Blue
: Chapter 17

WITH LAST NIGHT pushed to the back of my mind and my day focused on work-based learning, the evening came fast. I stood with Olivia in front of the makeshift stage. It was weigh day, and although we’d captured images of The Lagoon’s fighters’ official weigh-in this morning, Olivia said this set-up was what made the difference between an average image and an Instagram-able post.

Music played through the room, which in turn, blurred the noise of the lively audience behind us. All the while, high-tech cameras broadcast the stage for their live streams.

The Lagoon was one night away from its prestigious fight night. Walker had been in full work mode. And Noah, every time I’d seen him, was either dabbling in business or pleasure. Though he was mostly flirting with the octagon girls in between running every errand imaginable for his brother. It seemed he did everything outside of the legalities, and he often did it all while attesting for The Lagoon’s fighters the same way a coach would. Currently, he stood on the edge of the sponsorship stage, handing out bottles of blue liquid to every fighter which passed him.

“I thought you were going to stay put in your office for this one,” I said to Walker as he came to stand at my side, primed in one of his many designer suits. I wasn’t sure what version of him I enjoyed best.

This one.

The man flushed from a workout.

Or the man I had last night, in his white T-shirt and grey sweats.

“Things change.”

“They do.” I frowned. They had last night when something transpired between us during our shower. It never led to another sexual encounter, despite our bodies desperate for a second release. And we didn’t need to speak about what transpired exactly to know something had. I was sure we both felt it more than we each let on, and I knew Walker wouldn’t voice it, regardless. He’d probably fight it until he couldn’t anymore. Until he was forced to tell me how he truly felt without using my age or father as an excuse.

We both watched the stage as the announcer, once again, through his microphone, called out the names of each undercard fighter and their opposition.

“Hudson’s up soon,” Walker told me as a fighter from the opposing team walked across the stage and stepped onto the scales. I knew this already, but I was under the impression he just wanted to speak to me.

From beside me, Olivia moved her camera away from her face to glance at us. Intrigue shone in her eyes, likely wondering why I’d stopped working, but without questioning me, she continued snapping photographs with her camera pointed towards the stage.

I smiled up at Walker and nodded encouragingly. “Hudson looks good, considering his injury. Noah said he’s worked hard.”

We already knew he’d made weight after his official weigh-in this morning, and he was back fighting fit, ready for fight night. The ceremonial weigh-in was more for the media and the fans than anybody else.

Walker slid his hands into his pockets, though he stood close enough for our arms to be touching. Something like jealousy stirred in my gut when I noticed his eyes were on the array of beautiful octagon girls dressed in tight black and white shorts and push-up bras.

“And you say I wear little clothes,” I attempted to joke, speaking quietly up at him over my shoulder. I regretted it as soon as I’d said it. But maybe he’d missed it with the noise of the crowd howling around us.

He turned his head back to me, his eyes piercing into my own. “What are you on about?”

Okay, so he heard me. I had no choice but to follow through.

“The girls,” I said, a little embarrassed. “Until last night, they wore fewer clothes than I ever had in your presence.”

A smirk pulled on the corner of his lips, and then his head was swivelling back to the stage. I don’t know what it was–perhaps the uncertainty of what was happening between us–but I seemed to crave his attention, his acknowledgement, now more than I ever had since I’d been here.

I was itching to discuss things with him and talk through what happened. I was itching to talk about how things were changing between us. But with company around us, and the media at every angle, it wasn’t the time or the place. It was an itch I couldn’t scratch, not while surrounded.

“How much did Hudson have to lose to make weight?” I found myself asking when Olivia glanced another look at the two of us.

“He had five days to shed twenty pounds.”

“No way.”

My brows creased as I studied his face for any sign of a lie. But all I could take note of was the heaviness under his eyes and the contradictory excitement in his irises.

“I can feel you looking at me, Blue,” he said dryly. “What’s on your mind?”

It’s you, I wanted to say. But… “I’m just thinking, how is that even possible? There were girls in my school who would kill for that kind of weight loss in that little time.”

