Chapter Nine

Chapter NineMigraines were proof of the devil’s existence. Nobody would ever convince me differently. Anyone who disagreed with my theory had likely never experienced one.People tended to think they were simply bad headaches, so the word ‘migraine’ was thrown around quite lightly. No, headaches didn’t drag on for several days accompanied by things such as body aches, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, a tender scalp, the chills, and an extreme sensitivity to light, sound, and odors.Thanks to my current migraine, I’d been useless for days. For me, the latter stage—referred to by many as a hangover—usually lasted only a day or two. But this time, it had stretched out for three, and so I still felt like an absolute bag of shit.I was drained, achy, tired, and had total brain fog. Which meant I wouldn’t be going to the Vault with Cole tonight. I had let him know by text earlier, explaining my situation. He’d advised me to get some rest.That was it.Not that I thought he didn’t care at all. But it was disappointing that he evidently wasn’t as bothered as I was that we’d be missing time together. I’d been looking forward to it all week. It had been my shiny light at the end of the migraine tunnel.Worse, I wouldn’t see Cole again until next weekend. I’d probably be back to normal by tomorrow, but he’d be busy in the evening—not usual for him on Saturdays, but not rare—so we wouldn’t be going to the Vault together.I inwardly moaned, cuddling my cushion closer to my chest as I lay on my side on my sofa watching TV. I missed him. A lot. Moreso than I was comfortable with.I blamed him for that. If he’d only be a bit of a knob, I wouldn’t be having this issue. But he treated me so wonderfully even as he held himself slightly apart from me.I absently reached up and touched the infinity pendant. In the past two weeks since I’d first worn the collar for him, he’d taken what could be interpreted as another baby step—he’d begun texting me whenever he felt like it. Sometimes to say good morning. Sometimes to share something mundane with me. Sometimes to say goodnight.But still, the boundaries of our arrangement remained firmly in place.It occurred to me that this might be karma giving me a bitch slap. Because I was now in Ryland’s position, wasn’t I? He’d wanted more from me than I’d agreed to give, and he’d held back on saying anything until recently—meanwhile, he’d had to pretend it didn’t bother him that I’d kept an emotional distance from him.It would be so easy to become bitter in such a situation. So easy for the hurt and uncertainty to warp into something ugly. That said, I didn’t think I’d ever come to resent Cole over his need for solid boundaries. I didn’t believe I had it in me to feel any such negative emotions toward him. But if it transpired that I was wrong, I would walk away before any spite that I grew to feel could bleed out onto him. Otherwise, it would be like punishing him for a personal choice that he had every right to make.How would that be fair, when he’d been painfully honest with me about what he did and didn’t want from the very beginning?Hearing my phone beep, I reached forward and retrieved it from the coffee table. The message was from Cat: Feeling any better?I typed: Hangover is still alive and kicking, but at least the head pain has gone. You finished spewing up your guts yet? I added a green-faced emoji.I haven’t done any hurling since last night. Hate vomiting.Were there carrots in it?Chunky ones.I smiled.Before I could respond, she sent another text: I don’t even know where they came from, I haven’t eaten any carrots in the past few days.I still think you should see a doctor.An emoji of an eye rolling face popped up followed by: Like I told Danton, it’s just one of those 24hr viruses. I’m feeling better already. Sorry you’re not. She added a row of purple hearts.I’ll be fine by tomorrow. I reached for my can of Coke, grimacing when I felt how light it was. The thought of trudging to the kitchen to grab another did not fill me with joy. I didn’t often drink it, but I’d found it helped my migraines.My phone beeped again.After downing the last of my drink, I swiped my thumb over the screen to light it up … and promptly realized that the new message wasn’t from Cat, it was from Cole.It simply read: Let me in.I blinked. What the—A knock came at the front door.I tensed. No, it couldn’t be him surely. I placed both my phone and Coke back on the table, heaved my tired self off the sofa, and then padded to the door. I pulled it open … and there he was, holding two shopping bags.I could only stare at him, shocked. Up until now, he’d pointedly avoided entering the complex. And now here he was, standing outside my apartment.His brows drew together as he drank me in. He walked inside, closed the door behind him, and strode right into my personal space. “Christ, baby, you look—”“Like shit, I know.” I was still too stunned to see him to even fret over how utterly undesirable I must look right now—no makeup, my hair in a messy ponytail, my body bundled up in baggy sweats.His eyes fixed on my choker, and his frown eased slightly. He slid an arm around my shoulders and brushed a kiss over my forehead. “I don’t like seeing you so drained.”“How did you get into the building?”“I bumped into Briar outside. She let me in.”The minx could have given me a heads-up. “You didn’t say you were coming.”