Pas de Deux: Part One (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 1) (31 page)

The friendship had been cemented from that moment forward.

After high school, they went to the Army recruiter together and enlisted. They’d gone to basic training together, they’d ended up with the same military operations specialty, assigned to the same unit, and had deployed three times—once to Iraq, twice to Afghanistan. After their last deployment, they’d transferred to the same reserve unit.

There was no one else Cillian would rather have watching his six than Matthews.

They’d already been in the ring for an hour; they just kept sparring, neither one willing to submit despite their increasing exhaustion. Though Matthews was a little bigger and had in the past proven himself to be quicker than Cillian, a bit more agile, Cillian could tell his buddy was flagging and couldn’t help feeling a surge of triumph and pride that he was getting the best of Matthews.

The pride was compounded when he managed to wrestle Matthews to the floor, snag him in a headlock, and use his legs to lock Matthews’ in place. After a moment of intense struggling, Matthews finally—
finally
—tapped out.

Cillian immediately released him and they rolled apart to opposite corners of the ring, panting and thoroughly spent.

Matthews lifted a hand into the air, huffing. “Caught a cramp on that last one. Otherwise, I never woulda tapped.”

Cillian snorted from his corner. “Yeah, whatever, bro. Shove it up your ass. I won fair and square.”

Matthews laughed. “Fine, fine. You won. You got this tournament in the bag, Killy. Don’t even sweat it.”

Cillian flushed with pride; hearing Matthews validate him meant a lot. “We’ll see. You’re gonna be able to make it, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Thanks, man. And thanks for sparrin’ with me.”

Matthews grunted loudly as he sat up and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I needed the exercise anyway. But, dammit, Killy, did you have to punch me in the face?” He gingerly touched the fresh, raised cut on his cheekbone where Cillian had cracked him.

“Oh, you thought I was gonna go easy on you?”

“Jess is gonna be pissed at you,” Matthews warned.

For a moment, Cillian had forgotten all about Matthews’ petite but fiery girlfriend and realized he’d probably just bought himself a new asshole, courtesy of her.

“She’ll be all right.” Cillian smirked. “You’re fragile, but you’ll heal.”

Matthews barked out a laugh and shook his head, unwrapping his hands. “Fragile, huh? Yeah, probably.” He pulled off his wraps and tossed them down, rolling his head around to pop his neck.

Meanwhile, Cillian still lay in a motionless heap in his corner, content to do absolutely nothing for a few minutes. It was late on Wednesday evening, and exhaustion from a long day and a hard sparring session settled deep into the fibers of his aching muscles.

“’Bout a week to go, right, Kills?”

Cillian nodded. “Tournament’s next Saturday and Sunday.”

“How you feel?”

“Pretty good. Feel stronger, faster. Had good training, but, that’s as much as I know.”

Matthews bobbed his head. “Find out who’s training was better when you get in that cage and square up with a dude.”

“If I can beat you, I ain’t worried about much.” Cillian flashed a tired grin, but it was just a jibe; he knew better than to get cocky.

“Eh, fuck yourself, kid.” Matthews chucked a glove at him. “I’ll be up with Jess, Baz’ll be there, obviously, your pops, your sister—anybody else?”

Cillian shrugged. “Carl. ‘Bout it.”

Matthews made a face; he was the only one Cillian had told about the email he’d discovered for the canceled equipment and Carl’s plans to close the gym. “That’s gonna suck, havin’ him there.”

“He’s my manager, and promoter. He pretty much got me there.”

“Bullshit. Wilcox invited you.” Matthews shook his head. “I can’t wait for the day when this place is all yours. Back in the Ronan family, like it always shoulda been.”

Cillian sighed. “Yeah. Me too, trust me. This shit stresses me the fuck out.”

“Just gotta hang on a little longer, man. Ain’t no way you’re leavin’ Albany empty-handed.”

Cillian just shrugged. Deep, hot anger coiled up in his stomach, the way it always did when he thought about Carl.

“You wanna grab some dinner tomorrow night with me and Jess?” Matthews asked, as though sensing the need for a new topic. “We were gonna check out this new Chinese spot that opened up by our house.”

