That smug smile of hers disappears. “See you soon, Daxey.” Then she walks out the door.
And out of my life.
I haven’t felt this good since… let’s just say it’s been a long time.
* * *
Kate
“Let’s go out!”
“Abby, I’m knackered. I don’t want to go out,” I whine.
My flatmate comes into the lounge and frowns. “You’re leaving in two days. I’m not going to see you in forever. You need to get up and do something with me. We’re going out and you’re not saying no.”
“Ugh!”
“Quit moping. For someone who’s about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, you’re not excited enough and we’re fixing that tonight.” Abby is serious, crossing her arms and staring down at me.
“But Abby, I’m about to go through brutal training. I’m trying to catch up on my sleep before I go.” The whinging sound of my voice doesn’t escape me.
She makes a dismissive noise. “Whatever. This is our last chance, sister. You’ve slept enough for the next four months. C’mon. Get showered and dressed. You look awful.”
Abby grabs my hands and pulls me up off the sofa. “I’m going through a rough patch, Abby. You’re not a nice friend. You should be spoiling me while you have the chance. Let me eat ice cream and watch the telly all day.” I stick my lip out, pouting. Not that she knows the extent of my troubles. All she knows is that Logan and I broke up, she doesn’t know how badly he reacted.
Is every bloke a complete and total bastard?
“You can’t eat ice cream and watch T.V. all day, you’re an Olympic athlete. You need to be in peak form. Now it’s time to party. You broke up with a boyfriend who you say you didn’t think you loved and had been acting like an ass so there’s no point in moping. No more excuses. Go get ready.”
She shoves me bodily into the bathroom and pulls the door shut behind me. Damn, she’s stronger than she looks. And with her psychology degree, she’s always analyzing my moods. It’s like I can’t have a bad day without her wanting to dive into why I’m sad and what happened to cause it.
Okay, so maybe I’ve had a lot of bad days over the last few years, but Christ, I’ve only just begun to stop obsessing over everything—Wes, Logan, my career, Dax. The last thing I need is Abby trying to crack into my head.
It’s not like she hasn’t been hiding something herself. Dodgy phone calls and unexplained absences. The only reason I don’t ask is because I don’t want her to turn the tables on me. And I’m afraid it might have something to do with Hawke, and that hits a little too close to home.
“I hate you!” I call out to the closed door as I strip and get into the shower.
“You love me!” she yells back.
Yeah, I do. Once I leave and don’t have her there to keep me sane, I have no idea what I’ll do.
* * *
“Admit it, this is fun,” Abby says loudly over the pulsing music of the club.
“It is,” I agree. Abby decided we needed to dance, so she dragged me out to Phoenix, a popular club off Wilshire Boulevard.
“Another?” she asks, pointing at her empty glass. I look down and see that mine is empty as well.
I shrug. “Sure! But two is my limit.” No way will I ever end up drunk again.
By the time we maneuver through the thick crowd to the bar and back over to the dance floor, we’re both feeling the effects of the potent cocktails. Grinning, we spin around, swaying to the thumping bass. People our age surround us, all looking to get lost in the music.
I’m about to tell Abby that she’s brilliant and this was a great idea when suddenly there’s a commotion on the other side of the dance floor. Two bright spotlights stand out in the dim lighting of the massive room, creating a halo of light that appears to be following someone through the crowd.
“Cameras,” Abby shouts in my ear. She takes one last look before continuing to dance. “It’s Hollywood, I guess it’s no surprise.”
I nod, agreeing completely, yet not comfortable enough to lose myself again. My last encounter with cameras was that horrific day at UCLA during our final game of the season. Dax went crazy, punched a couple of security guards, and ended up arrested.
Then he broke up with me.
The bright lights come closer to where we’re dancing. Well, Abby is dancing. I’m standing paralyzed—watching the cameras move towards us while an ominous feeling takes root in my stomach, gnawing and tearing at my insides. The group comes within view and the bottom drops out.
