Page 44 of Fighting Fate
14
The afternoon sun beams off the steel lettering the signwriters finished pinning to the polished concrete overhead yesterday. Pausing for a second, I take a photo to show Mom and Orla. I’m barely done sending them the message when my phone pings with a notification of a post tag from the London profile of the gym.
“That took you seconds,” I scoff at Jan, looking over my shoulder to see her grinning broadly.
“It’s what I’m paid for.” Coming to stand beside me, Jan stares up at the sign. “People like to see that you’re present and that you are taking a hands-on interest. As great as that interview was this morning, we both know it won’t bring in the masses. The members buy into you, so we need to make sure that they know you’re here.”
“Did you manage to get the reports I asked for?”
“New York came in last night, and it’s waiting in the drive. I suspect LA will be with us later today. Also, Marcus wants a meeting to discuss Paris. If you’re still looking for a location, he thinks he’s found a great place…”
Jan continues taking me through all the things that require my attention or a decision from my end while we walk through the gym to see that the signwriters have already finished inside. The dark brick walls in the cage room are brightened with murals of some of the greatest UFC fighters of all time.
The place is coming together quickly. Only a few weeks ago, Taylor and I were training in a makeshift studio with a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling and a floor mat. It looked more like an amateur space than the state-of-the-art members club the place is transforming into.
“Can you block out Friday for me?” I ask Jan before she heads towards the office.
“Sure, but you have a double session with Taylor in the morning.”
“Block the rest of it out.”
As she walks away, I text Willow to make sure that she’s free too. I’m certain she mentioned she had a long weekend because the set people were doing their thing on Friday, but I want to make doubly sure before I make plans.
Rory: You at the theatre on Friday?
It doesn’t take her long to reply, even though she’s having dinner with her family.
Willow: Nope.
I’m texting back when another message comes through from her.
Willow: Interview went well.
A grin tugs at my lips. I told her not to watch it. It’s nice that we have a bubble outside of our careers, and even though I’m not ready to pop it yet, I like that she watched the interview. It shows she cares. As much as she likes to put on beneath all her hardy exterior, she’s delicate and caring.
After her reaction to the bruise on my lip yesterday, I’d say she’s damn protective too. I’ve never had anyone react the way she did, as though it’s a big deal rather than the slight crack it is.
As I run my fingers over it, I’m certain that she won’t like the reality of the fights—the blood, the violence, and the risks. The deeper we get into this thing between us, the more I worry that she won’t be able to accept it.
I want Willow. Not just as a casual hookup—I want her in ways I have never wanted another woman in my life. But I want to fight too. It’s my entire life. All that I’m good at.
Another message comes through as I stop in front of my father’s mural. Every time I look at it, I feel tantamount proud and sad. Thumbing my phone back to life, I read Willow’s text.
Willow: You should’ve gone for it with Emily since she was practically begging you to knock her out.
A laugh rumbles deep in my chest. Clearly, she watched it all if she’s referencing the swimmer’s attempt to get me to give her “a taste of my skills.” My chest squeezes a little tighter so that my haywire heart feels like it’s too big.
Rory: Thought you said you’d be too busy to watch the show.
Three dots appear and disappear for a long moment. It feels like forever until they reappear again, and she replies.
Willow: Someone had to watch it…you sort of looked good.
Rory: Aww…you’re so cute when you’re being nice. Makes me want to fuck the nasty back into you.
That’s technically wrong. I want to fuck Willow all the damn time. Everything about her is all sass and sex. There isn’t a single thought of her that doesn’t make me want to touch her or kiss her.
Willow: Aren’t you adorable?