Page 109 of 1 Last Shot

"I want to deserve you," I admit in broken voice, pulling back slightly. "I know I'm not even close to being good enough for you, but for the first time in my life, I want to be. I don't want to be a fuckup anymore, I don't want to be hated by my coach, or my teammates, or random fucking people in a bar. I'm sick of being broken. And you deserve to be with someone amazing, someone who could take over the world and leave it at your feet. Someone who—"

She cuts me off with a kiss. I let out a sound of surprise, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her closer to deepen the contact.

But she pulls back slightly before I can do that, putting just enough space between us to whisper against my lips, "I already have someone amazing."

I shudder at her confession. And then I feel it—hope begins to bloom in my chest. Hope that, even if I don't believe it myself yet, thatshedoes, and that one day, I can feel the same way.

"I know you've had a hard life," she says. "I know you've seen and experienced things that no one should ever have to go through, and I know they've made you a little hard against the world. But Kane, that doesn't mean you'rebroken. It just means you had to load up with more armor than the rest of us. And I don't care that we might have to spend a little extra time creating a safe environment for you. This isn’t your 1 last shot to get it right, this is ustrying,every day. And some days will be good, and some will be bad, but every day, we keep fighting. Together. Because I would rather live inyourworld, withyourarms around me andyourheart against my palm, than anywhere else. I wantyou, Kane. Never doubt that."

For a moment, I can only stare at her, my awestruck gaze roving over her face. Then I take a deep breath to gather the rest of my courage, and I take that first step toward being the man I want to be. For Isabella. Forme.

"Okay," I whisper. "Then I'm yours, Isabella."

34

KANE

Over the next few days, I settle into a routine.

Making my peace with Isabella and with my own personal demons doesn't mean I suddenly have a perfect life, but it brings a level of calmness to my days.

I stop taking the closing shifts so I can instead spend my nights asleep next to Isabella. I wake up with Oscar wedged between us at the foot of the bed. Some days I let him crawl up the bed and cuddle Isabella, but other days I trick him out of the bedroom with the promise of a treat just so I can spend the morning buried between Isabella's legs.

By the time I can finally pull myself away from her, she's usually cutting it close getting to one of the million classes she either has to take or teach. Which leaves me to hang out with Oscar for a few hours before going to the gym and getting my workout in, then heading to the strip club to work for the night.

I wasn't sure if it was going to be weird with Jax after the jail thing, but in a way, it was almost comforting to have a worry like that. It meant we hadsomekind of relationship.

I still get the daily nod, the only difference is… I nod back.

A few days after Jax and Hailey bailed me out of jail, it's the day of the week when we spend the entire hour sparring. I assume I'm still confined to heavy bag workouts, so I reach for my bag gloves.

"Kane, go with Remy for a round."

My head jerks up in surprise. I shoot Jax an incredulous look, then turn toward Remy in confusion.

"Dude…" Tristan says through gritted teeth.

Jax keeps his attention on me as he waves his friend off. "She'll be fine."

Tristan's brow furrows in confusion. But he must trust his friend enough to not push it further, because eventually, he turns his attention to me.

His blue eyes trained on me, his stare promises every bit of the savagery that I've seen him be capable of. His voice is hard as he says only, "If you hurt her, I'll fucking kill you."

A few weeks ago, I would have flown off the handle at the threat. UFC fighter or not, I would have gotten in his face and dared him to try.

But… I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want to be defined by my anger, or my fists. I don't want to be offended by Tristan's accusation—one that's true if he's going by what he's known up until this moment—and I don'twantto hurt Remy.

So instead of reacting, I merely nod at Tristan and start to wrap up my gloves.

Coach appears in front of me as I’m stretching out.

“You good?” he asks.

I automatically give a quick nod. But then I look across the room and see Remy warming up, and Tristan murmuring something to her, and the rest of the fighters standing around the cage, waiting for us to start. And I realize something.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I finally admit on a cracked whisper.

It kills me to say that out loud. Butwantingto be a better person andactuallybeing a better person are two different things. Not wanting to hurt Remy or any of my teammates doesn’t mean I’ll be able to control the urges and flashbacks that have taken over my body and mind so many times before. Last time was proof of that. And I’m terrified that I’ll fall back into the trap of directing my fear and panic at other people.

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