“Is that—?” Abby has stopped dancing again and is standing next to me as the horror plays out.
“Lila,” I choke out. “Yes.”
Lila Griffin and her reality show crew in the flesh. I haven’t seen her since the day Dax helped me move out of our dorm room.
Now she’s with Dax. At least, I think she is. He hasn’t been on her show lately, not that I would watch that drivel. I’ve been told he’s not been on recently. Okay fine, I might read the summaries on a gossip site. It’s not a big deal. Everyone does it.
Not everyone has shagged the man in question, however.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Abby says, her arm sliding over my shoulders like a security blanket.
“I’m fine,” I say so unconvincingly that I know Abby doesn’t believe a single word.
“Let’s go. I’m pretty tired.” Abby reaches for my hand, but I can’t move. I can’t do anything. All I can do is think about Dax’s hands being all over Lila’s body. Despair hits me like a freight train, fast and hard. Seeing her here brings back every feeling I’ve tried to deny for the last four damn years.
Jealousy, hurt, betrayal, sorrow, anger… and worst of all, I feel completely and totally inadequate. Olympics or no, I’ll never compare to Lila.
“Oh my god! Kate?”
No. No, no, no.
“Kate,” Abby hisses, “let’s get out of here.” She tugs harder on my hand. I must be a sadist because I don’t move an inch.
Suddenly, the small circle of lights grows to include Abby and me. I’m face to face with Lila Griffin, my slutty first-year flatmate from hell and current girlfriend to my soul mate.
“It is you!” Lila spreads her arms and pulls me into what has to be the most insincere hug I’ve ever experienced. She steps back, that familiar evil spark in her eyes. “It’s been so long. How are you?”
The dark lens of a camera is less than three feet from my face. The reality of my situation smacks me over the head.
I’m being filmed for Lila’s show. The show she has with her boyfriend Dax. He’s going to see this.
“Ummmm, I’m great. Brilliant. It’s good to see you.” I glance over at Abby who seems to be itching to slap Lila right across her smug face if the scowl she’s sporting means anything.
“That’s so awesome! I can’t believe you’re here! I figured you’d have left L.A. by now. You know, to go back to that little town you grew up in.”
Nice dig on my poor upbringing. “No. I’m still here—”
“Great!” She interrupts me before I can tell her what I really think of her or how I made the Olympic footy team. “Well, I gotta run. Daxey is waiting for me.”
My mouth falls open as Lila leans in to air kiss both of my cheeks. Before I know it, she’s gone, her bizarre little entourage trailing behind.
“I hate her so much,” Abby says.
Me? I’m speechless. There is literally nothing I can say to make anything that just happened seem less humiliating than it is. Dax will see that. He’ll think I’m a total failure. A pathetic waste of space.
They’ll probably watch it together and have a laugh.
Abby manages to maneuver me outside and into a cab before the tears start pouring down my face.
59
Dax
“When did this take place?” I bark into my mobile, my breath coming out in misty puffs.
“Dax, are you coming inside?” My mum is staring at me f
rom the door of the conservatory with a concerned expression on her face. Her arms are wrapped around her middle to stave off the bitter cold.
“Hold on.” I cover the mouthpiece of my mobile. “Mum, you go on in. I’m buying it for you and dad. It only matters if you two like the house, not me.”
She nods, but the knot between her brows lets me know she’s not happy. I rub my forehead, the stress so overwhelming I’m on the verge of losing my mind.
“Zane,” I bark at my assistant. I hired the eager kid from the gym in L.A. “When was the bloody thing filmed?” The urge to chuck my mobile into the fancy koi pond is nearly overwhelming. He’s a great assistant, has been for a few years now. Unfortunately, he does take the brunt of my frustrations.
“Two months ago.”
