5 Rounds: Chapter 19

I stare wide-eyed at the front door as it slams shut. I’m so shocked at Remy’s parting comment that I just stand there, blinking, for what feels like a very long minute.

There’s an ache in my chest. Unthinking, I start to rub it. It suddenly feels hollow and cold.

Thanks for the dick? Is that all this was? A fuck?

How could she think we were just fucking? Last night was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I’ve never felt so connected to a person, or so obsessed with their pleasure. I almost fell to my knees when she stood naked in front of me yesterday, beautifully clothed only in moonlight. In that moment, I would’ve given her anything she asked for—my only thought was to make her happy. I could’ve skipped the orgasms and been just as happy doing anything she asked of me.

I don’t think it’s ever been just fucking. How could I have misread the situation so badly?

I shake my head with a frown, trying to physically straighten the muddled thoughts in my brain into some kind of order. Why does the thought of not having Remy around make me feel worse than a fifteen-pound weight cut the day before a fight?

I feel dizzy, like I might pass out. I reach for the banister to steady myself as I start to sway. I realize then that I’ve never before wanted to be more than a booty call to anyone. These thoughts of wanting to keep her, of getting jealous when someone else pays attention to her, of wanting to see her smile and feeling lighter in my own body when she does—these are all brand new thoughts to me. And it never fucking occurred to me that she might not feel the same way.

Jax walks through the front door and finds me wide-eyed and glued to the spot, gripping the banister with white knuckles. ‘Whoa, dude, what the fuck?” he cries. “You look like you just saw a ghost. What happened?’

I shake my head with a frown, once again trying to organize my own clusterfuck of thoughts. I let go of the banister and shove my hands into my pockets with a cough.

‘Nothing, I just got a big fight offer,’ I lie quickly. ‘And then I had to turn it down.’

Okay, so not a complete lie, just a few days late with the news.

And yes, a little lie about why I’m white as a sheet right now.

‘

‘ Jax yelps. He braces his hands on his hips and aims a very angry frown in my direction. ‘What do you mean you turned it down?!’

I nervously run my fingers through my hair, turning my gaze to the ceiling. ‘They finally offered me Jenkins,’ I admit. ‘But I had to turn it down because I’m already scheduled to go to Myrtle Beach with Mom for her 50th birthday weekend. I tried to make her understand how big an opportunity this was, but she couldn’t let go of the idea that I was picking fighting over her. She practically burst into tears when I mentioned not going.’ I wince at the memory.

Jax mutters a curse and starts pacing the hallway. ‘How does your family not understand how good you are?’ he spits angrily. ‘Why do they still think you’re just a kid playing at karate? It’s fucking ridiculous to turn down a possible interview for the UFC for a goddamn .’

Jax is seething, glaring at the wall as he tries to calm his thoughts. In this moment I’m once again reminded how good a friend he is. How hard he’d fight for me and how much he actually gives a shit about me. He might be more upset about this situation than even I was after the phone call with my mom.

.

I shake away the thoughts of Remy. I can’t handle more than one life crisis at a time.

‘This is bullshit,’ Jax growls. ‘So, you’re really not going to take the fight?’

I wince and awkwardly rub the back of my neck. ‘I can’t hurt my own mom, Jax. My parents aren’t like yours. You know you’ll always have them, no matter what happens to you or them. With my parents… with my parents this would be the last straw. It would break Mom’s heart and Dad would cut me out.’ I hang my head, guilt seeping out of my every pore. ‘I can’t do that to my own mother, man.’

Jax sighs angrily and throws up his hands in defeat. ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s the right call.’ He pauses and aims one more glare my way before dropping it. ‘But dude, your family fucking sucks when it comes to fighting.’

I sigh in defeat of my own. ‘Yeah, I know. If I want to make it to the UFC, I might have to break their hearts someday. I know that. But… just not today.’

He nods sympathetically before looking around. ‘By the way, where’s Remy? I thought we were doing lunch when I got back. Is she back yet?’

A hot blade of pain pierces through my chest at the mention of her name.

‘Uh, she left,’ I stammer. That blade twists further in my heart when I hear just how true those words ring.

Jax’s brows furrow and he tilts his head, staring at me with an unspoken question. Of course he’d be able to sense that something is different.

I try to remember how I acted with Remy before this all started. All sarcasm and condescension, right? Some sexist jokes? A generally uncaring attitude?

