Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (31 page)

I could resist, but I’d only be ruining things for myself. Drake wants to try? Fine. I’ll let him. But I can’t make any promises. The sad truth is I’d much rather be with the guy who broke my heart years ago, than a guy that wants to break me for his sociopathic pleasure.

Drake helps me into the truck, and then tosses my suitcase in the back. I can feel him looking at me as I swipe my tears away. They still haven’t stopped falling.

He reaches forward, stroking his thumb across my cheek to get rid of the rest.

“What happened to you, Jenny?” I hear him ask softly, and it breaks my heart even more because the truth is, Drake didn’t do all of this.

He didn’t exactly make me this way. I made myself this way by trying to put a guard up, after being hurt and let down one too many times by the people I love.

I did this to myself. My past has defined me, leaving no room for a better future. I’m afraid I’ll never get better, but with Drake sitting beside me, watching me, I think I can get the help I need.

The help I’ve wanted for years.

When I was down in the past, Drake was my pick-me-up. My everything and more.

Maybe, since he’s trying, I should too.

Maybe I should just stop this internal war.

The old Jenny Roscoe still dwells, she’s just been buried somewhere deep beneath thick, rotten layers. She needs to dig her way out and breathe again.

She needs to recover. And if she does, things will be a whole lot better.

I have to try.

I must, for Mitchell’s sake, if not my own.

I can’t let these demons win.

W
e’re back
where my freak-out started—well, sort of.

I walk into Drake’s room, looking around again. Drake steps around me with my suitcase in hand. I watch as he walks towards the king-sized bed on the opposite side of the large penthouse suite.

He places it down in the corner and then turns to eye me. I look back at Preach, whose eyebrows shift up a bit before he spins around and shuts the door.

I know this time, even if I wanted to, I can’t run away. I really won’t have a place to go now. I have no idea where Kylie is, and I can’t keep interrupting her time with Oscar.

They have something budding again.

This is Las Vegas, for Christ’s sake. I can’t keep pulling her away from the endless fun, though I am kind of jealous that she’s enjoying herself so much more than I am.

“You look tired,” Drake says, as he comes closer. His steps are cautious and precise. He looks me over before focusing on my eyes. “You can lay down if you want.”

I raise my chin, looking towards the bed. It looks so damn comfortable, covered with a gold sheets and a fluffy white comforter. Drake extends a hand, his other arm hanging at his side.

“Do you want me to leave? Get you another room?”

I frown. “No. I have a room.”

“So why aren’t you in it?”

I snatch my gaze away and walk around him to sit on the edge of the bed. He turns sideways and I can feel him watching me.

I don’t look his way. Instead, I stare out of the wide window. The city lights are bright, the shuttle running by. I can see the imitation of the Eiffel tower from here.

“Do you have any bourbon or whiskey in that mini fridge?” I point at it with my thumb.

He drops and shakes his head sideways. Sighing, Drake walks in my direction and sits in the chair with the ottoman that’s right across from me.

“Jenny, look at me,” he murmurs.

But I don’t. I continue to look out of the window, running my fingers through my hair.

“Jenny.”

I don’t respond. Instead I turn and look at my red suitcase, as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world right now.

Drake releases an agitated breath and then he pushes out of his chair. I finally look at him and he’s taking off his baseball cap. He kicks his shoes off, pulls his shirt over his head, and then walks around the bed to get to the right side.

I peer back, watching as he moves fluidly, pulling the comforter down. God, that body of his. It never fails to amaze me.

He’s cut and ripped in all the right places. The tattoos only enhance the sex appeal that I am failing miserably to ignore.

He sits down in his jeans and then leans against the headboard. Crossing his ankles, he rests the back of his hands behind his head and then looks over at me.

I can’t be in the same room as him. Good lord, just look at him! Even though I want to pretend I want nothing to do with him, I think I would still find myself touching him during the middle of the night.

“You laying down, or what?”

“No.” I toy with a lock of my hair. “I’ll wait for Kylie to call me.”

He scoffs and I look back. “I think the last thing on Kylie’s mind is you right now, Jenny.”

“She said she was coming.”

“You really think she will? If she’s taking anyone back to her hotel room, it’s Oscar. You know it, too.”

My lips pinch together and I drop my line of sight to my lap. Drake sighs.

“I won’t hurt you, and you know it. Stop pretending I’m some stranger.”

I study the bed, and then how content he is. “I can’t share this bed with you.”

“Who said you’d have to share?” He uncrosses his legs and sits up. “I have a few things to do tonight.”

“So why’d you get undressed?”

“I have to change clothes.” He stands from the bed. I watch him walk to the closet, pulling down an outfit.

I shouldn’t care, but I ask anyway. “Where are you going?”

“A club.”

“A club?”