“I wanted to surprise you.”Well, he’d succeeded. “Not to sound unwelcoming, but why are you here?”He pulled back the arm he’d draped over my shoulder and brushed a stray curl away from my face. “Because I want to be here.” He lifted his bags. “I come baring gifts.”My brows hiked up in interest. “Gifts? What kind of gifts?”“Those that are high on carbs.”Every cell in my body perked right up.“My mother has migraines. When the hangover sets in, she binges on carbs and Coke—which I also brought in case you had none.”He was a total gem. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but I’m real glad you did. You’re welcome to stay awhile, but I won’t make great company.”“I’m not looking for you to entertain me, Iz. I’m here to baby you a little.”That sounded somewhat intriguing. “What exactly does that entail?”“Mostly keeping you watered and fed so you don’t have to move. Oh, and head massages.”I melted into him. “I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them you have a sweet side.”“It’s doubtful,” he agreed, looping an arm around my waist.“So. Carbs?”He chuckled, slowly and carefully backing me into the living area. His gaze took one quick scan of the room before he led me to the sofa and urged me to sit down beside him. When he pulled a box of cupcakes out of a bag I swear I almost teared up. Oh, he was one fabulous motherfucker.I practically inhaled the first cake, completely unashamed. He only smiled, his eyes lighting with what could have been affection—the light was gone too fast for me to be sure.He draped an arm over my shoulders as I busily munched on cake number two. “How often do you have migraines?” he asked, gently playing with my hair.“Usually only once every two or three months. What about your mum?”“She typically has one a month.”I paused in chewing. “Then she has my sympathy. Do you see much of her? It’s just that I get the impression you’re not at all close to your dad. I wondered if maybe it was different with her.”“I’m not close to either of them. Or to any of my other relatives, for that matter. It’s why you’ll never see them at my ringside during fights.”I frowned, eating the last chunk of my cake. “None of them are ever there to support you?”He shook his head. “They’ve never attended one. My mom’s side doesn’t approve of boxing as a profession—they believe it’s no better than making money in pit fights. My dad’s side of the family, all of whom are soccer fanatics, follow his lead.”Oh, God, how horrible must it be for him to be stood in a ring again and again, fighting for belt after belt, taking punch after punch … and having no one from his family cheering him on? “I take back what I said before. Your mum does not have my sympathy.”His face went all lazy and warm. He gently tapped the tip of my nose. “So sweet. Don’t feel bad for me. I wouldn’t want her or any of the others there, because I’d know that their support was fake. Truth is I’d be pissed if my dad ever turned up.”I gratefully took the can of Coke he opened for me. “I don’t understand how he can’t support you just because you went your own way in life.”“He was lost after he retired, which is why he started disappearing in bottles of whiskey. He doesn’t know who he is without soccer.”I sipped at my Coke, feeling it fizz on my tongue. “He wanted to live it again through you,” I surmised.Cole dipped his chin. “And he hates that I don’t crave his pride so much that I’d choose to follow in his footsteps. He takes that as a personal jab. Maybe I would have gone down the road he chose for me if I’d respected him. But I don’t. Never did.”Who could blame him? I took another sip of my Coke and then set it on the table. “I’m sorry your family is like a cactus.”“What?”“Full of pricks.”A low chuckle rumbled out of him. “Apt description,” he said, holding out yet another cupcake, which I happily took from his hand.I bit into my cake. “Your dad sounds like the worst of them all.”“He is.” The humor leeched out of Cole’s expression. “I sometimes worry I’m a little too much like him. I might not be a drunk who cheats and beats on women, but I focus on myself. I prioritize my own wants and needs. I neglect the social aspects of my life in favor of working toward my goal. He was that way. I guess we’re all a product of our environment to some degree.”I frowned. “You’re nothing like him. I’ve never met him, no. But I don’t believe for a single second that you’d be so lost without boxing that you’d turn into a complete twat. And there’s nothing wrong with how focused you are on your career. Most pro athletes make the sacrifices you make. It’s normal.”“A lot are also married or in relationships.”“Because they found someone who’d support their dedication to their goal rather than resent it.” I bit into my cake again. “My guess is that your mum wasn’t supportive of your dad, and so you feel it’s likely that your own partner will have the same difficulties with you. Am I right?”“You are,” he conceded, not looking too happy that I’d read him well.