‘She said she was tired of my ugly face and wanted to get out of here,’ I choke out hastily, remembering her parting words and swallowing the dizziness that threatens to knock me over at the memory. ‘She went back to the new apartment. Not sure if she’ll come back, she seemed pretty over this house after being stuck with me for so long.’

Jax nods in understanding, the skepticism finally leaving his face. I exhale my relief and purposefully ignore the pang of fear that slices through me at the thought of Remy never coming back—to the house or to me.

Jax finally pushes past me into the kitchen, unloading the groceries I didn’t realize he’d dropped at the door when he first came in. I quickly reach for the remaining bags and help him unload the food.

‘I’ve been living off fast food and hotel buffet bars,’ he grunts as he reaches for the sous vide to make steaks. ‘I’m ready for some healthy, homemade food. Figured I’d make us some steak and vegetables. Maybe some eggs. And some bacon. And maybe a salad? I think Remy said she had some chicken in here that I could throw in a salad…’

I shake my head with a smile. I have never met anyone that can eat as much as Jax does.

‘If I throw the steak in the sous vide then instead of lunch we can do an early dinner in a few hours,’ he muses aloud, staring at the cuts of steak he just bought from the store. I can already tell he’s laying claim to the bigger piece, and that he’ll finish it all. ‘I might throw these in and then unpack and work for an hour. I’ll make the eggs and bacon while the meat is cooking if you throw the chicken Caesar salad together. Good plan?’

I nod, even though he can’t see it because his mouth is still watering over the steak. ‘Yeah, that sounds good. I might go for a quick run while you work then. Dinner at 5:00?’

He nods and I stand from the barstool to head upstairs to get changed. I barely make it to the stairs when I hear Jax mutter to himself, ‘It’s probably a good thing Remy’s not here. I don’t think we’d have enough food for her.’

I swallow roughly as her name drives another stab of pain through my heart. I sprint the rest of the way up the stairs, wanting to be pounding the pavement and letting the wind and my own physical exertion drive any remaining thoughts of her from my aching brain.

Thanks to an exhausting six miles, I manage to keep my inner turmoil out of my brain and away from Jax’s attention. We make dinner and then hang out on the couch, chatting about his trip and our California friends that he was training with. Talking about fighting is an easy and welcome distraction, and when the conversation dies down, I turn some fights on to keep the topic going.

Eventually we decide to call it an early night. And even though I find myself yawning from the hard run I just put my body through, I can already tell I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.

I say goodnight to Jax at the top of the stairs, ignoring the pang of agony that beats through me when I see him turn into what was Remy’s room. I quickly shuffle into my own room and slam the door.

Except here, the pain magnifies. Because she was here, too. With me.

And of course, I hadn’t realized it then, but I was already into her at that point. It probably started the night we sat on the couch and quizzed each other. Every question revealed a new side of her that I never anticipated liking so much. I always knew she was smart, and loyal to her friends, but that night I found out she was fierce, and passionate, and smart in a way that she was able to be both of those things yet still stay rational. I learned that she was unlike any woman I have ever known.

And that night she slept in my arms.

And the next night she helped me face the painful issue of my parents.

And then slept in my arms again.

The funny thing is, I’m not even considering the sex we’ve had. It’s not that I don’t think it’s the most mind-blowing, passionate, addicting sex I’ve ever had—because it’s 1000% that. In all honesty, I don’t know how I’ll be able to fuck anyone else after Remy.

I lean against my door, nauseous at the thought of sleeping with another woman. I shake the ugly thoughts from my head and instead sit down on my bed, dropping my head into my hands.

I’m not considering the sex because that aspect of our connection just seems like a cherry on top. It makes me think we’re more compatible, sure, but sex wasn’t the reason I kept looking for more time to spend with her. Maybe at first, but definitely not after the night on the couch. I wanted her around because I actually liked talking to her; I liked hearing what she had to say. And that’s never happened with a female. Typically, I can’t wait for girls to leave after the sex is over. But with Remy…

With Remy I found myself looking forward to the non-sex part just as much as the sex part.

I groan and throw myself on the bed. I’m definitely not going to be sleeping tonight.

I can barely function at the gym the next day. I slept, but I didn’t sleep. I closed my eyes, but it felt like I had pulled an all-nighter when my alarm went off this morning.

I force myself to fake a smile and a high energy level when I teach morning classes, and later my private lessons. I must do a decent job with my acting because nobody mentions anything to me all day. It isn’t until the evening classes start that my mask slips for the first time.