Clenching my jaw, I attempt to calm down. It’s not Zane’s fault that Lila is a psychotic bitch. It’s not his fault she somehow found Kate at an L.A. nightclub and filmed it for her reality show. It’s definitely not his fault that I found out about it airing while I’m over five thousand miles away in London, spending the holidays buying a house for my parents so they can get away from the dangers of Hackney. It took me two years to convince them to move, I had to jump on the chance to get them out of there as soon as they agreed to it.
A cold winter wind whips under my fleece, causing a shiver to wrack my body. The large back garden is laid out beautifully, with a stonework courtyard, bushes that are probably gorgeous in spring when they’re blooming, and of course, a pretentious little koi pond complete with working waterfall.
“Get me a meeting with Rachel as soon as I’m back in town.”
“You got it.”
“Make sure one of the solicitors I have on retainer is there as well.”
“Solicitor?”
“Lawyer, whatever you call it,” I snap, taking out my irritation on my assistant.
“No problem. Did you want Mr. Evans present for the meeting?” Zach asks, continuing as if nothing happened. I like that about him. He doesn’t take my mood personally.
“No. Not Ross. Get it set up and text me the time and date.”
I hang up the call and tilt my head back to look at the grey English sky. Never in my life did I think I’d miss the chilly, rainy weather of London or any winter season for that matter, but after spending years in the constant L.A. sunshine, I find that I do.
I put together a plan in my head to take down Lila and her crazy train. She’s fucked with me for years, but fucking with Kate? She’ll regret she ever met me.
Smiling, I go back inside the posh country home, joining my parents and their estate agent as they take the tour. I nod when the different amenities are pointed out, but I’m not listening. I’m figuring out exactly how I’m going to ruin Lila and her quest to be the next Kim Kardashian.
By the time I get done with her, Lila Griffin is going to wish she never heard of Dax Davies. Now, to let off some of this anger.
I pick up the phone, and dial Shaun.
* * *
“Oi! Little brother, how’s it been?”
Shaun crosses the empty expanse of the huge warehouse that houses our family business.
“Fuck me! Are you bloody smiling?” My brother Shaun has smiled approximately four times since we were kids. It’s a rare occurrence to say the least.
He doesn’t even argue with me. He walks over, grabs my shoulders, and pulls me into a hug. Once he releases me, he smacks my arm gently. “Loosen up, Dax. You’re wound tighter than a spring.”
“Yeah, well, I’m under a lot of stress. So sue me.”
Shaun holds up his hands. “Oi! Don’t take it out on me unless you want to do it in there.” He nods towards the cage that sits in the center of the room.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a good brawl. It would make me feel better.
“Only if we wear padded gloves. I can’t break my hands. We’re recording when I get back to the States.”
Shaun grins. “Still a pussy I see.”
“Leave your brother alone, Shaun!”
I spin to see who has the guts to yell at Shaun and live to tell about it. A tiny girl with long, black hair bounces over to Shaun’s side. He wraps her up in his arms and drops a sweet kiss on her head.
“What? Have I landed in another dimension? Are you having a laugh?”
Shaun? With a girl? One girl?
The two of them smile, my brother looking down at her like she hung the bloody moon. She’s no better. Gazing up at Shaun as if he’s some kind of prize.
As I stare at the girl, I realize she’s familiar. “I know you.”
Her face reddens and her eyes drop to the floor. Shaun steps forward, subtly pushing her behind his body.
“Leave it be,” he warns, his tone indicating that it isn’t up for discussion.
Ah. There it is. This is the Shaun I know.
“Alright then. I’m Dax.” I wave at the girl who seems to have recovered her composure.
“Tasha, nice to see you,” she says in a lovely voice.
I frown. I know that I’ve met her before. If I could only remember.
Shaun takes her hand, turning her away from me. “Tash, we’re going in the cage. Can you grab Dax some gear and lay it out in the changing room, love?”
Tasha nods and hurries off.
I stare at my brother open-mouthed.
“What?” he asks. “It’s not that odd.”
“Uh, yeah it is, mate. You, in love. It’s…” I struggle for the right words. “It’s bloody mind blowing.”
