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CHAPTER ONE
Kellen

“You’re kidding, right?” I settle back in the plush leather chair opposite my manager, Brock, refusing to believe my ears. I really want him to be joking, but the look on his face tells me otherwise.

He’s serious. Deadly serious.

“Hell no.” I shake my head. What he’s asking me to do is impossible.

There’s no way in hell I’d agree, and everyone who works for me should already know that. Brock should know that. I’ve been with him long enough.

“Look, son,” he says, steepling his hands beneath his chin as he studies me from behind his oversized mahogany desk. The kind of desk I remember seeing in late-night TV dramas when I was a kid. The ones where the guy sitting behind it is about to lay down the harsh truth that screws over the poor sap across from him.

That poor sap? That’s me.

I always knew the spotlight was fickle, but I didn’t expect it to fade so fast. The look Brock gives me might send younger, more inexperienced fighters running for the hills.

But not me. Not anymore.

Maybe the version of me who walked into his office years ago, but not the version sitting across from him now. Brock might be the godfather of the MMA scene because he makes or breaks careers, but I’m not just anybody. I’m Kellen O’Brien. Undefeated champion and the current poster boy for the sport. What he’s asking me to do isn’t just offensive, it’s unethical.

I don’t know why that surprises me. I know exactly what kind of man Brock is. He’s never bothered to hide it. I’ve always known, but hearing it out loud still stings.

“No, Brock. That’s my final answer.” I meet his steely gaze, unflinching. He might intimidate others, but not me. I could walk out of here and find another manager or promoter in seconds. They’re always braying at the door, waiting for me to leave. The only reason I’m still working with Brock is because of some misplaced sense of loyalty. He gave me a chance when no one else would. “This is supposed to be the biggest fight of our careers.” I scoff, raking a hand through my hair. “I’ve been working my whole life for this and you want me to…” I shake my head, unable to even say the words aloud. Saying them would make them real. I already feel dirty Enough just thinking about it.

“The payout will still be more than enough to retire on,” he says with a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh.

“Forget you and your money, Brock. I’m not doing it.”

His frown deepens, the lines etched between his eyebrows growing more pronounced. “It can still be the biggest fight of your career, Kellen.”

“I’m not a sellout.” I didn’t start this for money or fame. I started because Kody came home bruised one too many times, and the only way I knew how to stop it was to make sure everyone in a hundred-mile radius knew exactly what I was capable of.

“Come on.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’ve always been so idealistic. You know how this business works. The bosses say it’s time to let young blood through the ranks. He’s a good fighter. He deserves a chance.” Brock’s gaze slides away from me, drifting toward the panoramic view of the city from his floor-to-ceiling windows.

“You think I don’t know that? Hell, I’m the one who trained him!”

Brock nods. “And now it’s time for you to step aside, so he can have the same chance you were given when you started.”

“Are you suggesting I didn’t earn my place in this sport? You built this empire off my back, Brock.”

He doesn’t flinch. I don’t expect him to, but I did expect some kind of reaction. Nothing. It’s not a stretch to say my continued wins are what got him this cushy executive suite. He knows it. I know it. And now he wants me to step aside because some internet-famous rookie wants a shot?

“Hell, for all I know, the suits didn’t suggest this. This is all you, isn’t it?” I drag a hand down the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension settling there between my shoulders. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t help. “What, I made you millions, and now you want a new cash cow?”

The nerve of this guy.

I’m not even thirty and so far everyone who’s stepped into the octagon with me has walked out a loser.

“Think about it, Kellen,” Brock says, turning his attention back to me. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desktop. “This kid is good. His following is massive.”

I roll my eyes. “This is a fight, not a popularity contest.” Why does it always come down to social media clout these days? What happened to skill and letting the best man win?

“It’s a massive payout for you. I didn’t get here by making friends, Kellen.” He gestures around his ridiculously sleek, sterile office. The place reeks of small dick energy. The thought makes me smirk, though I quickly wipe it away and replace it with a scowl.

“I don’t need a massive paycheck. I have more than enough to live comfortably.”

“Comfortably.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re a star, Kellen. You should be living like a king. If you do this for yourself now, imagine how big your comeback will be.”

“No.”

“Kellen…”

My temper snaps. I push to my feet so suddenly that Brock sinks back into his chair, like he’s trying to put distance between us without looking weak.

I don’t let him.

I lean forward, planting both palms on his ridiculously oversized desk. “I’m not doing it, Brock. You put that boy in the octagon with me, and he will lose. I’ll make sure of it.”

He blinks twice, slowly. “He’s a good fighter, Kellen. You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do, though.” The kid is talented to be sure. He’s one of the best I’ve seen rise through the ranks. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s not ready for me. “I know it, and so do you. He isn’t ready.”

My voice is steel. “This conversation is over.”

I move between the uncomfortable black leather chairs that are more for show than actual function, making my way to the door. For a second, Brock says nothing. Relief rushes through me.