He flared his nostrils and turned to look at me, dropping his line of sight to my figure. My sleeveless crop top was tight against my chest, and my leather pants were taut against my waist, showing just a hint of tanned skin above them.

I’d showered with him last night. I’d felt his naked skin against my own. But he hadn’t once looked at me in the way he was now–like he’d stop at nothing to protect me.

Not even my father had looked at me that way. No matter how many times he believed I was at breaking point.

It was different.

A look that said he wanted to take care of me, not that he should.

“Were you one of those girls?”

“No,” I murmured. “Ebony, though…” I let my sentence trail off. Ebony was a fool for the latest fad diets or living off chewing gum and cola to shed pounds she didn’t need to shed.

He lowered his lips to my ear. “Your body is unreal,” he rasped. “It took everything in me last night to not take further advantage of it.”

Time passed by before he lifted his head and turned back to the stage and then back to me in quick succession. My heart was wild, my cheeks flushing pink as I clenched my thighs together.

He cleared his throat knowingly. “The fighters dehydrate themselves to lose most of their weight. It’s about manipulating water and sodium levels. Putting your body in overdrive to flush the weight off.”

Tucking my hair behind my ear and re-focusing on the importance of the conversation, I eyed a bottle of blue liquid that a fighter took from Noah. Walker followed my line of sight, and I wondered how the hell he managed to keep so composed after the things he had just said to me. Was he not hard from thinking of all the ways he could take advantage of me? Thinking of all the ways I’d let him?

“Liquid electrolytes.”

“Those help put it back on after making weight?” I tried to take a leaf out of his book, feigning his careless stature, though the images in my mind were so far from careless.

He nodded. “One litre an hour until bedtime, plus a good portion of protein will give them a competitive advantage.” Turning again to the stage, he murmured, “Hudson’s up.”

I’d been so invested in Walker, I’d barely taken any notice of the undercards or the replacement backup fighter I overheard Noah mention this morning. I mumbled a “Sorry” to Olivia, who still stood a small distance away. She smiled, shaking her head. I’m sure she was confused why the boss was giving me his attention when sports reporters were behind us desperate for it.

I turned around to look at them, noticing some eyes on us and some on the stage. Then, all at once, the announcer’s voice robbed my attention, and the audience’s noise fell behind me as I resumed my previous position.

“The main event takes place in the welterweight division. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s introduce the challenger to the stage… Hudson “Bully Boy” Barnes!”

Walker tipped his chin at me. “You good?”

I rolled my eyes mockingly and told him, “Yep.”

And as I did, his gaze fell to my mouth before he caught himself and looked back to the stage.

My heart hammered.

I wondered if he wanted to kiss me again. I wondered if he thought about the kiss in my room as much as I had. Or…. was he thinking about the roof… about last night?

I forced my head free of those images and tried to concentrate on the stage. Tried being the key word. It was incredibly hard when the man standing beside me brought something out in me which nobody else had ever come close to unravelling. Which I’d never allowed someone to come close enough to me to unravel.

Noah caught my gaze with an amused glare, but I looked away, worried I was wearing my feelings on my face. I had no guise here. Nothing and no one to hide behind that, as if he wasn’t doing maddening things to both my head and my heart.

Rolling my shoulders, I settled my line of sight on Hudson, dressed in an all-black shorts and T-shirt combo. He appeared effortlessly handsome. Clean but rugged. His short brown hair was freshly tapered, and his deep blue eyes seemed to lock onto Olivia’s silver.

Hudson’s posture showed confidence as he stepped onto the scales, but his facial expression gave nothing away. He was the epitome of poised. I wondered if he’d practised that look for times like these or if it came naturally to him. Like a frown came naturally to the gorgeous man beside me.

With one hand, Hudson grabbed the chest of his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, messing up his hair and showcasing every defined muscle in his upper body when the material was stripped bare from his skin. For the first time, I realised he had a tattoo–script inked across his right peck. Though there was too much distance between us for me to read it. The crowd quietened down when he stepped onto the scales, and the announcer’s voice boomed through the surround sound, “Official weight one-seventy!”

