BACKSTAGE, The Lagoon was crawling with people. Those with media passes had set up their cameras in the Arena hours ago. The prelims were already through. And now we were further into the night, I had to strain to see an empty seat over the herd of the roaring audience.
As our youngest prospect, Teddy O’Sullivan, opener to the main card, bumped gloves with his opponent in the cage, I caught James through the fence, grinning beside a busty redhead. He’d disappeared after claiming he had a business meeting. Now I wasn’t so sure if that was the case. With no sign of Blue at his side, I took my phone from my pocket to see if she’d texted me whilst I’d been otherwise occupied with a heated altercation between two undercards.
With a touch of the screen, the only notifications I had were ones I didn’t give a shit for. I didn’t have time to worry about Blue’s whereabouts, yet I was. The Lagoon was heaving, she barely knew anyone, and the last I’d spoken to her was when I sent her back to the penthouse with Finley hours ago. She should’ve been back by now. On a whim, I decided to text her. Where are you?
I’d give her the benefit of the doubt before I chased up Finley. Today had been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet. But if I had to, I’d send a fucking search party.
I turned my back on the crowd and strode down the halls of the Lagoon, making a pit stop at our next fighter’s wardrobe with some words of encouragement, watching as his hands were wrapped, taped, gloved, then taped again over his wrists to keep them secure. Then, I returned on my way.
Entering the locker room we’d reserved for Hudson, I tipped my chin at my brother in acknowledgement, who sat not so far from his side. Noah wasn’t just my mini-me around here. Everyone gave him their time of day. He walked into a room, and the people in that room would show him respect, and though he came across as my errand boy nine times out of ten, he did it because he was a genuine guy. A top friend. And the best fucking brother. It was precisely why he was sitting in support of our “Bully Boy,” watching the event on the screen in front of him, instead of being in the arena, right beside the action.
Just as Hudson’s opponent Killian had begun his pre-fight ritual in another room of the building, Hudson had done the same. I recognised the music playing through the speakers as DMA’s Silver. Every fight since the song was released, he’d had it on repeat. Everyone else grew tired of hearing the same fucking lyrics time and time again, but Hudson seemed to come into his own when the song played enough times. He had a while to go until his turn in the cage. Members of our team were spread throughout the room, ready to give him whatever he asked for. But until then, it was pivotal that he kept his head straight.
“You seen Blue?” I asked Noah.
“Nah, is she with Olivia?”
At the mention of Olivia’s name, Hudson side-eyed me from over his shoulder. With his back arched forward and his elbows resting on his knees, he spoke casually, “She’s not with Olivia.”
I frowned. I wanted to know how he knew that, but without wanting to disrupt his usual pre-fight routine, I dipped my head with thanks and slid my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “Alright. Noah, if you happen to see her before I do, tell her I’m looking for her.”
“Is this about this morning?” he asked.
“How’d you mean?”
“Whatever went down with James. Blue’s birthday dinner.” His curls fell over his forehead as he mimicked Hudson’s position and hiked an eyebrow in my direction. “Sophia. She didn’t attend Blue’s birthday dinner, did she?”
I sighed and scrubbed a hand across my jaw, glancing around the room. Six people too many occupied the four walls, making it easy for me not to divulge any details. “Not now. Later.”
He pursed his lips and nodded slowly, his attention back on the television as Teddy passed his opponent’s guard to full mount and started landing some vicious ground and pound.
The room erupted with hoots, and Noah blurted a “Get the fuck in there!” as Teddy’s elbows rained down on his opponent’s face, forcing the ref to jump in and stop the fight. With his opponent conscious but unable to fight back, it was declared a win by TKO.
The Lagoon was flying high. So far, every result was one I’d hoped for.
I smirked as I headed to the door, glancing at Hudson–the only one to remain unbothered in his seat as his favourite fucking song ended and began again. Regardless of how well The Lagoon had done so far, it was his show. If he was nervous, the kid didn’t show it.
My phone rang as I made my way from the room, back through the hall and towards the arena. Finally, I thought, as I slipped it from my pocket and answered without pause.
“Blue.”
I heard a scoff and then, “Red is more my colour.”
“Sophia?” I pulled my phone from my ear and took a glimpse at the number on the screen. “What the fuck are you doing in my office?” It didn’t get past me that she mentioned red being her colour. And not because of the blood-red lipstick she often wore, but as if she was the champion and Blue was her challenger.
“I think we need to discuss a few things,” she purred.
“We have nothing to discuss that can’t be settled through our lawyers.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
I sighed and spoke dryly. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s fight night. I haven’t got time for this.”
“You’ll want to make time, Walker.”