It’s done.

He asked, I told him to shove it.

End of discussion.

“I heard your brother’s gym back home is struggling. It’d be a shame if it got dragged through the media for a doping scandal.”

I freeze.

Slowly, I turn back around. “My brother has nothing to do with this. He runs a tight ship. He’d never allow cheaters on his floor.”

Brock smirks. “They don’t know that.”

My fists clench at my sides. Every muscle in my body coils, screaming for me to launch across the desk and punch that smug look off his face.

“I made you who you are today, and I can take it all away just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “I can also destroy those you care about. When you walk through that door, Kellen, you better make your next choice very carefully.”

The sound of his fingers snapping echoes in my ears as I whirl back around facing the door. I count to ten. Then again, because the first set didn’t do a single thing. Finally, I yank open the door hard enough that the heavy wood slams into the wall. I smile to myself, imagining the damage on the other side. I glance over my shoulder. “You know what, Brock? You win. I quit.”

CHAPTER TWO
Millie

I don’t usually bring my work home with me. Well, not the baking side of it anyway. But if the oven at the shop hadn’t decided to break the day before New Year’s Eve, I wouldn’t even be running on fumes and measuring out batter like it’s not already past midnight. The client has to pick up their order in time for their party tomorrow. Of course the last-minute cupcake order had thrown a wrench into my entire evening, which was already planned out with a cheesy holiday movie marathon and enough chinese takeout from Mister Cheng’s because I’m chronically single and alone for the new year, but it’s not like I was about to turn away an order even if I did want those egg rolls.

I swipe at a loose strand of hair with the back of my hand, only for it to fall right back into my face. I should cut it. I tell myself that all the time. A hundred times or more each day and then every time I sit in the salon chair, I cave and ask for just a trim. It’s not vanity. It’s just… easy.

Easy to style.

Easy to throw up in a bun on top of my head.

It’s also easy to hide behind.

Although, it does get annoying when it won’t cooperate. Like now. I lean over the mixing bowl, letting out a sigh of relief. No rogue strands. The batter is smooth, creamy, and perfectly fluffy and this is the last batch I have to bake. A few more minutes, until I can put my feet up. At least until it’s time to decorate.

With practiced ease, I scoop even portions into the cupcake liners and slide the tray into the oven. Then, wiping sticky remnants off my fingers onto my denim-clad thigh, I escape to the living room. What I want is a hot shower and my bed. What I get is stolen moments of quiet before the real work begins.

Curling up on the couch, I pull my laptop onto my knees, clicking through emails and scrolling social media, my brain half on autopilot. A blinking notification in the corner of my screen catches my attention. I tap without thinking, expecting another bakery-related post or a message from a late-night customer about how one cupcake had three fewer sprinkles than the rest of a batch.

Yes, the internet is a pain-in-the-ass.

Instead, a familiar stranger flickers to life on my screen.

Kellen O’Brien.

Everyone around here knows who he is, a local legend, born and raised in the same town I call home. I knew that face before it was on posters. Sat two rows behind him in AP English. He borrowed a pen once and said thanks, and I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about it afterward. Back then, he was already extraordinary and I was already invisible. Somehow even after a decade, neither of those things had changed.

I go to his brother’s gym, but not for the same reasons as most. I’m not plugged in to the whole MMA scene. The O’Brien brothers have lots of fans. You know the type. The ones who swoon and stalk their training schedules. Honestly, I can’t blame them. Those men are hot as hell, but I train at Kody’s gym because I need to. Not because I want to. I train because I refuse to ever allow myself to feel powerless again.

So why the hell did his Live broadcast pop up in my social media feed?

I move my finger over the screen, ready to tap away but something about him makes me hesitate. He looks… different. Not like the cocky fighter I’ve seen plastered across gym posters or in highlight reels. Not even like the idealistic version of him I knew back in high school. His dark hair is tousled, his jaw tight, his shoulders stiff like he’s bracing for impact. He looks defeated, which is strange because I’m pretty sure he’s never lost a fight. The contrast between him and the festive Happy New Year filter that the app forces onto everyone’s screens right now is heartbreaking.

His voice breaks through, rough and tired. “Tonight was supposed to be it, guys. The big one.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I know a lot of you are wondering what happened. Why you wasted money on tickets only for me not to be there and for the fight to be called by default.”

The comment section erupts in angry emojis and rapid-fire responses.

I frown, pulling the laptop closer. I hadn’t even realized there was a fight tonight. Not that I would’ve planned to watch it even if I had.

“Everyone will get a refund,” Kellen continues, the strain in his voice carving sharp lines into his face. He has that rugged kind of handsomeness. A strong jaw, high cheekbones, full lips, which I have to fight against thinking about too much but right now he just looks lost.

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I know there are rumors, and I want to set the record straight.”

