Page 50 of Fighting Fate

You don’t deserve him.

The words replay in my head as my throat swells, making it hard to breathe with the brine of my tears burning the back of my nose and eyes. It’s the constant thing I’ve told myself over the last few weeks that Rory and I have spent together. I’ve done everything I can to protect myself from the reality of our fling, but in the end, it’s impossible to protect myself from my own heart. The silly thing is putting itself back together around him.

“I’ll never be yours either.” Before I fall apart in front of him, I leave, chasing the steps down two at a time through my tear-blurred vision to get to the fresh air as quickly as I can.

I’m ready to go home and sleep off the cramps that have been on and off all day. I’m certain my body is telling me to give it a break.

Maybe that’s exactly what I need. Things with Rory are getting too comfortable. Far too steady for a bit of fun. Even so, the thought of seeing him now eases the tension from the encounter with Peter.

As if he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone buzzes with his name shining back at me.

“Hey,” Rory greets me the second I answer. The sound of his voice is enough to make me smile through my tears.

Doing everything I can to keep my voice level and normal, I greet him back. “Hey yourself.”

The dam of held breath that I’m using to hold back the tears threatens to burst in the beat of silence that follows. All I can do is listen to Rory’s steady breaths on the other end of the line, and when a vacant taxi comes my way, I wave it down, pausing by a bin to discard the letters in my handbag before I get in. I already have enough things to make me feel shitty without adding hate from strangers who know nothing about me to it.

“What’s wrong?” Rory asks me, concern darkening the tone of his voice. I can imagine his warm chocolate eyes blackening with a scrunch of his brows and a tight purse of his lips.

Before I reply, I give the driver Dorian’s address. I don’t want to go back to my place right now. The thought of being alone only sets me more on edge. Besides, I know I’m guaranteed a distraction at her place.

“Willow…babe…” Rory rumbles down the line. “What’s up?”

“No-nothing. Shitty day.” Inhaling deeply, I force myself to relax into my seat. “Nothing rest won’t fix.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” I insert as much lightness as I can into my reply, but it still sounds flat. So I try adding a quip to make it sound more like the me he’s used to. “You know…someone is keeping me up all night, and it’s catching up to me.”

A deep laugh rumbles down the line, making me smile at the sound. “I have no regrets.”

Not yet.

“Wanna grab something to eat together?” he asks softly. “I have an extra-early training session tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I got that circuit fight with Johnson coming up fast, and Taylor wants to up the ante. Eyes will be on my performance to gauge how the fight with Lucasz will go down.”

“Well…ummm…it’s not like you lack stamina.”

A throaty chortle rumbles from him before he tells me, “Aww, that’s so sweet. Still, stamina aside, Taylor will ruin my ass if I don’t turn up to training tomorrow with a full night’s sleep under my belt.”

“Is that your way of telling me you only want to stuff my face today?”

“I mean…it’s not where I was going, but if that’s what you want…”

I realise too late the accidental double entendre of my remark. “Jesus Christ!”

“What’s he gotta do with it, doll?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a twat.”

“How am I a twat?” He laughs a little louder, clearly trying to rile me up. It’s working in a good way too. While we’re pushing and pulling and I’m busy coming up with retorts, I’m not thinking about other things.

“It’s not twot. It’s t-what.”

“Tomaytohs…tomahtoes.”

---