Fighter's Kiss: An enemies-to-lovers MMA romance (Irish Kiss Book 3), page 11
“It’s my fucking choice!” Declan shouted, jabbing his finger at Niall’s chest. “Mine and mine alone.”
“Right, right, Declan.” Niall crossed his arms and moved his face up to Declan’s. “Because you’ve had a great streak of choices recently. Real good choices, pal.”
When Declan spoke, his voice was low and threatening, like the rattle of snake: a warning before its deadly strike. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
Niall continued nonetheless, “Giselle was a fantastic choice, obviously.” Niall lifted one finger.
“I won’t say it again, friend,” Declan hissed. “Do not speak another word.”
Niall counted on another raised finger. “Getting locked off your tits drunk that night, another great choice in the history of Declan Gallagher’s great, great choices.”
From across the gym I could already see Declan’s fingers, one by one, tightening into a white-knuckled fist.
“Oh, am I missing one?” Niall tapped his chin before lifting a third finger and waving it in Declan’s face. “Right! Throwing away your career by crashing your fucking car!”
“Woah, woah!” I shouted as Declan’s arm whipped back, lightning fast.
Both men turned toward me as I ran over to them. I placed myself between them and extended my arms to shove them away from each other.
“What is going on?” I demanded, looking up from one to the other as both sent glares at one another over the top of my head. “Someone better tell me.”
“Why don’t we get the opinion of your pretty little assistant here,” Niall spat, grinning sardonically as he crossed his arms. “She’s seen you the last couple of weeks.”
Declan’s chest was still heaving as his dark eyes sent daggers toward his physio.
“Hello?” I said, but I still couldn’t get Declan to look at me. “What. Is. Going. On?”
“Should I tell her or do you want to?” Niall said, jutting his chin toward Declan.
Declan remained silent save his furious exhales like some sort of wild bull.
“This fucking idiot here thinks that he’s ready to fight again,” Niall said to me, pointing a finger at Declan. “Without consulting his doctor, without consulting his physio, me, he’s gone ahead and announced his return.”
I looked over my shoulder at Declan in surprise. He didn’t see me. In fact, I wasn’t sure he was seeing anything other than bright, all-encompassing red.
“He’s going to get himself killed out there if he goes back now,” Niall said as I continued to look at Declan. “He’s going to fucking get himself killed.”
In my head, I replayed the videos of the MMA fights I’d seen, and they were brutal. There was no place for weakness in that cage, not an ounce of it.
“Listen, River.” A gentle hand on my arm startled me, and I turned around to find Niall leaning over so we were face to face. I couldn’t help but contrast the feel of the sweet-faced, mild-mannered physio’s touch with Declan’s. They couldn’t have been more opposite from one another. Niall was tender, soft, gentle. He was a friendly breeze on a sunny afternoon.
Declan was a goddamn crashing wave in the heart of a storm across a shoreless sea.
I glanced back at Declan before focusing my attention on Niall’s earnest light brown eyes.
“Please, you have to tell him,” Niall insisted. “He’ll listen to you. Declan cannot fight.”
He must have seen the hesitation on my face, because he squeezed my arm before pressing his case further. “Has he told you the extent of his injuries from the accident?” he asked. “Do you have any idea how badly he was injured?” Niall looked over my head at Declan. “Did you tell her?”
I couldn’t see Declan’s face, but whatever was on it, Niall just scoffed and shook his head. “Of course you didn’t tell her,” he spat out angrily. “Because if she knew, she’d never agree that you should fight this soon, if ever.” Niall focused his eyes on me. “Seven fractured ribs, a collapsed lung, an absolutely shattered clavicle,” Niall listed in rapid succession, barely pausing for breath. “Orbital fractures in two places beneath his left eye, four broken fingers, three on his right hand, hairline fractures in both the ulna and radius of his right arm, a humorous practically snapped in half, a dislocated shoulder, and as a cherry on fucking top, a goddamn torn rotator cuff that isn’t even close to being healed.”