“Nah, but thanks. I, uh, got plans tomorrow.” He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from turning up.

Matthews arched a brow. “Oh? With your
friend
, Sammi?”

“Yup.”
Am I still smiling? Chump.

“Uh-huh.” Matthews eyed him. “And you met her family the other night, right?”

“Yup.”

“When she meetin’ yours?”

“Sunday, actually.”

“Damn. And you haven’t tapped yet?”

Cillian frowned at him as a strange, protective feeling took hold in his chest. “Tapping” was for random, impermanent women.
Sammi’s not impermanent…I hope.

“Nah. It ain’t like that.”

Matthews tilted his head. “Why? She’s not into you like that? I know you’re into her. It was all over your stupid mug at Cliff’s the other night. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty, seems like a good girl. Definitely your type.”

“She is. I mean, we’re into each other like that. A lot. Just don’t wanna rush anything. She’s had some—trouble in the past. Sex, gettin’ close to someone, all that’s hard for her, and I ain’t gonna push her.” Cillian shrugged. “I’ll wait until she’s ready.”

“What happened to her?”

Cillian shook his head; he hated to even think about it, much less talk about it. “Some pretty bad shit. It ain’t for me to say, y’know? I sorta found out on accident, myself. Not sure she would’ve told me. But…it was bad, man.”

“Sorry to hear it. But it’s cool you’re getting closer.” He held up a hand as Cillian lifted a brow. “Not like
that
. Shit, sometimes it’s time to leave the player shit behind and settle down. I handed Jess my balls on a silver platter three years ago and never looked back.”

“Sure did.” Cillian grinned. “Especially the balls part, man.” But in truth, he really liked Jess; she was great for Matthews, who’d had a hard time on the last deployment. Like they all had.

“Not that
you
were ever a huge player, unless you were the quiet-player type. But I don’t remember you with too many girls. And if you were with somebody, they were your girlfriend, even if it was a short relationship.”

Cillian shrugged. “Never really been into that one-night shit.”

“Well, for bein’ a soldier and now a fighter, that’s rare as hell and, honestly, impressive. You always did have the girls checkin’ for you. Can’t imagine why.”

“Look, I’m picky. I don’t wanna be some man-whore who passes himself around to everybody.” Cillian stretched an arm and reached for his water bottle. “Look at my parents, dude. They’ve been married thirty-five years. Had their ups and downs, sure, but they’ve always been there for each other. I want that. You can’t have that bein’ a man-whore.”

“Well…”

“Maybe
you
can, you fuckin’ dickhead,” Cillian said good-naturedly. “But not me. Plus, I’ve seen Mel get fucked over by too many assholes like that. It’s why she’s got two kids with different dads. Not judgin’ her, of course, never would, she’s my sister. But I see what she goes through, gettin’ her heart broken over and over and over. I just—I hate seein’ her go through that shit.”

Matthews snapped his fingers. “Dude whose ass you kicked in that bar a few months ago—”

“One of her baby daddies. Denied Christopher was his, so I had to hunt him down and shove the test results down his fuckin’ throat until he believed me.”

“You are so fuckin’ lucky you didn’t get arrested that night, Kills.” Matthews shook his head. “I’ve never done so much fast talking in my whole life, and I’m in the fuckin’ military.”

“Hometown hero shit has its perks,” Cillian said sarcastically.

Matthews looked at him, his eyes serious. “Killy, don’t do that. You are a fuckin’ hero, man. You saved my ass, Meyer’s ass. Lee’s ass. Me and Meyer, we wouldn’t be here, living life, seeing our families and our girls, if it wasn’t for you. Don’t fuckin’ do that, man. That pisses me off.”

Cillian stared down at his hands. “I’d never leave you guys behind. If I couldn’t’ve gotten you guys outta there, we woulda all died together that day.”

Matthews cleared his throat, blinking rapidly a few times, unable to meet Cillian’s eyes. “Shit. Don’t say that, man. Someone woulda had to live, for our group. We couldn’t all go.”