Hudson’s, Noah’s, and Walker’s faces remained passive, even as the crowd erupted throughout the room.

I didn’t get a chance to speak to Walker again before the announcer introduced Hudson’s opponent, who happened to be a big deal in the world of martial arts. I still had so much to learn, but it seemed Killian “the Mercenary” Mahoney was the one to beat. Supposedly, he was motivated by money. And big money came by winning.

“Next up, introducing the reigning, defending welterweight champion of the world… Killian “the Mercenary” Mahoney!”

More noise flared from the crowd as Killian stepped onto the stage and headed towards the centre. He’d draped a Welsh flag over his shoulders like a cape and moved with a bounce in his step. He was as handsome as Hudson. His buzzed dark hair showed off his killer cheekbones, and a thin layer of sweat made his skin glow. But it was his grave, honey-coloured eyes and the brazen wink in my direction that warmed my already flushed cheeks. He had a persona about him–the kind that could probably charm his way out of trouble.

Walker noticed Killian’s attention on me, and from my peripheral, I watched him tense.

He removed a hand from his pocket before subtly wrapping his fingers around the back of my neck and under my hair, not caring that we were in a room full of people. People that may or may not come to inaccurate conceptions and judge it for something more, or something less, than what it was. But what was it? What were we? And were we anything? And why did I care less about their judgement of us than I did being a rich man’s daughter?

My chest constricted as he squeezed and leant down to my ear. Hot breath fanned my face, but before any words left his mouth and I could challenge the unexpected marking of what perhaps felt like his territory, he dropped his hand and abruptly stepped away from me, diverting his attention elsewhere.

I followed his line of sight, looking over my shoulder, half expecting to replace a camera in our face. Only to the side of the sports reporters, I spotted a stunning brunette who hadn’t been there before. She looked just how I imagined his usual type to look. Beautiful in the sense of Disney’s Belle being a porn star. A red bodycon dress that matched the shade of her lips. The perfect complexion and just enough botox to be considered natural. She was definitely more his age than I’d ever be. And probably something more than I’d ever amount to.

It wasn’t my business to feel defensive over where he placed his attention. Or on who he gave his attention, no matter how innocent it might’ve been. But I couldn’t help the fact that I did. That I wanted more than he ever gave or had given me. That I wished to explore every piece that made up the jigsaw of who he was. I wanted him all for myself.

Was it too much to ask for him to want me back?

He walked towards her, and the woman smiled at something he said while glaring at me over his shoulder.

“Who’s that?” I found myself asking as Olivia stepped up beside me. Probably as curious as me.

“She looks familiar.” She tilted her head to the side. “But I’m not sure. I can’t place her. Could she be his girlfriend?”

The two words made my stomach drop.

“He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

Does he?

He wouldn’t have done what he did with me last night if he had a girlfriend.

Still, something about the brunette made me feel uneasy, and I wanted to follow Walker over there and introduce myself as if I was more than just the daughter of the less than iconic James Sterling. Though embarrassing myself wasn’t an option. Especially when I had absolutely no claim to him whatsoever. So what we’d made each other come? So what I shared parts of myself with him I’d never disclosed to anyone?

If I were jealous over the way he looked at the octagon girls, this was something else entirely. And I just couldn’t help myself seeking answers to the questions firing off in my head.

Who was she?

Had she been the one on the other end of the phone calls I’d bore witness to?

Maybe she was his paradise.

Maybe I’d got this all wrong.

I didn’t understand how he could be intimate with me if he had someone in his life that meant something to him. Because that’s exactly how it looked–they had a familiarity that looked like they meant something to each other.

Did they mean something to each other?

To calm my annoyance, and to ease my racing heart, I looked back to the stage to refocus my attention as Killian’s weight was disclosed.

“It’s a match. Official weight one-seventy!”

The crowd cheered, their chants and screams filling the room, stealing every spare molecule of silence as they stomped their feet and raised their voices. The sound made it almost impossible to focus.

Walker couldn’t have a girlfriend.

He just couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asked.