I stared in shock up at Niall as his chest heaved up and down and his fingers squeezed deep into the flesh of my arm. My mind flashed with images of a winding road, slick with pouring rain, a mangled car reduced to jagged pieces of bent metal with a body trapped inside, unconscious, bruised, and bloody.
Declan.
I’d seen the pictures of the crash. I’d heard the story of that night. I’d known there were scars. But it’d never felt real like it had in this moment. My palms grew clammy and my heart seemed to skip a beat as it fluttered nervously in my chest.
“River.” Niall levelled his eyes to mine.
I could barely breathe as I stared at him.
“He’ll never tell you, ever, but for Declan every jab, every uppercut, every right hook, left hook, every cross, overhand, round kick, choke, guard pass, sprawl, and strike is agony. Pure agony.” Niall released my arm, straightened, stepped back, and sighed as he pushed his fingers through his hair. “He cannot fight,” he concluded. “And you need to tell him.”
I stared at Niall for a moment longer before turning my head to see Declan. I was surprised to find him not defeated, not slumped over with his glassy gaze on the floor, not avoiding my eyes at all, but instead staring straight at me, chin high, shoulders back, eyes intense. There was a challenge in the ferocity of his glare that was locked on me. He was daring me to tell him. His fight wasn’t in the cage at all. It was right here. Right now.
And he was ready.
“He’s stronger than you think.” I didn’t speak loudly, but in the near silence of the gym, every word sounded like a bullet from a gun.
“Excuse me?”
I turned to find Niall staring down at me in surprise. “You’re underestimating him,” I repeated, refusing to cower under the physio’s scrutiny.
“You need to really consider your next words carefully,” Niall whispered, his voice nearly shaking.
I checked over my shoulder back at Declan and found all the strength I needed to see without even glancing at his muscles. I turned back to Niall, who was waiting, leaning forward. “I think Declan should fight,” I said.
Niall threw his arms up into the air and shouted, “For fuck’s sake!” He stormed past me, shouldering me out of the way and cursing under his breath as he hurried in a rage out of the gym.
I watched his back till he disappeared, slamming the door behind him. Did I just make a huge mistake?
Was I just being rash? Was I just swept up in my feelings for Declan? Was I ignoring my head to follow my heart?
Did I just doom Declan to more pain, suffering, and defeat than he’d already experienced over the past few months, more than any one man should ever experience in a lifetime?
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Declan staring at me. One eyebrow was slightly raised as he eyed me from head to toe. It was as if I wasn’t the same girl who had been standing in front of him the whole time. It was as if he was seeing me for the first time.
When he caught me looking at him, he blinked, frowned, and turned on his heel to march to the treadmill. “Get to work,” he ordered before putting it on max speed.
“Please don’t prove me wrong.”
The sound of his feet on the belt drowned out my response.
Declan
As the first star appeared in the sky, I stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the garden at the back of the manor, only to find the girl standing at the stone railing. She tugged a blanket tight to her neck as she sipped a steaming cup of hot chocolate loaded with a mountain of whipped cream.
“Dammit,” I heard her whisper to herself as the wind swept a curl across her face just as she was drinking, lashing it directly into the cream.
I held back a laugh as she clumsily tried to wipe off her hair and keep the cup from spilling. After the accident, I thought I had closed up my heart, nailed shut the doors, locked every lock, boarded over every window. How had this girl so easily slipped inside?
Shaking my head, I walked forward to join her at the railing as one by one, stars dotted the sky as if switched on as easily as the lamp at my bedside.
She glanced over at me with chocolate-covered lips and a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her nose, cheeks rosy in the chill of the night air. “Do I have anything on my face?” she asked as she attempted to tuck her unruly hair behind her ear.
I opened my mouth to tell her she had everything on her face, but at the sight of her wide, innocent, sweet eyes, I closed my lips and changed my mind. “No,” I said instead. “You’re perfect.”
