ONE

Xander

WE DIDN'T LEAVE as early as we planned. Ethan and Billie both needed extra sleep. We all did really.

Jax and I found them in bed this morning. Both naked. Billie lying chest to chest with Ethan, his large hands fully spread over her back like a shield of protection. When we woke them, Billie whined out her resistance like a newborn puppy being pulled away from her mother's teat, and they both readjusted for Jax and me to crawl in.

We did so eagerly.

To see them now, you'd never guess they were engulfed in each other's emotional and mental agony for over half the night. You'd never guess I had to heal dozens of tiny ruptured blood vessels that had painted red dots across Billie's eyelids. Or that Billie needed to do a few yoga exercises to walk... properly.

I know Ethan would never purposefully hurt her; I know they were processing emotions that were far more painful than physical discomfort. At the same time, it alarms me to know how easily she'll put her body—herself—at risk for others. Ethan noticed her wince when she arose from bed, and his face crumbled. She immediately took him aside and they talked. Whatever was said, whatever was expressed, was enough to ease his mind.

After I healed her eyelids, we spoke about my concerns: about her putting herself in harm's way and about how her pain affects us, regardless of whether I can heal her or not. Her being injured, her being hurt, hurts us too. She nodded and said she understood. I didn't fail to notice the half eye roll when she turned away, leading me to think she was placating me more than not.

She's cuddled up on my lap in the back seat of Jax's Dodge Charger, making the cramped quarters irrelevant. She mumbles against my thighs, "I guess I should give you the rundown of how today and tonight will go." I look down at her. Her head rests on my lap while her hands play with the cords of her green O'Sullivan's half hoodie. She wants my fingers, but I've got one hand twirling her hair and the other stroking her bare midriff, both refusing to leave their current positions. Her fingers tug on her ear, indicating whatever she hasn't told us has her nervous.

"Better tell us soon, Rocky. We're nearly there, yea," Jax says from the driver's seat, his eyes alternating from the road to the rearview mirror. Ethan stretches an arm out and turns down the stereo.

Groaning, Billie places a hand on my thigh and pushes herself up to a half-seated position, leaning on my shoulder. I lift my arm and wrap it around her. She flops into the offered space, and my hand finds her silky skin once more. She tugs on her ear again and inhales stutteringly. "So, there are traditions I need to uphold for fight night." And that's where she stops.

Ethan turns slightly around in his seat, and Jax glances back in the rearview mirror. I give her a squeeze. She lets her head drop farther back onto me, and it feels like my heart beats just for her. With her eyes closed, she continues on an exhale. "I'll be spending the two hours before the fight with Micky and Jimmy. Just the three of us. They've already signed the rules agreement and completed the weigh-ins, so that's taken care of." She pauses, her eyes still closed.

I take the opportunity to nuzzle her temple and inhale her scent. Last night was rough for all of us, and the need to be close, to touch and affirm our connection, is high. She rubs her cheek just below my neck and sighs. "This is a title fight for Jimmy. It's big, so keeping everything as routine as possible is an understatement. Jimmy and Micky will not be at our house when we arrive. We'll have an hour or so to settle in before I head to the arena. Usually Marcus picks me up, and we head over together. He'll hang out with Jake, who left with Micky and Jimmy. Dom, Enzo, and potentially Brandon will all show up later. I'll be coming out with Jimmy and Micky and won't be focused on anyone or anything but them until the fight is over. There should be three VIP badges for you at the house. You can either come to the arena alone or go with Marcus and me."

"Ritual is important," Ethan states.

Billie's head lifts up. Opening her eyes, she nods and asserts, "Yeah, SUPAH important." Her head swivels around, checking out where we are, and whatever she sees has her bolting upright and out from under my arm. "Jax, we're almost there!" she exclaims, her hands rapidly clapping in front of her chest. I rub my chest in an effort to calm my heart's reaction to her going from sleepily grumbling to screaming with delight. Her ability to change emotions at the drop of the hat, expressing and feeling them with such commitment, is something I'm still trying to get used to. I can't decide if it's good or bad, or if I need to label it as either. However she is feeling, there's a pull on those around her to follow, to be swept up with her. The corners of my lips tick up.