When I realize that Remy trains on Monday nights.

I scowl and angrily shake my head clear of ridiculous ‘what if’ questions. Since when did I turn into such a girl? I’m Tristan fucking West, why are my palms starting to sweat with nerves over a girl I’ve known for years?

Only, my nervous glances toward the door are wasted. Remy never shows up to her usual class.

By fifteen minutes after the hour, I realize I can’t put off leaving any longer. I’m usually gone, or at least getting ready to leave, by the time the last class of the night starts. If I continue to hang around—desperate for a glance, a reaction, , from Remy—people are going to notice. I need to leave. She’s obviously not coming.

I ignore my agitated brain that’s trying to figure out what that could mean.

.

Only, she doesn’t show up on Wednesday. Or Saturday.

I go from being desperate to see her, to frantic that something’s wrong. It’s not like Remy to not train, especially on Saturdays.

I debate asking Jax if he knows anything. If there’s something going on, he’ll know. But asking him about Remy will tip him off that something went down between us, so I need to phrase it in a way that doesn’t make him suspicious. But I definitely need to ask because I’m going crazy with all the unknowns.

I find Jax in the lounge area, stretched out on the couch talking to one of the assistant instructors. I immediately relax at the sight—he wouldn’t look so casual, or even be here at the gym, if there was something wrong with Remy.

‘Hey, sorry man,’ I interrupt. Their laughter is cut short, and they turn toward me expectantly.

I try for a casual look as I plop down in the office chair behind the front desk. ‘Some people have noticed that Remy hasn’t been here in a while. Lucy seems close-lipped about it so Aiden and the others just want to make sure she’s okay. Any idea what’s going on with her?’

Jax is silent for a moment as he stares at me with a curious expression on his face. I squeeze the armrests to keep from fidgeting—he can probably see right through me.

‘She’s fine,’ he finally answers. ‘She has a big deadline coming up at work, so she’s been focusing on that, working late hours. Plus, she’s been busy getting settled in the new apartment.’ He tilts his head and stares at me for another breath, and I think to myself, . ‘You can tell Aiden and the others that she’ll be back when her schedule’s not so crazy.’

I swallow nervously but nod.

I try to ignore the vicious thought as it pops into my head. Because if that’s true, my barely-contained heart is definitely going to disintegrate into pieces and I’ll never be able to get through the rest of my day.

I take a shuddering breath and turn back to the computer to try to distract myself.

Even though I know I don’t have a chance in hell at holding another focused thought for the rest of the night.

I don’t have to go to the gym the next day. Sundays are typically my days off, though I often end up scheduling private lessons in the morning for some extra cash. But my day is empty of even that today. I don’t have a single thing on my schedule.

Which means I have nothing to distract myself with. Nothing to do but to yet again let my brain wander down a hazardous path of ‘why’ and ‘what if.’

My five-mile run this morning did nothing to drive away the perpetual ache in my chest. Sometimes, when I’m exhausted enough, my body is too tired to hurt and actually lets me shut down and sleep. It’s the reason I’ve been overtraining and running myself into the ground.

Numbness and physical exhaustion are better than soul-deep pain.

I’m just about to start calling gym people to see who wants to get an extra workout in at the gym when my phone lights up in my hand.

is calling.

As always, I answer with a hesitant tone, since it’s rare that she calls without a request. God forbid she calls just to say hi and to see how her son is doing.

‘Hi, Mom. What’s up?’

‘Hi, honey. How’s your Sunday?’

‘Good. Relaxing. It’s my off day so I don’t need to be at the gym.’ I immediately wince when I realize I probably just walked myself straight into an invite to see the family.

‘Oh, good,’ she chirps happily, and I can hear her clap her hands in delight. ‘Why don’t you come over for dinner then? I thought we could spend a nice family dinner together. I’ll even make your favorite dish for you.’

I rub my temples tiredly. The last thing I want to do when I’m this exhausted is deal with small talk with my own family.

Then again, fighting with my dad might be the kind of distraction I need right now.

‘Sure, Mom, I’ll come over,’ I sigh. ‘What time?’

She claps excitedly again. ‘Come over at 6:00. That will give me time to throw some chicken pot pie for you. Does that work?’

‘Yeah, that works. Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you then.’

‘Bye, honey,’ she chirps as she hangs up.

I turn toward the front door and the running shoes I had just taken off before Mom’s phone call. With a sigh, I lace them back up for another run.