“Good.” She sighed, taking another sip and making those little noises of pleasure. “That would have been embarrassing.”
I forced back a smile as that silence that was becoming so familiar to me wrapped its comforting arms around the two of us. The sky darkened, but with each new star, the girl’s pretty face was bathed in more and more delicate light that seemed made just for her.
I wanted to thank her for taking my side with Niall regarding my decision to announce my return. I wanted to tell her that it meant more than I could possibly put into words, especially considering the way I already struggled to express myself. I wanted to explain to her that these last few months I’d felt more alone than I thought was possible. My world had been an empty, dark, isolated void. And I liked it that way.
At least I was able to convince myself of that only until she came like a gust of colourful blossoms through my front door.
But as I stood next to her at the stone railing and looked over the outline of distant hills in the moonlight, I found the comfortable silence between us spoke more than I could. Her presence calmed me. Normally, silence meant chaos, panic, anger. Because in silence I could hear most clearly my own raging thoughts: You should be training. You should be working. You need to win back your title. You need to defeat Dominic. You need to show them you’re strong. You need to show everyone. It’s all that matters.
But in the silence with the girl, I didn’t think about training. I didn’t think about fighting. I didn’t think about winning. It was peace.
Peace I hadn’t thought was possible.
“I’d missed the stars in the city.”
I glanced over to find the girl’s neck craned back, her eyes searching the constellations above us.
“The first night I arrived in New York, I stepped off the bus, looked up to see Times Square with such anticipation, and in the glare of the lights, found myself willing to trade it all in for just a single star in a black sky,” she continued. “I almost got back on the bus right then and there.”
Her long, soft eyelashes seemed to skim the night sky itself as I drank in the sight of her elegant neck, her pink cheeks, her curly hair in the wind. “Why didn’t you?” I asked.
“Hmm?”
“Why didn’t you get back on the bus?” I clarified. “Why did you stay?”
“Oh, umm…” The girl finally looked over at me. She bit her lip and hesitated. “You’re going to laugh.”
I raised a curious eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s silly.”
Leaning against the railing, I crossed my arms and levelled my gaze at her. “Have you ever heard me laugh?” I asked.
A small grin made the girl’s face even prettier as she considered my question.
“I don’t think I’ll start giggling now,” I said. “Trust me.”
The girl laughed. “Fine, fine.” She pointed a finger at me. “But still promise.”
I made the sign of an x over my heart.
She looked back up at the stars before beginning. “It was a ridiculous idea, but I went to New York because I had this marvellous, wonderful, colourful dream of being a photographer and opening up my very own studio.”
Still not understanding, I asked, “Why is that ridiculous?”
The girl avoided eye contact with me as she continued to bite at her lip and shift nervously from foot to foot. Finally, she answered, “Because I ran out of money in a week. I had to work three jobs to pay rent, because it took me three months to save enough money to buy my shitty camera and I had to volunteer at a studio to get lessons. Because people in that city use you and throw you away when they’ve gotten what they want from you and you’re left with nothing but a broken dream and—” She stopped and glanced over at me with red cheeks, flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile.
“It doesn’t sound like you have anything to be sorry for,” I whispered.
We looked into each other’s eyes, and I again wanted to speak to her. I wanted to tell her I understood. I wanted to tell her I’d been used, too…tell her I was the king of broken dreams.
But our silence was enough.
“Anyway,” she said, breaking eye contact and smiling, “I’m just happy to be back with the stars. That’s all I need, really. Stars and a camera.”
Guilt flooded my chest at the memory of breaking the camera she’d saved up for. “I didn’t know it meant that much to you,” I admitted, scratching at the back of my neck. “Not that it’s an excuse or anything. I just…I’m sorry.”
The girl turned her head to smile at me. “The camera you replaced it with is a thousand times better than my old one. Don’t be too sorry.”
“Still,” I said.