He glances over his shoulder. “Yes. A club. They’re celebrating the win. They want me to make an appearance.”

“Oh.” I look away.

I hear him step closer. “I don’t have to. I can stay here with you.”

“No—no. You should go. This is your life now, right?” I force a laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah it’s my life, but I still do whatever the fuck I want. This club thing isn’t mandatory.”

I smile a little. He hangs the outfit on the closet door and then comes back to sit beside me. He smells good. I get a whiff of his cologne and the urge to pull him in closer just to inhale his scent plays tricks with my mind, but I resist.

“How about you come with me?”

“No—Drake, I shouldn’t. Really.” I gesture at my clothes. “Look at me. I look terrible.”

“You look just as beautiful as any other time.” His green eyes lock on mine.

My throat thickens and my belly heats up. I focus on my manicured fingernails. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I left all of my good clothes hanging in the hotel room I shared with Shane. I don’t want to go back.”

He squares his shoulders, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “Why not?”

I half-shrug. “I just don’t want to see him.”

“Did he do something to you? Is that why you started crying?” His voice is deeper now. Angrier.

I shake my head and give a dismissive wave of my hand. “No, Drake. I just don’t want to go back there right now.”

“Argument?”

“Something like that.”

His shoulders relax. He then stands and walks to the door. When he opens it, I hear him say something to Preach. They mumble back and forth, and then Drake shuts the door, walking back in my direction.

Unbuttoning his jeans, Drake steps out of them and then steps in front of me. Heat creeps through my veins as he grabs my hands and helps me up. I watch his face carefully, how sincerity runs deep in those bright green eyes.

He guides me towards the head of the bed and pulls the comforter and sheet down.

“Get comfortable,” he murmurs.

I sit on the bed, and he lifts the comforter a little more to place my legs beneath them. He then walks towards the light switch by the door, flipping it off. The room is dim now, but I can still make him out from the flashing Vegas lights.

Drake comes back, his broad shoulders swaying. I focus on the V below his abs, the tattoos that stain his skin. He climbs into bed beside me, making himself comfortable.

“What are you doing?” I ask rapidly.

“Going to sleep. Same thing you should do.”

“Drake, I can’t—”

“Jenny, just stop. Relax, all right? I won’t do anything. I won’t touch you. We’re just sleeping. Okay?”

I swallow thickly. “But what about the club?”

“I’m not going.”

“Why not? They’ll be expecting you.”

He laughs, and it’s light. Weary. “This wouldn’t be the first time I missed an event I was supposed to show up for.”

“Seriously. You don’t have to stay here for me. I’m fine.”

He sighs, and I assume he’s tired of arguing with me, because he sits up and places a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to lie down. I stare up at him, studying his mouth and how close it comes to mine.

His eyes bore into mine. “There. How’s that feel?”

I continue studying his sculpted lips. “Good… I guess.”

“Comfortable?”

I nod way too quickly for my liking. “Yes.

“Good.” He pulls away and lies back down. “Then get some sleep. We both need it.”

He turns his back to me. The room becomes completely dark, but the city lights coming in through the window give me some leeway.

I can see his back. I hear him huff and he pulls the comforter over his shoulder, concealing his tan skin.

I don’t know why this bugs me. I thought he’d put up more of a fight—try and win me over in different ways.

I turn my back to his, staring out of the window.

And then…I smile. Because I’m lying in bed with Drake Davenport again. I can feel his aura, his warmth. I know he cares, but I also know he is capable of failing me once again.

I’ll sleep here, but I have to remind myself not to get in too deep. Once this trip is over, he’ll be gone and I’ll be gone, and I’m sure it will be like we never even ran into each other again.

Hopefully, this time, it won’t hurt as much.

A
round 1
:45 a.m. and Jenny is finally asleep.

She sleeps soundly, her back turned to me, her breaths even. I remember this—laying beside her in bed, watching her fall asleep before I would leave for my terrible third shift job at a scrap metal warehouse.

I miss the hell out of those days.

She draws in a deep breath and then turns over. She’s lying on her left side now, facing me. She looks peaceful when she’s asleep—like all of her worries have faded.

Sleeping, she looks like the old Jenny I knew well. I don’t know who this new Jenny is. She’s so damaged and lost now.

She wasn’t like this when I left. I know I broke some of her heart when I told her I was leaving, but there’s no way in hell she’s become this cold, broken alcoholic because of me.

I just can’t get down with that. There has to be more to the story and I swear, I will do whatever it takes to figure it out. Something happened to my Jenny. I will get answers out of her before my time in Vegas is over. I guarantee it.

Sighing, I stroke her hair, and she groans, still in a deep slumber.

I can’t stay in this bed with her. I’ll end up doing more than stroking her hair. I want to kiss her pouty lips until she wakes up, and when her eyes land on mine, I’d slide between her legs and express my apologies in the best way I know how.