I reached the door to the arena seconds after our next fighter stepped through. The audience’s noise breathed into the hall before the door closed behind him, and then, glancing through the window, I drew my gaze to James. He hadn’t moved, seemingly still content with the redhead at his side. It settled me, but only slightly. I took a deep breath, a little apprehensive that whatever move I made next could be damaging one way or another.
“What do you want from me, Sophia?”
Did I go into the arena and take my seat beside James, ignoring Sophia’s idiocy?
Did I chase up Finley to figure out where the fuck Blue was?
What if Blue was with Sophia?
What if Sophia came down here and fucked everything up for me before I even had the chance to put things right?
“What do I want?” she hummed. “What. Do. I. Want?”
I heard the click of a mouse and then the sound of my printer. My brows bunched tighter. “The fuck are you doing? How did you get onto my computer?”
She laughed. “It took me a few attempts to guess your password, but I’m not completely dense. Noah’s birthday. He always came before me. Before us. But then,” she sighed, “so did work. I wish I could say I read your emails and found them… hmm, what’s the word?” I heard the tap of her nails. “Lacklustre. But what you’ve told James–these lies you’ve fabricated–you’ve painted quite the picture. I’m touched, truly. It seems we’ve welcomed Blue into our home, and I’ve grown quite fond of her. The Sixth Sense, Walker, really? James believed me and his teenage daughter bonded over a psychological thriller? Give me credit. I have much more class.”
My shoulders tightened, and when I didn’t speak–because what the fuck was I supposed to say? she continued, “Come to your office. We need to discuss our future.”
I ground my back teeth. “We don’t have a fucking future. I’ve already wasted one too many years with you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You need me. Maybe more than you did back then. Maybe now more than ever.”
She hung up, and I pushed my phone back into my pocket, anger embodying me as I took off in the direction of the elevator. I hated to think it, let alone admit it, but if Sophia had read my emails, it meant she knew the extent I’d gone to. And it meant the bitch just might’ve been right. If I wanted The Lagoon, then perhaps I did need her. I required her to corroborate my story until the deal was done. At least where James was concerned. The question was, how did I keep it from Blue? Was it even possible?
“Fuck!”
How had I been so fucking stupid?
There was no way I would crawl out of the mess I had made without losing something valuable to me in the process.
BLUE
A FIST FLEW through my window, and suddenly I was being pulled from my car seat and into the rain. Crying, I clung to the boy who held me, and as I looked up, he looked down, pulling something sharp from my jumper.
Raindrops stuck to his hair, his brows pulled down in a frown.
“Shit,” he said, looking between me and the car. “Fucking shit.”
Warmth touched my back, but then it was gone as he spun us around and began jogging. Something crackled, and I wriggled, trying to see over his shoulder. But he didn’t stop. We kept moving further and further away, and instead of letting me go, he only held me tighter.
“Mummy. I want my mummy.”
“I know, kid. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He lifted me higher, cradling my head, and that’s when I saw it. Flames coming from the car. Someone was shouting for help, and my eyes followed the noise. There was another car, but it wasn’t upside down like ours. A man had fallen from it and out onto the road. His face was covered in blood. But where was my mummy?
I whimpered, and the boy squashed my head into his neck. All I could hear was him cursing under his breath. Unable to move with his arms surrounding me, I cried into his neck, my tears falling against his skin.
A moment later, he opened the door of another car and spoke to someone over my head.
“Mummy,” I sobbed. “I want my mummy.”
“Did you call an ambulance?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, take the kid. Keep her warm until the paramedics get here. She’s bleeding a little bit. She had some glass near her shoulder. Will you remember to tell them that if I go and… If I go and… fuck! Just tell them. I have to go back.”
He tried to hand me over to the person behind me, but I gripped onto the boy like I would my bunny.
Oh no, my bunny.
He swore as my hold on him tightened, and then, ever so gently, he angled my chin upwards. His fingers were damp and cold against my skin, but his mouth turned up at one corner, forcing a smile.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “Don’t cry. Noah’s going to look after you while I go and get your mummy, alright?”
My lip wobbled. “And bunny?”
“Bunny too.”
His smile disappeared as he looked outside and off into the distance. He was frowning now. Frowning as he passed me to Noah, who sat me on his knee and secured his small arms around me.
“Nate, is her mummy okay?”
Nate swallowed.
He looked at me, then back to Noah. Then he shook his head, quickly pulling off his jumper.
“Wrap her in this,” he said, right before closing the car door.
Through the rain covered windows, I watched him run back towards the direction we’d come from.
My body shook as I settled back against Noah’s warmth. He settled the jumper over me like a blanket, and just as I closed my eyes–my little body so tired–his whisper broke through the darkness. “My brother said if he had stopped at that red light, your mummy would have too.”
STARING at my blank expression through the bathroom mirror, I robotically applied the finishing touches to my make-up. The girl in the mirror looked like she had her entire life together. An expensive dress–flawless skin. Nothing to suggest she continued to live through a tragedy unless someone were to ask, “How did you get that scar?” and she revealed her life story.