Jax's eyes go wide in the rearview mirror, and he mocks, "OH MY GOD, really?"

She snarls and scrunches her face up at his reflection. Soon she's smiling and gleefully laughing. "Right there! Right there!" She frantically points at a sage green multifamily house on a corner lot in a heavily cramped neighborhood.

"I see it! I see it!" Jax continues in the same sarcastically excited voice.

Billie rolls her eyes at his mocking, but her smile remains. "You can pull in on the side and behind. We actually have a garage and two parking spots. Micky's been here since his parents came over from Ireland." We drive around back. There's a black SUV parked near the rear walkway, and we pull up next to it. The backyard has a small rectangular patch of grass, but most of the area is taken up by the parking spaces. "We've got the end unit," Billie adds while hurriedly looping her arms through the straps of her book bag and duffel bag. She's got her door open and a foot on the pavement all before Jax can even turn the car off.

Climbing out, I glimpse over the hood to find Billie bounding up the cement back steps with keys in hand, squealing with absolute excitement. Before she's reached the top step, Marcus, the towering offensive lineman of a man that he is, has replaced the main door and is swinging the storm door open. His large mouth is spread into a wide smile, and his bright-white teeth and blue eyes shine against his dark skin. Crouching down, he picks her up and swings her from side to side, bellowing out, "Annnndddd DA DEMON is back in DA DEN!"

Billie squeals a little more.

The three of us have collected our bags and are walking to the rear door being held open by Marcus's back as he and Billie hug and laugh their greetings, each one of us smiling. "I'm so glad she's got tight adductors, yea," Jax jokes with a brow waggle. Looking at Billie and Marcus now, I see what I wasn't able to before: they're really close, but the affection isn't sexual.

Marcus finally puts her down and reaches his long arm around her toward us. "Xander, good to see you, man," he greets with a friendly smile. His large hand (and mine aren't small) engulfs mine in a short firm shake.

"You too," I reply with a slanted grin and a good-natured chin lift. After releasing my hand, he welcomes Ethan and Jax with the same shake and wide, genuine smile. Bobbing his head, he says, "Glad you guys were able to come down for the fight."

"We're looking forward to it. We've only really seen two brief examples of the O'Sullivan boxing technique, and though highly impressive"—sliding my gaze down to my mate, I give her a crooked smile— "well, I have a feeling her methods may be a little unorthodox."

Billie gasps out in shocked outrage while Marcus throws his head back laughing. "I can't disagree there, man," he replies while giving her a one-armed squeeze. Resembling a young teenager next to the big guy, she peeks her head out from under his arm and cuts a glare at him, right on par with that impression. He raises his free hand up in defense. "Not saying anything about your effectiveness, Demon, I swear. But he's got a point. Micky and Jimmy did train you slightly differently than the rest of us. Maybe if you'd been more open to training with the women, but well. . ." He arches a brow.

"Yeah, yeah," Billie huffs with a roll of her eyes. "I know, but I didn't want to train like that." Her upper lip tugs up on one side, and she softly scoffs, "Or with them." There's a tension in her voice that has my brow dipping, wondering what it was about the women she didn't like.

"Right," Marcus affirms, sharing a knowing look with her before returning his gaze to me. He lifts a shoulder. "Demon trained with us, meaning she had to learn how to fight outside of her weight class." His brows raise. "Which she did. Believe me, she did." Billie's cheeks pinken while her lips curve into a small smile. "That being said," Marcus continues, "the rest of us may at our core have similar training and style, but Micky always says one of the biggest strengths of a boxer or any fighter is the ability to be flexible with your approach. You've got to know your opponent and adjust."

"It was her T. rex arms, wasn't it?" Jax asks with a cheeky smile. "That made her have to—"

He doesn't get to finish. His words become a surprised grunt after a playful low hook to the gut from our mate.

