Banging Reaper(27)

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What am I going to do? I don’t think I can go running back to Chase. Not after all the things I said to him. Not after realizing I’m not good enough for him.

I don’t have an answer right now so I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know, I’ll figure out something.”

“If you leave now it puts me in a bind.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I don’t want to put you in a bind. I didn’t know it was going to turn out this way.”

Ethan yanks up his sleeve and checks his watch again as if he’s worried he’ll late for something. He scowls then looks back at me. “Can you at least give me two weeks? I think two weeks notice is standard practice. I’ll need to find someone to take your place.”

I hesitate, about to shake my head and tell him no, sorry.

“Two weeks. Just two weeks, Avery,” Ethan asks me while leaning over the desk, his eyes now pleading me.

And, perhaps it’s because I already feel guilty for letting this crap between us go on as long as it has, or perhaps it’s because I still feel indebted to him for everything he’s done for me, going against my better judgement I relent.

“Two weeks,” I tell him and mean it. He’s got two weeks and that’s it.

Ethan smiles and sighs, obviously relieved. “Thanks, Ave. You’re a babe.”

I grimace but he doesn’t appear to be disturbed by it. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a set of keys.

“We need to head over to the gym.” He tosses the keys at me. “Do you mind driving?”





Chapter Twenty





Chase




Slipping into a routine now is far too easy and miserable at the same fucking time. I have gotten used to having Avery around my house. And I still have fucking cat hair everywhere! I miss the little furball, having him around was really cool too.

The only reason I didn’t get her a ring was because I didn't really have the time to go and look for one yet. The image of her hand in mine with wedding bands on them was a pretty strong one. I could see getting old with this girl.

“HEAD. OUT. OF. ASS!” bellows Dale as I am tossed to the floor by my sparring partner. Fucker has a grin on his face about a mile fucking long.

Dale stands outside of the practice cage ranting loudly as he clutches the chain link, his fingers turning white. “Two fucking weeks left! Two fucking weeks. AND. Every single week you start focused and turn to shit towards the fucking end because you can't keep your fucking head out of your own ass!”

I tune Dale out as I stand up and square off against Brett. He's an up and coming light heavyweight. Good guy and good fighter, but Dale is right, I have been fucking around too much with thinking about Avery. I start up our sparring exercises and remain focused on working with Brett.





***



I am giving Avery her space. I sent her a couple of texts over the last few weeks only making sure she is okay. It would fucking kill me if anything happened to her because I wasn't there to keep her safe.

The last one goes the exact same way as the only other one I’ve sent to her.



Me: Are you ok?



Avery: Yes.



I am dying to say I love you in each one of them, but I haven't. I want to so badly. But I don't. I am keeping my word. I will give her the space she needs.

Training has been going well despite all the ranting Dale has been doing. I think he's stressed out that I am upset about something beyond fighting. Not that he or I can fix the situation. It's in her hands right now. But I don't know for how much longer. I will only wait for so long before I go back to her apartment, break down her door and try to drag her home, bringing the furball with me.

I haven't heard anything from Ethan except the same rhetoric he has been spewing since he was given a rematch shot. He was cheated, he has to take me down to show who’s the king of the cage. I am scared of him, I got lucky. Same shit, just over and over again.

I think the fighting media has even gotten tired of his whiney voice.

We have to cut some promos in next week about the fight coming up and I just do not have the patience for it. I want to talk some shit back, not with pitiful words but with my fucking fists.

I am going to punish the little fucker. I haven't seen Avery in over two months. I haven't felt her warm body in my bed. I haven't been able to pin her down on the mattress and fuck both of our brains into the fucking oblivion this whole fucking time. I haven't heard her voice, this has been fucking hell and miserable.

Before Avery, I wasn't the best of people. I was the quintessential bad boy. I filled the lonely spots in my life with lots of women and lots sex. Most of the women I was with were there for a little while, and then gone once they figured out I wasn't a free ride and training came first. Well hell, I think I even told most of them that training would always come before them.

The house is empty now, most of the guys who were always stopping by to hang out are gone now. I just don't have the state of mind to party. I was beginning to think I liked the idea of settling down with Avery. I liked movie nights and cuddling on the couch while Sebastian snoozed on our laps. Shit, I was even getting ready to give up the bachelor look in the living room and have Avery help decorate the home she would be living in.

My days are filled with training and my nights are filled with either working on the house or harassing Dad. I’ve taken up repainting the house, something I’ve always put off, something I could never find the time for. Well now I’ve got fucking time. I’ve got time to paint. Time to think. Time to drive myself fucking crazy. This shit is killing me. I fucking miss Avery.

Her hair is everywhere.





Chapter Twenty-One





Avery




I wish Chase would stop texting me and asking me if I’m okay. Every time he does, I’m far too tempted to ask him to come back. Far too tempted to tell him I’m a dumbass and I don’t deserve him but I want him. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for being an ungrateful bitch. But I don’t tell him that because that would be selfish of me to do.

Especially since what was supposed to be only two weeks working for Ethan has somehow morphed into six.

I can’t find another job. Lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve put in applications across the city, anywhere and everywhere I can but no one is calling me. Ethan must somehow be behind it. He must be doing something to sabotage me, but I have no evidence to prove it, nothing but a gut feeling. It just makes no sense. I’ve applied everywhere, for anything and everything. I have absolutely no problem cleaning toilets or walking dogs. Whatever Ethan is doing, he’s insured that I’m stuck with him. It sucks.

Working for Ethan, it’s not awful in and of itself, it just feels weird. I rarely have to do anything business related. He has me doing mostly small errands such as taking messages that come through the phone he gave me and picking up his coffee and dry cleaning. Mostly though Ethan requests I spend my time with him assisting him in the gym and watching him train.

I feel like a traitor doing it even though we’ve been friends before I ever heard of Chase. There’s just something about watching Ethan train for his match against Chase that eats at my soul. Like I’m literally selling out. So every time Ethan asks me to go to the gym with him I try to find a way out of it.

Today he wasn’t buying my I have a headache excuse. He needs me to bring him his favorite blue hoodie he left in his office then he needs me to drive him home when he’s finished this evening. So, until I can find something else that will pay me enough to make rent, I have to do what he asks of me. I drive the company car he’s assigned me over to his office, pick up the hoodie he left right next to some chick’s nasty panties on the floor and drive it over to the gym.

“Avery,” Ethan greets me with a smile as I walk through the gyms door. “Watch this!”

He does his one armed pushup trick and I do my best to smile and pretend I’m impressed. I’m not.

“That’s awesome,” I say and walk over to my usual bench. I wave his hoodie at him and take a seat.

“I’m up to fifteen,” Ethan grins, hopping to his feet. He grabs a towel, wipes the sweat from his face and walks over to me. “Thanks for picking up my hoodie, you’re the best.”

I reach down and grab his water bottle, handing it up to him. We’ve made a little routine of this. “No problem,” I fib and check my phone for the time. “How late are you planning on staying tonight?”

“You got plans tonight?” Ethan asks without answering me.

I nod, glancing up at him. “Yeah, I’ve got to study.” I always have to study.

“Study while I finish up. Then we can grab some dinner.”

I make a face and he laughs. I hate trying to study here. It stinks, it’s noisy, and distracting. And no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get comfortable. Ethan is supposed to be training but it feels like his eyes are always watching me, especially when I’m trying to focus on whatever book I have in my lap. And when I put my headphones in to drown out the noise, I swear he’s talking about me to his friends that hang around like groupies.

Ethan drops his hand to my shoulder and gives me a little squeeze. I bite my lip to keep from slapping his hand away. “You know, I could cut out early for you.”