Wasn’t it disappointing that I’d spent my whole life feeling threatened by others’ judgement, when in reality, the judgement of others only hurt because it exposed precisely the image I portrayed? And wasn’t it contradictory that I’d spent my whole life trying to outrun my childhood, only to find myself in the arms of a man who understood more of it than I could even comprehend?
I placed my lipstick on the counter and brushed my shaking fingers through my hair before settling my palms against the granite.
Unlike me, Walker probably remembered every recollection. The moment he ran a red light to the moment he left me in the arms of his little brother.
I leant over the sink, hurling, and though acid seemed to climb up my throat and my chest threatened a panic attack, I didn’t succumb to the dread any further. But still, I felt it. I felt it from my head to my toes as it deflated me, second by second–moment by moment. And I wanted to be wrong. I wanted so hard for someone to tell me that I wasn’t the little girl in my dream. That Walker wasn’t the boy who pulled me from my mother’s car while he left her to die.
How had I not known who he was when I sat beside him on the plane? Why had my father always referred to him as the stranger who saved me, as if he hadn’t played a part in my mother’s death and killed the woman my father claimed to be the love of his life? Perhaps my father was more messed up than I realised. Clearly, I was a lousy judge of character all around.
Walker… I didn’t know him at all.
My phone vibrated against the bathroom counter, and I glanced at the screen, noticing a text from the man himself. The girl in the mirror would have laughed if she hadn’t been me. The girl in the mirror would have run away if she wasn’t finally ready to face her trauma. Both she and I deserved an explanation.
Had I been naive to think he began to feel for me what I had for him? That there was something between the two of us? That he actually cared about me? That this familiarity I felt towards him was more than the experience that outlined my entire life? That I wasn’t just here out of his guilt? That I wasn’t just here because my father didn’t give him the fucking choice?
I felt dirty.
Every inch of me.
Inside and out.
My breath shook as I inhaled and exhaled again and again, until eventually, I picked up my phone and left the bathroom.
I ignored Walker’s message and dialled my father, and on the fifth ring, he picked up.
“Dad.” There was a ruffle, a giggle, the expansive noise of a crowd, and then the sound of the announcer opening the next fight. “Dad. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Blue. I can barely hear you.”
“I said I need to talk to you about something.”
“Right now? I’m already seated; where are you?”
I paused in the kitchen, looking to the ceiling to hold back the angry and equally devastated moisture pooling inside my eyes. And I felt both. I felt both under my skin like burning shame. “I remember, dad. I remember what happened. You said a stranger saved me. But it was Walker. It was Walker that pulled me from the car.”
He grunted. “Where are you?”
“I’m still at Walker’s. Can you come here?”
“No. Stay there.”
“What? No. Please. I need to talk to you.”
“No, Blue. I said stay there. We can discuss this tomorrow. All these years refusing therapy, this can only be a good thing. Tomorrow,” he repeated. “We can talk then.”
“A good thing?” I scoffed, feeling frantic. “How is this considered a good thing? All this time, you’ve been lying to me. All this time, he’s been lying to me. It’s his fault, dad. Mum died because he–”
A beep sounded, and I realised my father had ended the call.
My phone fell to my side and hit my thigh as I blinked back my tears. There was no way I was waiting until tomorrow to speak with him. And if my father wasn’t going to come here at a time when I needed him, then I had no choice but to go to him.
FINLEY PULLED up outside the doors of The Lagoon and stepped out of the car. He rounded the vehicle and opened my door. I hadn’t spoken the entire drive over, so it didn’t surprise me when he helped me from my seat and asked, “Is everything okay?”
It was funny how okay meant something entirely different just this morning.
So I didn’t answer him.
I couldn’t.
“Do you want me to call Walker and have him meet you?” He looked around us. The noise of the crowd could be heard through the arena walls, and there were only a few people waiting to go inside.
“No,” I said. “I need to find my father.”
Finley nodded solemnly, then walked me over to a side door where he handed a security guard my pass. I walked through the door alone and followed the noise of the crowd to the arena. Despite wearing little clothes, my skin remained hot. And with every step, I grew more nervous.
My eyes immediately went to the Octagon as I stepped through the double doors and into the arena. The crowd felt overbearing; thousands of people cheering as they watched the fight before them. There was a large television screen against the room’s back wall, giving those seated far from the octagon the perfect view. After all, it was the atmosphere as well as the entertainment that made the event what it was. I scoffed, somewhat ashamed to be a part of it now that I knew exactly the type of person Nate Walker was.
As the camera panned out, I spotted my father on the screen, sitting behind the cage. So that’s where I went, bypassing rowdy crowd members as I made my way to him. I wished for my sunglasses to hide my eyes, though I held my head high and continued.