“Fine.”

Though it seemed, without Walker by my side and with him by the brunette, an ache settled over me. I pulled my lips into my mouth to gnaw on them–an attempt to distract myself as the pace of my heart continued to increase. It seemed my anxiety was threatening to take me away just because my emotions were disorientated. Just because my mind was in turmoil.

Amplified by the noise of the crowd.

Amplified by the heat in the room.

Amplified by the eyes burning into my back.

I tried not to draw attention to my jealousy as I breathed through my body’s fighting urge to be near Walker. To have him take care of me the way he had in the restaurant last night. To replace answers to my questions and understand what they meant. To replace out if that woman was, in fact, his girlfriend.

He’d given me so many mixed messages. He was so against feeling anything for me, of admitting he had something with me. Was I naive to think it was just because of my age? Just because of my father?

Forcing my thoughts away from Walker and my attention to the stage, I flitted my eyes between Hudson and Killian. I watched as the two fighters moved centre stage and faced each other before Killian began shouting incendiary remarks, all in a bid to get under Hudson’s skin. And as he did, I felt Olivia tense beside me, not liking how Killian seemed to speak so derogatory of Hudson. Of his upbringing–of his past.

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling the power in Killian’s remarks as they burst between his lips like shot fire flying towards Hudson.

But Hudson wasn’t weak like me, and he didn’t tense like Olivia when Killian spoke shit about him. He didn’t crumble when others judged him. He didn’t seem to care for the way Killian was staring him down. No, Hudson deflected every word from Killian’s mouth with silent strength.

Though I did wonder one thing. I couldn’t understand why Hudson was nicknamed “Bully Boy” when he seemed less like a bully than Killian. Either way, Hudson took it, nestling every word into his skin like it built resilience. He stood tall, unbothered, his lips in a thin line, his eyes speaking what his mouth didn’t.

Tomorrow we’d watch as he threw those exact words back at Killian’s body, using nothing but his strength.

Eventually, my heart rate began to settle, and with that, I uncrossed my arms and dropped them to my sides. And then, because I was unable to keep away, I took a deep breath and chanced another look back at Walker. Only this time, I caught eyes with the woman beside him.

A slow, almost chilling smile broke across her face. And as if Walker felt my attention on her as hers was mine, he looked over his shoulder and stole it back for himself.

WALKER

SHIT.

I turned back to Sophia, feigning indifference towards Blue, who had captured my soon-to-be ex-wife’s attention. “Any particular reason why you’re in my club today, of all days?”

She stepped into me, handing me an envelope, forcing more decorum than necessary as she placed a kiss on my cheek. “Is that any way to greet your wife?”

It was an act.

I knew it; she knew it.

But those around us wouldn’t have known our marriage was in ruin without looking between the lines. We’d held it together for so long that they probably wouldn’t have known our marriage was a sham unless it was spelt out to them. And still, even if it were printed in big, bold letters, perhaps they still wouldn’t have believed it.

“The divorce papers.” I realised. “You’ve signed them?”

My brows pinched as I studied the envelope in my hands. I hoped she didn’t notice the slight tremor in my fingers. With the small amount of alcohol I consumed in the last few days, it would be embarrassing to admit that I was experiencing withdrawal.

When I looked up at her made-up face, set like stone and not giving too much of anything away, I realised I needn’t have been concerned. Or at least concerned over that. I had an entirely different reason to be uneasy, because she was still too busy looking over my shoulder.

At Blue.

“Who’s that?” Her red lips parted, and her tongue slowly crossed over her top teeth, lingering on a pointed canine. A sinister smile continued to play at her mouth as she turned back to scrutinise me.

“Who’s who?”

I kept my nonchalance, except I’m not sure my tone convinced her. She’d ambushed me, and I was sure she knew more than her stony face let on. Though maybe I was overthinking. Overanalysing every day I’d spent with Blue. Overanalysing what I’d done. Why I’d done it. What it meant.

In the eyes of the law, I’d committed adultery, and if Sophia were to ask if there had been someone else, the truth would be much different than the last time she’d asked me.

