop thinking about her,” I confess. “We’ve been broken up almost three damn months, and she’s still on my mind every other second.”
“Three months is space.”
“Maeve.”
“What? It is! Are you going to just let her walk away?”
“She asked for space. I’m trying to respect that.”
“Killian,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “There’s a difference between respecting someone’s boundaries and letting them slip through your fingers because you’re too scared to fight for them. You were born a fighter. It’s what you do.
“You fight for everything else in your life, Kill. You fight in the ring. You fight for the Callahan clan as their boneman. You fought for me and Mom all those years ago, when Dad was...” She trails off, and we both let the silence fill in the blank.
“Now it’s time to fight for the woman you want to be with.
Don’t let her get away or you’ll regret it. ”
…fucking damn it.
I know she’s right as soon as she gives the lecture.
It leaves me speechless as I clutch the phone to my ear and stare at the street up ahead. It’s true that fighting is what I do—I fight for everybody else, but when am I going to fight for what I want?
The relationship I had with Jhene is worth fighting for. I’ve got to step it up and at least try.
“When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You just never listen. Now go get your girl, jerk-face. And call me more often. I worry about you.”
“Alright, alright. No more nagging, stinky butt. I’ll keep you updated.”
We hang up our call, and I walk the last block home thinking over what Maeve has said.
Fight for her. For our relationship.
It’s time I did exactly that.
Sunset Park isn’t my usual stomping grounds, but I show up to the coffee shop Jhene frequents.
It’s a long shot, but I’ve convinced myself it’s necessary if I’m going to see her again.
I consulted Chantal before coming here, and she told me she comes to this place every Tuesday and Thursday after her classes.
Fuck it. Here goes nothing.
I time it down to the hour, pushing through the door once she’s headed inside.
The bell chimes as I enter the small shop. It’s cramped for a guy my size, barely five tables squeezed inside, with exposed brick for walls and a chalkboard menu.
There’s a guy with a man bun seated alone with a laptop and a couple of students huddled over textbooks near the window.
Jhene’s at the table in the back corner, sipping on her drink. She’s scribbling in a spiral notebook, curls pulled atop her head and an oversized sweater slipping off her left shoulder.
I pause for a moment to simply enjoy the sight of her. I’ve always enjoyed the line of concentration that forms between her brows and how she nibbles at her lips when she’s thinking. Sometimes so hard her glasses slip down her nose and she barely notices.
I approach the table and give a clear of my throat. She looks up, eyes widening behind her glasses.
“Killian? What are you... how did you...”
“Funny running into you here,” I say casually. “Dropped by for a coffee and thought I saw a familiar fac—fuck it, I came here on purpose.”
A confused smile forms at the corner of her mouth. “Wait, what? On purpose as in…?”
“To see you,” I say. “Chantal told me you come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Of course she did.”
“Don’t hold it against her. I bribed her with a gift card to Tiffany’s. But I wanted to see you. We never got to finish our conversation at the party…” I trail off, the back of my neck burning. I give another clear of my throat. “Can I sit? Figured maybe we could have a coffee date.”
“A coffee date?”
“Yeah, low stakes. Just the two of us catching up. Seeing if we…”
My sentence goes unfinished but Jhene tilts her head slightly as if understanding exactly what I mean. She can barely hold back the smile that keeps spreading, her eyes glittering.
“Well…” she says slowly. “As a matter of fact, it’s your lucky day, Killer. The guy I was meeting up with canceled.”
My jaw clenches. “He what?”
“Joking,” she says with a small laugh. “There’s no other guy, Killer. Only you. I’d love to have coffee with you.”
“Fucking hell, that’s a relief.”
I claim the chair across from her, and this time there’re no awkward pauses. No uncertainty lingering in the air.
Just two people who still care deeply for each other enjoying a warm drink together.