But I can’t.

I promised I wouldn’t touch her tonight, but when she wakes up it will be a brand new day and I will make no promises. Because I have to touch her. I have to feel her. I
need
her.

I stop rubbing her hair and sit up, pushing out of bed. I grab my black hat and toss on the black T-shirt I wore earlier. When my jeans are buttoned and I have a pair of Nikes on, I grab my room key and cellphone and walk to the door.

I look back and Jenny has tossed herself over again, the comforter pulled up to cover half of her face. I know she won’t be awake anytime soon, so I walk out.

Preach is still standing guard in front of the door. I nod my head at him and he follows me down the hallway. I have to show my face at the damn club. If I don’t, I won’t hear the end of it from Leo.

I’ll stay for an hour, max. After that, I’m out of there.

* * *

“
W
ell
, that was a waste of my fucking time,” I mutter, as I jump into the truck.

Preach climbs into the front seat, laughing. “Leo didn’t say anything about it being a
strip
club.”

“Of course he didn’t, because he knew I wouldn’t have agreed to go.” I shake my head, running a hand through my hair after snatching off my baseball cap.

“Where to now, Mr. Davenport?” Bill asks.

“Back to the hotel.”

Bill nods, and I look at Preach. “Have you seen or heard from Otto and Oscar, Preach?”

He glances sideways. “Nah, I haven’t. You want me to call?”

“No.” Oscar is probably still with Kylie and there is no telling where the hell Otto is now.

I make it back to the Bellagio. When I’m inside I decide to take a seat at the bar. Preach sits at the end of it, not too far away in case something happens. It’s surprisingly empty at the counter.

There are a few people walking the gambling area, but not too many. Most of them are stopping at slot machines or at the poker and black jack tables for one last game.

I order a neat whiskey, and when the bartender hands me my glass, I study it.

I remember seeing Jenny drink that scotch, and it confuses the fuck out of me. The only time I drink whiskey or scotch is so I can catch a quick buzz, maybe numb out the noise I hear in my head. Is this why she drinks it?

What the hell is bothering this girl so much? I don’t get it.

After I’ve ordered my second glass, I hear someone grab the stool beside me. I look up to find a girl with blonde hair. Her eyes are like glass, her smile broad.

“Hi Doomsday.” She grins, and I press my lips to nod.

“Hey.”

“I don’t want to cause a scene. You seem to be taking some time for yourself and I totally understand that. For a moment, I didn’t know if it was you, but I remember that tattoo of the skull on the back of your arm. It looked familiar.” She waves a hand, and then slides a mini poster and a Sharpie my way. On the poster is a picture of me.

It’s a picture from the photo shoot I took exclusively for the Vegas fight. The poster that is all over this fucking city. God, I hate looking at it. I literally look like some kind of beast, and they brightened the color of my eyes by ten, so it looks like they’re glowing.

I look over at Preach. He looks at the girl oddly but I shake my head to let him know I’m good.

“Thanks for not causing a scene,” I say, picking up the Sharpie. I sign the top corner and she beams, taking the poster and the marker back.

“Of course! Thank you for signing. I’m hanging this on my wall as soon as I get back home.”

I smile, and she takes off. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for a picture. Now that would have brought some attention my way. I down my whiskey and the bartender comes back to ask me if I’d like another.

I shake my head, but that’s when I feel a hand clap my shoulder. I spin around, only to find Otto.

“There you fucking are!” His voice is loud. I lower my cap, shaking my head.

“Could you be any fucking louder?”

“Hey, man, I was looking for you in your hotel room but you weren’t there… but there was some chick in your bed.”

I roll my eyes. “Who let you in?”

“Rex. He didn’t know you left I guess.”

Otto sighs, and drops down in the seat beside me. I can feel him looking at me, but I avoid his gaze.

“So, tell me why the hell Jenny fucking Roscoe is laying in your bed, man? I gotta tell you, I’m surprised you meant her when you said someone was waiting.”

My eyes move over to him and he has the biggest fucking smile plastered on his face. He’s so fucking weird. “It was none of your business.”

“None of my business—holy shit.” He busts out laughing. “Hold on. Now I get it. You got all crazy after the fight because of her. You saw her, didn’t you?”

I groan and Preach comes our way. “Do I need to drag his ass upstairs?” Preach asks, a grin sweeping across his mouth.

“Please do.” I spin my glass around on the coaster, focusing on the dark gold liquid.

Otto laughs and when Preach takes the seat to my right, Otto leans in closer. “So… did you bone her again after all these years?”

“No, I didn’t bone her, dipshit. I let her sleep.”

“How fucking lame.” Otto waves for the bartender, ordering a beer. “I would have drilled her to the fucking bed.”