I could lie, of course. I’d done so much of that recently that I was surprised I could differentiate between the truth and a lie anymore.

But what did it matter? The last eleven years with the woman in front of me happened to be the biggest lie I’d ever told.

She glimpsed another look at Blue. The move only had me clenching my jaw and my eyes peering into the envelope’s seal as I pried it open. I realised I’d do almost anything to deflect her attention from Blue with what I had at stake.

Though what I had at stake was a conflict with how I felt.

“I’ve signed them,” she mused, refocusing her eyes on the envelope in my hands.

I couldn’t see her signature on the document, but I could make out a “fuck you” scrawled across the first page in cursive red lipstick instead.

She laughed. “How’s my handwriting?”

I clenched the envelope in my fist, which crinkled the paper. What good was it now?

“Why bother making this difficult for yourself, Sophia?”

“Because I haven’t decided what I want yet.”

I allowed her words to sink in before responding.

Had I heard her right?

“What you want? What more could you possibly want?” I’d raised my voice, but it didn’t warrant any extra attention and instead merged with the noise of the audience around us. “I think I’ve been more than fucking generous.”

“The townhouse is barely a scratch of your worth. Don’t embarrass yourself by fighting me on this. I’m entitled to a fair financial settlement.”

I scoffed. “Of course, you wouldn’t make this easy. Nothing with you ever is. I should have known I married a fucking narcissist.”

“Now, now.” She reached out, stroking her palms down the lapels of my jacket. Her nails looked like talons, likely to claw at me any second. I tried not to feel repulsed, but my face must have conveyed otherwise. “I’ve no idea why you’re looking at me like that. You know, these same nails used to draw blood from your back as you’d fuck me.”

“Emphasis on used to.”

I had the intrusive urge to break her fingers. The vision of her hands on my bare skin after I’d slept with Blue in my arms, after I’d felt her naked skin against my own last night when we showered, made me want to douse myself in bleach. I should’ve known she was never going to relent.

One-night stands were once my MO, but Sophia being Sophia, she kept coming back. She hadn’t relented then. It took longer than it should have, but eventually, she made me feel how I imagined a guy in love was supposed to feel. And she gave me dirty, mind-blowing sex which served as an escape from my responsibilities.

Lost in my head and desperate to get Noah out of foster care, I was turned away by the family court time and time again. A twenty-three-year-old working a full-time job in an industry that promoted alcohol and aggression wasn’t the face you ever saw on a child adoption brochure.

It was James who told me money could buy me anything. So when I had nowhere else to turn, and with desperation paving my way, I married Sophia and painted the picture of a perfect family.

I knew we were never meant for the long haul. And I was right because with each day that passed, and each year went by, she only grew harder to tolerate. She only grew harder to like.

But I wouldn’t cause a scene.

Not with the press here.

Not with roaming eyes.

Not with Blue standing not so far behind me.

It would warrant too many questions. It could jeopardise everything I’d built.

Regardless of the hardships, I’d re-live every fucking lousy day for my kid brother and me if it still got me to where I was.

“There must have been something more you saw in me; else you’d have left me much sooner,” she murmured, looking up at me from under her eyelashes. “I think we could fix us if you gave it a chance.”

I sensed sincerity there, but not enough for me to care. I couldn’t begin to understand why I had stuck around so long. It was like asking someone why they smoked when it caused cancer.

“There’s nothing for us to fix. You made your bed. I made mine. If you’re upset that your sheets itch, that’s a you problem.”

She drummed a patronising palm on my cheek. “Then I suppose you’ve given me no choice. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. You know how the saying goes, don’t you, Walker? The one about a woman being rejected in love?”

I didn’t.

She took another lasting look at Blue, who I prayed to fuck was no longer paying us any mind, before turning back to me. By the look on her face, I could have sworn that she knew something I didn’t. Or maybe I did know and hadn’t enough time to analyse just what it was before she spun on her heels, delivering one final blow that carried with her as she strutted towards the exit.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Yeah, she’d always been a psychotic bitch.