Page 51 of Craving the Edge

“It wasn’t a fuck, Char. It wasn’t,” I argued. “You think I did this on purpose? I didn’t want to tell you five minutes after I found out myself. I didn’t want to see that look on your face. I didn’t want to ruin the best night of my fucking life.”

“Your life?” she scoffed. “Your life will go on as usual while you’ve left mine a smoking ruin!”

“I was trying to have one single minute with you that wasn’t about fucking paparazzi, press conferences, and money. I want you to see me, Char. Did you?” I ran a hand over my face, her scent still on my fingers. “This fight isn’t something I can just walk away from. If I pull out now, I’m finished. Bankrupt. Sponsors will drop me, contracts with unbreakable clauses, broadcasting rights, event logistics… If I back out this close and they figure out I knew for months that my hand was fucked, I’ll be blacklisted. Rhys, my whole team…they all go down with me. I can’t change it. It is what it is.”

The desperation tasted like bile in my throat. I lowered my voice, pleading with her.

“I didn’t plan this. Any of it.” I took a half-step closer, testing the air between us. “I didn’t plan on walking into this gym and meeting you. Feeling this…this thing that’s been tearing my bloody head apart for weeks.”

I looked at her, at her arms crossed tight over her chest, the tears in her eyes. I wanted to shake her until she understood.

“I want to grab hold of you and not let go,” I said, my voice cracking. “I know it’s a mess. I know the timing is shit, but I’ll have your back. I swear to you, Char. No matter what happens in Sydney, whatever crap comes our way, I will protect you. Always.”

Her expression went flat, her tears drying up. She said nothing as she closed off, slamming down her walls and locking me out.

My chest tightened as her silence twisted in my gut. She didn’t have to say a word. Everything she feared, everything she believed about men like me, I’d just confirmed in the space of one gutless, selfish conversation.

She took a single step away from me, then turned her back and walked out. The change room door swung shut behind her and I stood there, alone.

It was the coldest power move I’d ever experienced from a woman. One that kicked me right in the balls.

What a fucking idiot.

I hadn’t protected her. I’d told myself I didn’t want to ruin the other night for her, but I’d been selfish. The truth was, I hadn’t wanted to ruin it for me.

The fight in Sydney suddenly felt pointless. A pointless rung on an even more pointless ladder…and now I’d face it utterly alone.

I stared at the closed door, the grey metal a perfect picture of the wall she’d just thrown up between us.

And I knew that I might’ve just lost her for good.

CHAPTER 18

CHAR

The sheets were a knotted mess around my legs.

I kicked them away, the flimsy Kmart cotton doing bugger all to cool my skin. Sleep was a distant country I’d never visit again. My eyes burned, swollen and raw from the hours I’d spent staring at the cracks in my ceiling, crying until nothing was left but a dry, rattling ache in my chest.

I didn’t want to ruin the best night of my fucking life.

Declan’s words played on a loop, the sound of them bouncing around my skull. What a piece of shit. He hadn’t wanted to ruin it for me? Liar. He hadn’t wanted to ruin it for him.

He’d walked in there with a plan: fuck me into submission, then tell me the truth. It was so manipulative.

Every touch, every kiss, that whole night in his apartment now felt like another performance…and I’d bought it.

What an idiot. A complete and utter fool. I should’ve known. People who say they’ll protect you are the first ones to throw you under the bus. The first to pack their bags.

I’d wanted it to be different. For once in my stupid life, I wanted someone to care. Not just someone, a guy. Declan.

I rolled over and closed my eyes.

The vibration of my mobile against the table was enough to wake me, the screen flaring to life and making me squint at the glare. I reached for it and saw it was three in the morning, the display showing a private number that was likely just some scammer trying their luck. I almost swiped to ignore the call, but I didn’t put the phone back down. Something told me I needed to answer, so I did.

“Hello?”

“Char? Is that you? It’s Jason.” The voice was thin, frantic. Jason was one of the freelance trainers who ran morning boot camps. “Fighter’s Edge is on fire.”