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“You broke my heart, Drake,” I whisper softly, and that causes his entire demeanor to change. He straightens his back. He doesn’t blink as he studies me and takes in the raw truth.
When his head bows with shame, I climb out of the truck.
“Wait for me,” Drake calls, but I’m already walking down the alley. I can see Preach standing at the door. Bill is right behind me, and when Preach nods his head, Bill turns and jogs back to the truck.
I glance back when I make it up to Preach. Bill drives by, Drake’s window is still rolled down, and his green eyes spark as ours lock.
Sincerity.
Frustration.
Anger.
Regret.
It’s all there, swirling deep in those eyes.
When the SUV is gone, I look up at Preach. “Hey. It’s me again.”
He smirks. “Good to see you again…Jenny.”
I look at him through narrow eyes. “How long have you known my name?”
“Four years.”
“Four years? Really?”
Preach shrugs as he leads the way down a vacant hallway. “Started working for Doom four years ago. From day one on the job I’ve been hearing your name floating around. The twins get on him about you a lot.”
“Oh. I’m surprised he hasn’t forgotten all about me with all he’s doing now.”
Preach crosses his arms. “Doom cares about you. You shouldn’t be so hard on him.” He throws his hands in the air defensively when I scowl up at him. “Just saying.”
I feel bad, I do, but I’ve been thinking about that day Drake didn’t show up for years, and even the time when he came late at night and then told me he was leaving.
All I could wonder then was, how he could be so selfish? Why he couldn’t try to work something out with me?
He wanted to break things off cold turkey. He was grieving, yes, but so was I. My boyfriend had gone missing for an entire week and I had no idea how to find him.
He left me out there alone. All I wanted to do was help.
What made him slip through the cracks? What made him want to just forget about what we had and move on? I need to know it all. Now that we are older, I want it all to add up and make sense.
So maybe MMA does have something to do with it… but why didn’t he just say that? Why not inform me?
If he loved me so much, why didn’t he fight just as hard for me as he does in those cages?
That last question is what I really need to know.
Doomsday may be a beast, but his heart is like a butterfly. It’s gentle. It’s kind. It’s beautiful, but it is also wild.
You never know what it might do next. One minute it loves you, remains right on the tip of your finger and reveals its beautiful wings, and then the next, it flutters away, off in the distance, never to be seen again.
Chapter 29
Drake
“OH MY GOD! IT’S HIM! IT’S DOOMSDAY!” The voice that screams is shrill, and as soon as my name is up in the air, all eyes are on me.
Cameras flash in an instant.
Smart phones make clicks and shutter noises.
Girls scream, bouncing up and down in their short dresses.
Men cheer me on, pumping their fists, knowing I would win.
Arms are extended, and I toss a light wave as usual, signing a few autographs here and there. I don’t have much time. I need to make it up to the hotel before Jenny ends up thinking too much and decides to leave.
“Hey, Doomsday! Great fight tonight,” a reporter calls from my left, pushing through the crowd to keep up with me.
“Thanks, man.”
“Hey—what was all that—oomph—stuff after you knocked The Slayer out? Were you making a statement to his fans?” The reporter continues to stumble just to catch up.
Hmm.
That’s a good excuse. Maybe they’ll get off my back about it if I use that one.
I see Leo standing at the entrance, swiping a leveled hand across his neck in the dead man’s gesture.
I shouldn’t answer that question.
How the fuck can he even hear? Maybe he can’t, but knows what the guy is asking about.
“Doomsday! Think you can answer me? We loved how you handled that knockout! You won the championship belt. You get to celebrate tonight. What are your plans anyway?”
Talk to Jenny Roscoe. Tell her everything I went through and admit my mistakes.
“Probably party… drink. Gamble. I don’t know yet,” I mumble.
The reporter finally makes it to the doors and catches his breath. “Do you think The Slayer will want a rematch next season?”
I scoff. “I honestly don’t give a shit if he does or not.”
“And why’s that?” the reporter asks, practically shoving his phone in my face. It’s recording everything.
I stop walking, glancing at Leo. He shakes his head, waving his hands for me to reel it in.
