Jude and Simon stand, their eyes on their mom.
“Love you, sis,” Simon murmurs, his long legs eating up the short distance between us. He wraps me in his arms, hugs me tight and hard. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers in my ear. “Now go get my stubborn-ass brother.”
Tears burn my eyes, further trap my voice. I nod.
“Let me walk you out, Eden,” Jude says, grasping my elbow once Simon lets go. “We have plans to make for how soon we can get you to Reno.”
I glance at Katherine once last time, but her head is bent, and a part of me wants to go to her, embrace her, inhale her familiar perfume. But I, more than anyone, understand about time and space.
Returning my gaze to Jude, who brushes his knuckles over my cheek, I nod again and turn, leaving my family behind.
But I’m walking toward my new family. Knox.
If he’ll have me.
Chapter Fourteen
Knox
Jake finishes wrapping my right hand, and I flex the fingers and wrist while he works on the left. My gloves with the BFC logo sit on the table beside me, ready for me to pull on. I stare ahead, not really seeing the other long, rectangular table along the opposite wall. Since I never fight on a full stomach, it only holds bottles of water and sports drinks, protein bars, fruit, and other small snacks, nothing too heavy. Besides the table I’m sitting on, a couple of chairs bracket a long couch and low table.
Only Jake and I are in the private dressing room, just as I prefer. This week was packed with pre-event activities that required my presence—open workouts at one of the most popular casinos, media scrum, ceremonial weigh-ins, the dedication of the scholarship fund. Promotional shit has never been my favorite, and the ceremony that featured footage of Connor from his past fights and interviews had been bittersweet. Joyful and painful. Thank God I didn’t have to speak too long or there might’ve been an ass-load of memes and GIFs of me breaking down crying.
One thing hits me like a bat over the top of my head as I attended all these events.
I don’t miss it.
At all.
Even though it was my decision to leave Chicago much earlier than planned, I’ve been counting down the weeks, the days until I can return home. To my family. My shop. Tattooing.
Eden.
At first, I tried pushing her out of my mind. But about five minutes after I landed at Reno-Tahoe International Airport, it struck me how futile that was. Like trying not to eat. Or breathe. Or stop your heart from beating.
Jake tapped the back of my left hand and stood. “You good?” he asked, studying me with that scalpel-sharp stare. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I nod, reaching for my gloves.
“Good.” He claps me on the shoulder. “You got about ten minutes. I’ll come back for you.”
I nod again as he turns and heads for the door. A peaceful quiet inhabits the room, and I’m thankful for it. Jumping off the table, I pace the floor, concentrating on the fight ahead. Most fighters would tell you preparation starts in the mind, and I agree. I envision moves, possible scenarios that could happen, how I’ll handle them. A calm pours through me. Yeah, I’m ready.
I’m stronger than I’ve ever been. Focused. Rested. I haven’t always been able to say that. But I did keep my promise to Eden. After the first two nights here without sleep, I hit the internet and found a therapist. I didn’t say much, but even the little bit I did loosened the release valve. Enough for me to sleep without jerking awake with nightmares. So three days later, I returned. Talked some more. Slept some more. When I return to Chicago, I plan to continue seeing a counselor, because Eden can’t be my security blanket. She was right; I need to go after my own healing.
A loud knock on the door echoes in the room, and I’m already grinning before it cracks open. Jude and Simon have never missed a fight, and they were supposed to land two hours ago. Damn, I missed them.
“It’s about time you got—”
Fuck. The air snags in my lungs. No, my lungs stop working altogether. My body freezes, the same temperature as the cold air cycling through the arena’s conditioning system. Everything in me goes still. Except my heart. That beats so hard, so fast my chest should’ve been rising and falling with it.
Eden.
Not Jude or Simon.
Eden stands in the doorway.
“Hey,” she greets me softly. “Can I come in? I know it’s right before you’re about to go out there…” Her fingers tangle in front of her, and her feet are in third position.