She remained silent for a moment, but I could see a debate playing across her delicate features. I thought she had decided to remain silent, but I was obviously wrong when she blurted out this question, “Do you hike?”
I bit back a chuckle. “Hike?”
“Yeah,” she awkwardly continued. “Well, it’s just that tomorrow, I was planning on going up through the forest and taking pictures with the camera and stuff and, well, if you wanted to come along, you totally could.”
She was speaking so quickly I could barely understand her.
“I mean, if you don’t want to or can’t or, you know, don’t want to, then it’s obviously totally fine. I mean it’s not a big deal at all. Like you can come or you don’t come. Wow, I’m saying come a lot. Shit. Umm, yeah either way I’m totally cool. No pressure. No pressure at all. Like totally no press—”
“I want to.”
She looked over at me in surprise. “Huh?”
“Come,” I said. “I mean I want to come.”
She stared at me.
I felt my own cheeks warm. “I mean I want to go hike with you. Tomorrow.”
The girl nodded, a sweet smile growing on her pink lips. “Great,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“It’s a date.” The girl’s smile disappeared and she quickly corrected, “I mean, not a date, but—”
“It’s a date,” I repeated her words.
It was obvious the girl was trying to hide her grin as she nodded and returned her gaze to the stars.
Our silence returned.
Then I realised what I had agreed to without thinking. I had training in the morning, as always. When was I going to catch up on those missed hours? How far behind would it put me? I couldn’t miss training. If I missed training…
What?
What terrible thing would happen? I’d not be in the best shape I could be in for my fight? I’d lose? I’d never reclaim my title? I’d never prove Giselle wrong?
As I stood there next to the girl, I couldn’t quite bring myself to care as much as I had before. I couldn’t even quite remember why I had in the first place. Because all my dreams in life were erased for just one single desire—to walk next to this girl beneath the trees and hear only our breaths and nothing else for miles.
I glanced over at the girl.
I’d never been more thankful for the stars. Because as she got to stare at them, I got to stare at her.
River
Declan Gallagher had been full of surprises the last few days. But none was more shocking than, when halfway through our picnic at the lookout point in the forest, he leaned forward and unlaced his sneakers. Then slipped them off and his socks, as he wiggled his bare toes in the soft breeze that tugged at my curls and danced through the green leaves above us.
Sitting next to him on the red-and-white chequered blanket with nothing but a wicker basket between us, I gawked at him with my mouth open and my eyes wide.
Reaching for another grape, he said before plopping it into his mouth, “Don’t say a fucking word.” He kept his gaze, stern-faced as usual, on the view of the rolling hills beneath us.
I could swear I caught the tiniest quirk of his lips slip into what could possibly be described as a smile. I grinned and leaned back on my elbows to enjoy the stunning emerald scenery around me.
That morning, I packed a picnic basket of fresh fruits, a hot-from-the-oven baguette the length of my arm, and the biggest wheel of cheese I could find in Oisin’s pantry along with my new camera and my sunglasses, hoping for just a few precious rays of sun. As dawn illuminated the fog-covered horizon, Declan met me at the front door of the manor. Then we set out through a narrow, overgrown path that wound its way around ancient moss-covered roots, along trickling brooks with the clearest of waters. Then through tiny meadows that seemed to dazzle like a gem mine from the reflection of the first rays of hazy sun on the delicate dew-covered petals.
We moved slowly along the path as I paused nearly every other step to take another picture that I simply couldn’t resist. It was all just too beautiful to pass up. But I was afraid that Declan would quickly grow bored or impatient. If he had his way, I thought, we’d surely be sprinting through the awakening forest with weights around our ankles and twenty-five-pound dumbbells in each hand. Only to reach the lookout point at the top of the hill, to do a thirty-five-minute workout complete with burpees and push-ups. Then sprint back down to the manor, pausing only to swallow some raw eggs and chug some protein powder before heading back over to the gym for an afternoon training session.