“Fuck off. Get dressed and get your arse in the cage, rock star. I’m gonna beat you silly.”
I laugh. “Just like old times then.”
Only it’s not the same. Everything in Hackney is different. Mum, dad, Shaun, me. It’s my home, only it’s not. As I’m getting changed into my gear I realize what the problem is. It’s Kate. She’s not here. That’s why it doesn’t feel right. Without her, Hackney holds no fond memories for me. Nothing here will ever feel right again.
“C’mon ya nancy! Let’s see what ya can do!” My dad’s loud bellow shakes me from my moping.
Great. It really will be like old times. I’ll get my ass beaten, dad will tell me how much I suck, and I can go back to being alone and miserable.
Sounds about right.
Kate
“Great work, Campbell.”
Chelsea Lewis, my new coach for the U.K. Olympic team, high fives me after I make seven out of ten of my practice free kicks.
“Brecken!” Coach yells out at our keeper, “you need to work on your left. Campbell figured your weakness in two kicks.”
The redheaded keeper from Scotland waves in agreement. “Aye, Coach. I’ll dae better next time.”
I head inside of the training facility in Manchester, where our team is based.
“Ready for tomorrow?” I ask Colleen, a peppy blonde girl from Ireland.
“Oi’m excited we’re startin’ the matches,” she chuckles, slamming her locker door shut.
I smile. Sometimes I think I need a translator for all of the different dialects we have on the team. We’re all speaking English, but it doesn’t always feel that way.
“New Zealand’s a long way away. I hope there’s a good in flight movie,” I joke.
Colleen laughs out loud. “Dare better be. Oi git bored easily.”
Grinning back, I join her, laughing until my cheeks hurt. Finally, I belong somewhere. Here, with these women, I’m welcomed with open arms. We all have the same love of the game, having dedicated most of our lives to excelling at it. Now we have the chance to show the world that we aren’t a bunch of mannish munters.
The competition is fierce, but it feels unbelievable, like I’m alive and doing something incredible—for myself and for my country. Unfortunately, Logan disagreed. I think back to the conversation we had before I left.
“You should be free to see other people while I’m gone, Logan. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to wait for me.�
��
Logan’s steel-grey eyes pin me in place, the emotions in them indiscernible. “I thought you wanted me to go with you.” Still, his eyes reveal nothing, not hurt, not anger, not anything.
“You can’t just quit your job and follow me around the world. It’s not right and it’s not going to happen, Logan.”
He frowns, those usually loving eyes turning hard. “What do you mean it’s not going to happen? You don’t want me to come with you? Is that it?”
Logan’s tone is getting harsher and louder. A few people in the restaurant have glanced over at us. I should have done this in private, but I didn’t want to be stuck having a four-hour weepy goodbye with tears and begging and whatever.
“Logan,” I hiss under my breath, “calm down. For the first time in my life, I’m doing something for me. To make myself happy. I can’t worry about your happiness as well. That sounds selfish, but it’s true. I need to do this alone.”
“Selfish?” He shouts. “It’s not just selfish. You think you’re better than me, is that it?”
“Shhhhh, please. You’re making a scene.” Now other patrons have turned their entire bodies in our direction to watch the show—and lucky me, I’m the star.
“Making a scene? You know what, Kate… I’ve been waiting patiently for you to get over yourself and this narcissistic streak you have. Go. Go to the Olympics and worship yourself in the mirror everyday since you love yourself so much.” He stands up, his cheeks red and his eyes glassy. He tosses a few bills down on the table. “I’m out of here.”
Choking back tears, I focus on breathing in and out steadily. He’s wrong. So wrong. I’m not doing this because I love myself. I’m doing it because I need a reason not to hate myself.
I’ve got to prove to myself that I was good enough for Dax Davies and still am. That I’m not a nobody from Hackney who hasn’t done a single useful thing with her life.
* * *
My mobile rings from somewhere in the hotel room, the sounds of Katy Perry belting out a line about California Gurls pulling me from a deep slumber.