When he spotted me, he scowled. “I told you not to come,” he said as he stood. Then, gripping my arm, he led me away from the cage and from the arena.
“I’m not waiting until tomorrow to talk about what happened. You’ve wanted me to face my trauma for years, so here I fucking am, dad. Right here, facing it.”
“Don’t you dare curse in front of me.”
“Then don’t treat me like a child!” I screamed. A lone tear escaped my eye, but I wiped it away before it could glide down my cheek.
He blanched back, dropping my arm, and those who stood near us all turned to look in our direction. A few camera phones pointed in our direction. Judging, I imagined. But for once, I tried to convince myself how little I cared. They could judge all they wanted. They could believe what they wanted, and I wouldn’t let it bother me because they knew nothing of what I’d been through.
With a pinch of his nose, he said, “Walker hasn’t sat down yet. Have you spoken to him? Do you know where he is?”
I shook my head to both, but a staff member must’ve been eavesdropping on our conversation because he darted his head up and said, “I saw him take off in the direction of the elevator.”
“Then he must be in his office,” my father stated. He didn’t bother with a thank you, and maybe, for the first time in my life, I didn’t either. My father waltzed off in the direction of the elevator, and I followed behind.
“How did you figure it out?” he murmured. “After all this time, what triggered the memory?”
I took a deep breath. The words were hard to get out, but I forced them through my lips anyway. “Subconsciously, Walker never felt like a stranger. And since being here, my dreams have only become clearer.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat as I remembered how real my dream felt. How it felt like a moment I’d lived. “I don’t understand, dad. It was his fault, wasn’t it? She’d still be here if he didn’t run that red light. I wouldn’t have grown up without a mother. I wouldn’t have grown up like this. How can you forgive him for taking her away? How can I forgive him for shaping who I am?”
“He made a bad judgement call, princess. As much as it kills me to admit it, your mother ran that red light all on her own. Walker cannot be liable for the mistake of another person. We weren’t the only ones who lost something that day.”
I shook my head, the new information only confusing me further. “I don’t know what you mean–”
“Noah. He went into foster care. A police check revealed Walker had stolen his father’s car. No tax, no insurance. When the police took the boys home, they realised their parents weren’t fit to care for Noah. Walker had taken Noah from the family home. They’d run away. Only social services wouldn’t allow Walker to take custody of him. By coincidence, Walker applied for a job at The Lagoon a few months later, and because he saved you, it only felt right I gave him something in return.”
“I don’t understand… Dad, he took. You didn’t owe him anything.”
“You’re wrong, princess. I did. I owed him a chance.”
I shook my head, unbelieving. “If you believed it wasn’t his fault, why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why didn’t you tell me who he was before I came to London?”
“When you were younger, before you were old enough to refuse therapy, I was told by your therapist that it was best to let you explore your memories and your feelings without leading you in a particular direction. Nobody could tell me if you’d remember or whether your memories would remain repressed. You were already so fragile. I didn’t want to push you over the ledge by filling in every blank.”
What…?
“So the two of you lied to me?”
“I asked him to keep it from you, princess. And in the back of my mind, I hoped you’d figure it out on your own. Though I must say”—he pressed the button on the elevator, and we stepped inside—“you’re making a complete show of it with your timing. You do realise how important tonight is for The Lagoon, don’t you? How important tonight is for Walker.”
I knew that, and maybe a small part of me–one I wished wasn’t there–felt guilty, but I wouldn’t admit that to him. And this… wasn’t this more important? Wasn’t I?
“A show of it?” I wiped under my eyes, feeling my stomach sink as the elevator rose. Did I even want to speak to Walker now? How was I supposed to face him? I hadn’t had any time to process everything my father just told me.
If he was telling the truth, it meant Walker wasn’t to blame.
And why would my father fabricate a story when he lost my mother the way he did?
My mind swirled, my chest expanded, and I found myself growing dizzy with emotion.
“Yes, a show of it. You’ve gone this long. One more day wouldn’t have gone amiss, princess. Just one more day while the dust settled in that head of yours.”
“Is that what you think? You think this is dust, dad?” I held my palm against my heart, feeling it break. “Imagine being me–imagine having to relive it. Do you think I planned this? Do you think I wanted this?”
I felt sick with sadness, with anger, with confusion.
How was I to know that Walker wasn’t who I thought he was?
I thought it was his fault, but it turned out his betrayal only stemmed from him hiding the truth.
I closed my eyes, counting the beat of my heart with each crack, unaware who, perhaps even what, was really breaking it. And how was I to stop it from breaking if I didn’t understand? If I couldn’t find the root of it?
Walker warned me he had secrets.
He tried to scare me off him.
So why didn’t I listen?