“I’m serious. I just—it’s hard to hear the ‘hero’ shit. Because…Lee—”

“He made his own decision, Kills.”

“But I just—if I could save him, save all of you, from a burning vehicle, why couldn’t I save him from himself? Why couldn’t I spend an hour talkin’ to my friend and lettin’ him know he didn’t have to do that? Lettin’ him know that I want him around?”

Matthews sighed. After a long pause, he said, “I feel like that too, sometimes. You know, Sunday’s a year since—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” That date was branded into his mind.
Couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to.

Another long silence fell between them again, before Matthews cleared his throat. “So. You said somethin’ earlier about a date with Sammi tomorrow? What’re you guys gonna do?”

“Dinner at her favorite place, show after that.”

“Your drill check come through?” Matthews asked lightly. “You need a loan, you know I got your back.”

Cillian shook his head. “No, no way. I got my check, it’s all good. Between this date and Mel almost gettin’ her water cut off, it’s been a tight week, but I’d rather go hungry than impose.”

“Shut up, dude. Not an imposition. Anyway—you need help, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“So, little Killy’s got a big date. Flowers, candy?” Matthews grinned.

Cillian chuckled in spite of the ache that lingered in his chest. “I should do that. She’d be shocked—she’s so chill, she’d never expect gifts or anything. She’s just really cool. And smart. And sweet.”
And beautiful, and sexy…

Matthews chuckled. “I don’t think you like her much.”

Cillian grinned. “She’s deep, too. She was sayin’ the other night how much fighting is like ballet—I told you she’s a crazy-talented dancer.”

Matthews’ brows shot up. “Did you say
ballet
, dude?”

“Hear me out. There’s a thing in ballet, where a guy and girl dance together. It’s called pas de—something. Anyway, it’s the same idea when you fight. Right? You gotta concentrate on precise movements at specific times. Like me and you sparrin’—she’d say it’s almost like us dancin’.”

“Bro, all I heard you say is you’re a ballet dancer now.”

Cillian groaned. “See, Josh, this is why you got fuckin’ problems in life. You don’t
listen
.”

Matthews laughed and patted the air. “Dude, you are so gone on this girl.”

“I like her,” Cillian said, a defensive note in his voice. “She’s a great girl.”

“And by ‘like’ you mean ‘head over balls in love’.”

“Chill.”

“C’mon, Killy. Plannin’ a romantic date, meetin’ her family right away, bringin’ her to meet yours…
and
you haven’t tapped yet ‘cause you’re waiting? I’m pretty sure that’s love, bro.”

For some reason, Cillian couldn’t keep a little grin off his face. “Just worry about yours and I’ll worry about mine.”

“Listen, man, I’m glad that you like this girl. Really glad. I hope it works out. It’s good to see you happy.
Happier
.”

Cillian shrugged, but he appreciated his buddy’s words. “Thanks. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Now, back to the ballet thing.” Matthews looked at him, his brow creased with concern. “When you sign up for that, do they make you cut your balls off right away, or can it wait until you get your tights?”

He yelped and ducked out of the way, but not fast enough, as Cillian hurled his water bottle at his head.

On Thursday afternoon, Sammi zoomed around the café, wiping tables with her rag, sweeping the floors, washing the dishes. Nervous energy zipped through her body like she’d slammed a few espresso shots.

Almost time.

She swept up the kitchen floor, the broom handle clattering noisily against the sides of the counter, and Jazz studied her over the rim of her glasses.

“Little tense?”

Sammi made a face and swept around Jazz, her friend squawking in protest as Sammi jostled her. “No. Of course not. Why?”

“Child, please. You look like you’re ready to shoot outta your boots.”

“Shoot out of my
boots
?”

“You know what I mean.” Jazz looked at her watch. “It’s three-thirty. You’ve cleaned everything four times, you’ve swept half a dozen times, and you are generally getting on my nerves.” She smiled. “Go make yourself beautiful for your big date.”

“I don’t need two hours to get ready. I’ve been leaving super early for weeks now. It’s not fair.”