I try not to laugh. Honestly, it’s fucking useless. I think he’s the only person that can make me laugh even when I don’t want to.

“Anyway, have you seen my dick of a brother? I’ve been calling that prick all night.”

“He was at some bar with Kylie earlier but I haven’t seen him since.”

“Figures.” His brown eyes flicker up to the TV screen. “I don’t understand one thing. How are Jenny and Kylie here at the same time? Did Jenny agree to come too?”

I sigh. “I didn’t even know she was here until the fight.”

He still seems perplexed.

“From what Oscar told me, Jenny had already planned to come with some guy she
was
talking to and Kylie agreed to tag along, but was even more willing when she learned Oscar would be here.”

“So, Jenny didn’t know you would be here?”

“Apparently not. I’m sure if she had, she wouldn’t have come at all.”

“Then what the hell was she doing at the fight? And why is she with you now?”

“I don’t know why she decided to show up at the fight.” Otto looks at me with a frown. “I was surprised to see her there too. I convinced her to stay the night with me to talk.”

“Damn.” Otto chugs down most of his beer. “So… with Jenny. You’re gonna try and make it work again?”

I shrug. “She’s changed. A lot.” I huff a dry laugh. “She’s not the same Jenny we knew from high school.”

He tugs at his earlobe. “What do you mean?”

“She’s more reserved. Angrier. She drinks too much, and if she isn’t drinking, she’s talking about needing a drink. She’s just…different.”

“Damn, man.”

I press my lips, looking up at the TV screen. Talking about it pisses me off.

“You think it’s because of how you left?” Otto asks in a small voice, almost like he’s afraid to.

I focus on the bottles of liquor behind the bar, leaning back in my chair. “I hope not.”

He exhales. “Well, I know my advice to you isn’t worth shit, but I say make that shit work. Make her happy while you’ve got her. She’s obviously missing something if she depends on alcohol to be happy. Maybe that something is you, man.”

“I don’t know,” I mutter. My face pops up on the TV screen, a video of me going crazy after the fight, and I look away. It’s a clear reminder of how foolish I can get.

I know I can do dumb shit. I’ve hurt Jenny in the past—twice in a row. I didn’t show up when I said I would, and I know that’s left a crack on her heart. For years she’s been wondering why I didn’t, and I owe her more than an explanation.

I tug my cap down until it’s low on my forehead. “Maybe I am what she needs. Maybe I’m not.”

* * *

I
stay
down at the bar until it’s time for my interview. I have Preach go check on Jenny before I leave for the MGM and when he comes back he tells me she is still sleeping.

Good.

I want her to get all the rest she can because when I get back, we have a lot to talk about.

The interview is just like last night’s. They’re all asking the same damn questions.

Why did you get so wild after taking down The Slayer?

Will you fight him again?

Do you think you’re the better fighter?

How have you celebrated the win?

I’m not sure what the hell they really want me to say. I’m honestly tired of repeating myself, but this is my job, and Leo always hounds me about being “kind” in public.

It’s all bullshit. It’s for entertainment. As long as I’m beating someone’s ass in the cage, nothing else matters. Now, if I lose, that will be something for the press to gobble up. They’ll ask the dumbest question, and I don’t think playing nice will be in the picture for me. That’s why I have to win. I can’t afford to look stupid.

I’ve been fighting professionally in MMA for four years and I haven’t lost yet. I don’t plan on losing anytime during my career. But, like Grandma Marie always said, never say never.

I go straight back to my hotel after the interview and ten minute press conference. I ride up the elevator, surprised I’m not fucking drained.

These long nights are common. I don’t sleep as much as I used to. In fact, since Grandma Marie died, I haven’t had a full night’s rest.

I wish she were here now. I wish she could see me doing something that could have provided for both of us. No bills to worry about and definitely no need for Flex anymore.

Yeah, my twisted, stupid father. Now, that’s a story to fucking tell. I haven’t talked to him since I left Fox River. He’s not allowed at my fights. He’s not allowed near me. Period.

He has been calling at least once a month, probably begging for money.

I heard he’s been telling the fighters at the gym that I owe him money for not showing up for the ones he scheduled for me back then.

Fucking pig. He’ll never change, and that’s a damn shame.

I meet up to my door and slide the key in. But it’s as I walk in that I hear the TV is on. I step forward, spotting Jenny sitting on the middle of the bed with a tray of food in front of her.

On it, waffles, eggs, bacon, and a glass of orange juice. I close the door behind me and then fold my arms, smirking at her.

“Oh… um… I ordered room service,” she utters with a bashful grin. “I hope you don’t mind.” She winces, obviously in preparation for a smart remark from me. She has me all wrong.

“Not at all.” I walk in her direction, looking at the TV. She’s watching music videos. “You can order whatever you want as long as you’re here. I’m surprised you’re still around, to be honest.”