Ethan and I both scoff a laugh, not really surprised at all, while Marcus exclaims, "Oh snap!" with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"What was that about my perfectly proportional arms, Jax?" Billie rebukes with a lilt to her voice while repositioning her bag on her shoulder. Jax rubs his stomach and rolls his lips together, refusing to speak. "Don't want to talk, huh? Funny that. All right," she continues, "let's get inside and unload. We've gotta figure out prefight plans for you guys, and I still haven't gone over postfight contingencies."

Spinning toward the doorway, she gives Marcus a solid hip check, and he stumbles back against the storm door, allowing her to bolt past him and into the house. Marcus shakes his head and chuckles. "Freakin' missed her around here." He turns around to follow her, making sure Ethan has the door before letting go. Jax stands up to head inside. His face is a little red, but he's grinning all the same.

We enter right into a kitchen. It's dated with dark-brown solid wood cabinets and wainscotting offsetting the beige walls. The styling is classic, with quality finishes and granite countertops, and it's tidy. Marcus leads us through the living room, the space mostly filled with a large dark-blue L-shaped sectional and an old dark-green leather La-Z-Boy tucked into a corner near the bay window in front. There's a dark-gray and blue Ines area rug that stops a couple of feet from the wall that houses the stairs and where the flat-screen TV is attached. The front door is a few feet from the stairs, which are creaking and croaking with the thumping of our mate's feet bouncing up them. "Guys!" she hollers from another set of stairs. "Come up to the third floor!"

Marcus laughs and jerks his head to the stairs. "Come on, I'll show you up." With one hand on the bottom post of the railing, he points a finger over Jax's shoulder to a slightly ajar door in a short hallway between the living room and kitchen. "That's a three-quarter bathroom there."

We nod, and he starts ascending the stairs, which he has to do at an angle in order for his shoulders to fit through the narrow stairway without brushing the wall, which is covered with several framed photos. A quick glance has me leaning in catching pictures of what looks like a young Wilhelmina with Jimmy, Micky, and others. There are also some framed magazine covers with Micky on them from about two decades ago. My eyes widen, noticing one of them is Sports Illustrated . Shit, Micky really is a legend.

Marcus doesn't give me time to inspect further and keeps his upward ascent, wearing jeans and a green O'Sullivan's hoodie; it must be XXL and is still tight on his shoulders while loose on his waist. "The second floor has Micky's and Jimmy's rooms along with a full bathroom," he mentions, rounding the top of the first set of stairs and continuing down a short narrow hall to another staircase. When we reach the top, he stands to the right and turns to us. Pointing to the door on our left he says. "That's the guest room. You can drop your bags in there. I filled up an air mattress, and there are sheets, blankets, and pillows in addition to the full bed." Pausing, he brings his hands up in a defensive posture, and with wide eyes, he coyly smiles. "I'm not sayin' you gotta use it. I'm not sayin' you gotta sleep there. I was just doing what was asked of me." He then points down the hall in front of him. "Full bath down there, and. . ."

He's interrupted by Billie swinging open the solid-wood door behind him. Half hanging out of the doorway, she chirps "This is my room! Quick, get unloaded! We can figure out sleeping arrangements later!" She then rushes back into her room and hooks her phone up to a speaker while ripping her hoodie off and tossing it on the bed behind her. Her body is already bopping and bouncing while she searches through her phone. Soon "When Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J blasts through the speaker, and Billie jumps out of her room in just her black lace bra and jeans, bellowing out "Don't call it a comeback!" Then she proceeds to fist pump the air on her way down the hall to the bathroom.

"I'm glad to see she hasn't lost that infectious spirit of hers." Marcus chuckles while we all stare at her shimmying her hips, mumbling the lyrics, and washing her face in front of the bathroom sink with the door open.

"Definitely not," Jax affirms with a wide smile, his sparkling eyes on nothing but her.