“A portion of the proceeds will be donated to a scholarship in Connor’s name. It’s specifically for kids from low-income backgrounds who couldn’t afford college otherwise, and whose dream is to enter MMA,” I add. Katherine’s attention swings to me, and I meet it without wavering. Yeah, I hadn’t wanted to hear anything about this fund when Knox had first told me. But I’d ended up searching the BFC’s website for more information on the proposed scholarship and reading more about it. The tribute they’d posted to Connor at the bottom had been beautiful and had drawn tears to my eyes. “He would’ve loved knowing this is his legacy.”
But it’s as if I were speaking in another language. Her blue eyes narrow, and her mouth firms into a hard, grim line.
“Are you telling me he rejoined that sport after it took his brother’s life?” she demands, voice low, dark, and nearly trembling with anger.
“Katherine…” I murmur.
“No,” she cuts me off, voice sharp. “Don’t you dare defend him. How could he do this?”
Her question reverberates in the room, and my jaw clenches, swallowing down a barrage of words that shove and push at my throat.
How would Katherine react if I relayed Knox’s second admission to her? Would she heap more vitriol on him, seeing as she already blamed Knox for introducing Connor to the sport that had killed him?
I can’t lie; his confession stunned me. Not because Knox didn’t stop Connor’s match when he had the opportunity. No, contrary to what Knox believed, there’s no way in hell Connor wouldn’t have marched into that Octagon anyway. We’d talked about it many times leading up to it. He’d been determined, even if Knox didn’t approve. Yeah, I’ve known all this time that Knox hadn’t agreed with Connor fighting this particular match. Connor had been upset that his older brother hadn’t had confidence in him. I’d tried to explain that hadn’t been the case, but Connor had a lot to prove to the BFC, the reporters, the fans, and more importantly, his brother.
So, yes, that’s why I’d been struck speechless when Knox had dropped his bombshell—that he’d been walking around for two years with that enormous burden of guilt and blame on his massive shoulders for nothing. AndGod, those shoulders were indeed massive, so I can just imagine the amount of pain he’s been carrying. I wanted to cry for him, but I’d been stunned, frozen. And by the time I could force my vocal cords to speak, he’d already left.
And didn’t return. Not to my apartment or the shop.
He left without me telling him I didn’t blame him, too quickly for me to catch up to him to deliver that message. And he hasn’t answered or returned any of my phone calls since. I wanted to assure him that in no way did I hold him at fault. That my lack of reaction hadn’t been due to resentment but shock. He’d just confessed the burden he’d been carrying around for two years, admitted he’d loved me, then followed it up with talk of my being unhealthy for him. With all that hitting me at once, I’d been confused, paralyzed. And by the time I’d fought through the surprise, he’d left.
Now, sitting at his mother’s table with her bitterness damn near humming in the air, I understand why he didn’t wait. Because of the venom that emanated from his mother. Since Connor’s death, Knox had been the sacrificial lamb in this family. He’d been made to feel an outsider, an interloper by his own mother. So, if Katherine felt that way, how could he possibly believe I wouldn’t?
Dismay slides into my chest, and I could kick myself for my slow reaction.
I would never make you choose, Eden.
The words from that morning in my kitchen bounce off the walls of my skull, gaining volume and speed. Why hadn’t I seen it then?Howhadn’t I seen it?
He wouldn’t make me choose because he didn’t believe I would pick him. He was convinced he would always come in second place with me—to his family, to Connor.
And why wouldn’t he assume that? Out of my fear of losing, I hadn’t realized all that I could gain.WhoI could gain.
Oh Christ.
“Mom, calm down,” Jude tries to soothe his mother. “It’s just one match. He’s not going back to fighting full-time.”
“Honey,” Dan murmurs, setting a comforting hand on her arm. “If it’s for a scholarship honoring Connor…”
“What good is that?” she demands, and I’m reminded of my own caustic response with Knox. And am ashamed. “My boy isn’t here. Is it going to bring him back? I don’t care about anyone else’s son when mine is in the ground.” Her voice cracks, and the grief echoes in my chest. Dan stands and reaches for her, but she vehemently shakes her head, pressing her open palm to his chest. Resignation crosses his face before he sinks back down into his chair. Her gaze, damp yet hot with anger, scans the table, lighting on Jude, Simon, and me. “Don’t any of you dare defend this to me. It’s unforgivable. Connor isn’t here because of that damn sport. A sport Knox introduced him to. It’s his fault—”
“Stop it,” I whisper.
“Selfish. He’s only thinking of himself,” she continues in her tirade. “No son of mine—”
“Stop it.”
She breaks off, blinks, stares at me. Her fingers flutter to her throat, and a moment later, she frowns.
“Eden, what’s…” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. This has to be upsetting for you, honey. I’m sorry…”
“Yes, it’s upsetting,” I say, anger and, yes, fear swirling in my chest in a thick, cloying soup. “Hearing you talk about your son like that is very upsetting. And hurtful. And wrong,” I rasp.
Her brows furrow as if she’s confused that I’m defending Knox. “Eden,” she whispers.
“No,” I state, sitting back in my chair, straightening my shoulders. I drag in a breath, and it shudders out of my lungs, but I push past the terrible fear of causing her pain, of losing her love. “You’re wrong. Wrong to blame Knox for Connor’s death. For Connor’s decisions.”
“Eden.” Dan clears his throat. “I don’t think this is the proper time to discuss this. Not now.”