“I get that none of your exes supported you and it’s fed your belief that it’s a lost cause, but you’ll find someone you care for who will. You’ll find yourself in a relationship that, unlike your previous ones, matters to you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be as invested in that relationship as you are in your career. Because that’s who you are. A person who gives their all to something that matters to them. You’ll one day see that I’m right—it might be soon, it might be in ten years, it might be more. And then you’ll be thinking, ‘Huh, Izzy was right.’”It hurt to think that he might have that future with another woman, but I didn’t let it show on my face. Instead, I took another bite of my cupcake, sinking my teeth into it a little harder than necessary. Realizing he was looking at me funny, I frowned again. “What?” Because I couldn’t read his expression.His lips pursed, he shook his head. “Nothing.” He patted the space between his legs. “Come sit here.”I gladly did so, leaning back against his chest. That chest might be packed with pure hard muscle but it was not whatsoever uncomfortable to prop myself up on.He removed my scrunchie, freeing my curls. I groaned as his fingers delved into my hair. They kneaded and glided over my scalp just right. “You are so good with your hands.”His chuckle was wolfish.“I didn’t mean it that way. Though they are also very good in that context.”“I’m glad you like them.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “I love getting my hands on your hair.”“You wouldn’t like it so much if you were the one who had to style it.” Having a head of ringlets could be a bloody nightmare at times.“One day, I’m going to wrap a bunch of these curls around my cock while you lick and suck on the head. Maybe I’ll come in your mouth, or maybe I’ll jerk off with your hair still curled around my dick and then blow my load all over it.”I did a slow blink, my belly fluttering. “That’s quite a fantasy.”He shrugged. “I did warn you that I could develop an obsession with your hair.”“I kind of have an obsession with your back muscles.”A surprised laugh bubbled out of him.“I don’t know why it is, or what it says about me, but they make me all tingly.”He hummed, nuzzling my hair. “I like it when you’re all tingly.”“Hey, me too.” If I wasn’t so sapped of energy, I’d have been hoping we could both get tingly tonight. But I literally had nothing in me.“Have you decided when you’re going back to London?”Well that question came out of left field. Hearing the far too casual note in his voice gave me hope that just maybe he wouldn’t feel entirely indifferent toward my answer. “I was actually thinking of not going. As in ever.”Cole briefly paused in massaging my hair. “Ever?” he echoed.“Yes. I’ve reached a point in my life where I want to settle somewhere. I have a house in London, but it doesn’t feel like home. Not the way Redwater does. I’d like to base myself here.”I wished I could see his face, curious as to if my news had at all affected him. But maybe it was best that I couldn’t see his expression. If it turned out that he was utterly unmoved by it, that would be a swift kick to the gut.“You’ll be far from your family,” he pointed out, his tone too even for my liking. “You might not find that easy.”“Maybe not. But if I later discover that living here doesn’t suit me, I can always relocate. They travel a lot anyway, so it doesn’t seem worth remaining in London to be near them when they’re often gone.”“Good point. There’s no harm in giving it a go, then.”“Exactly.” It would have been nice if he’d encouraged me to stay, but whatever.“Personally, I don’t think you’d stay in London even if you did return.”“Why?”“You seem happy here. You don’t act like a visitor. You have your own tribe of people. You’re already settled in Redwater, really. By moving here, you’d just be making it official. And as I’ve said before, this place has a way of pulling people back. So, yeah, I believe you’ll end up permanently setting up shop here. And then you’ll be thinking, ‘Huh, Cole was right.’”I chuckled, but it was forced. Because I didn’t get the sense that he cared much one way or the other if I did stay. As if it would have no bearing on his situation or future. Which meant that Briar and I could well be wrong. He didn’t want more. Or if he did, he didn’t want to feel that way and so intended to shove it aside.My gut twisted. One thing was for certain. There was a negative to relocating to Redwater—if we parted ways, I’d have no way to avoid him. It was inevitable that we’d see each other at the Vault. More, we’d see each other with other people. That thought was enough to make my belly do a slow roll.I wasn’t going to think like that, though. No. I was going to continue with my plan to give him a little time rather than write the situation off as hopeless. If that made me a dreamer, so be it.After a few hours of talking and watching TV, we ordered pizza for tea—well, he called it ‘dinner,’ being American—which again fed my craving for carbs.It was as we were sitting beside each other on the sofa later on, when 10pm came crawling by, that he said, “I want to stay.”Feeling my brows inch up, I angled my head to meet his gaze. “You mean here overnight?”“Yes. I don’t want to leave you alone while you’re feeling so drained. I’d like to stay. Is that going to be a problem?”Kind of, since the memory of him lying in my bed would haunt me a little if we did later part ways. But … I didn’t want him to go. “Only if you snore. I’m a light sleeper.”“I don’t snore, as far as I know.”“Then you may stay.”Going through the regular nighttime routine with him felt … nice. Too nice, really. What felt even better was his big, warm, solid body curled around mine in bed.Yeah, the memory would torment me for certain if things didn’t work out the way I hoped. And yet, I still didn’t want him to leave. I still wanted to go to sleep right here in his arms.You’re an idiot, Izzy. An absolute bloody idiot.