I stay absolutely transfixed, watching him battle some unseen demon. My heart clenches. I can’t even begin to imagine what must it be like to live under that kind of pressure. To have the entire world watching, waiting for you to slip up? I can barely handle bad Yelp reviews.

“I was asked to forfeit the fight, tonight.” He hisses through gritted teeth.

I suck in a sharp breath.

“I was asked to lose on purpose,” he says again, his voice like gravel. “I want to be clear about this.” He lifts a hand as if to silence the flood of comments. “The guy I was supposed to be in the octagon with tonight is a great fighter. I’ve known him for a while. I respect him and because I do respect him, I want it known that he was not involved in the scheme. My manager, Brock Johnson, is the person responsible. But know this, I will never throw a fight. Not for money, not for politics, not for anyone.”

I stare at the screen, my pulse quickening. I always assumed he had become exactly the type of person the media portrays him as, just another arrogant athlete riding his own hype. But here he is, being the complete opposite of everything they’ve printed about him. Someone with integrity. That’s rare these days.

“By saying no, my career might be over,” he admits. The pain in his voice makes my chest tighten. He shrugs, but it doesn’t carry the same careless charm I expected. “I don’t know what the future holds. I just know I didn’t get into this sport at fifteen years old and push my body to the limit to give up now. I promise, I’ll make tonight up to all of you but I will not cheat for the suits or anyone else.” His gaze locks onto the camera, and for a second, it’s like he’s staring straight at me.

Of course, he isn’t, but before I can stop myself, my fingers move across the keyboard. I type out a response. A simple one. Instinctual.

You did the right thing.

I can’t help but remember the warmth in his eyes that I’d become secretly fond of in high school and was distinctly missing from them now.

What would your 16-year-old self say to you tonight? I bet he’d be proud of you.

What the hell did I just do? I don’t know this guy like that. Who am I to ask him that? Panic surges through me. I stare at the screen, debating if I should delete the comment. My heart pounds, my cheeks flood with heat.

A loud, blaring beep fills the room.

The smoke alarm.

Ah well, he’ll probably never see it anyway, I think to myself as I shove the laptop aside and sprint to the kitchen. The acrid scent of burnt sugar hits me first.

Then I see them…

My cupcakes, charred at the edges, smoke curling out from the oven.

So much for putting my feet up.

CHAPTER THREE
Kellen

What would your 16-year-old self say to you tonight?

In my mindless ramble—and honestly, it is a mindless ramble because I have no clue what I’m going to say when I click the live button—it’s the one comment that catches my eye.

One among hundreds, maybe thousands, of comments, and that’s the one my brain fixates on.

Why?

I couldn’t tell you.

It isn’t overly positive or some sycophant telling me I can do no wrong. It’s not a hater, either. There are plenty of them tonight, but I’ve gotten pretty good at filtering those out mentally.

It’s just a simple question, but…

Damn! It makes me think.

What would my younger self say to this me? Would he be proud? I don’t know. He might be disappointed. I sure as hell am.

There’s a gnawing pit of nerves eating away at my insides.

It’s different from pre-fight nerves.

At least when I step into the octagon, I know what’s in store for me.

Violence.

By not turning up to tonight’s fight, I have ended my career. I know that. What I don’t know is what comes next. That is the scariest thing I have ever had to face. Scarier than getting my face split open, scarier than maybe losing. I know how to prepare for those things. I have no idea how to deal with the unknown.

I stare at the screen in front of me. Sleek, modern, top-of-the-line. Paid for with the money I’ve won over the years. My gaze drifts around the penthouse I call home. Expensive furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, a view people would kill for. But for the first time, I really see it. None of this is me. It’s just a curated version of success, the kind that looks good in interviews but feels hollow when you’re alone in it.

A knock at the door makes me flinch. Tightening my grip on the armrest, I hesitate before calling out, “Yeah?”

The door cracks open, and Lydia, my house manager, steps inside. Composed and efficient. And dressed in her usual tailored black slacks and a crisp blouse with an iPad in hand. “I saw the livestream,” she says evenly. “You’ll be getting calls. PR will want a statement. Your agent left a message for you.”

I run a hand over my temples and drag it down my face. “Of course they did.”

She doesn’t move or say anything else as she watches me with her head tilted slightly.

“What?” I ask, exhaling sharply.

She purses her lips. “I’ve worked for you for three years. You don’t usually hesitate.”

I frown. “Hesitate?”

“Before making a move. Before speaking. Before acting. You always know what you’re doing. Even when you don’t.” She glances at the darkened screen. “But tonight, you’re different.”

I look away. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Lydia nods once, efficient. “Do you need me to handle the calls?”

I should say yes. That’s the whole reason I pay her, so I don’t have to deal with this. But for some reason, the idea of someone else controlling the narrative of my life again makes my stomach twist. “No,” I say, finally. “Not yet.”

She studies me for another long moment, then gives a short nod and turns to leave. Before she closes the door, she hesitates. “For what it’s worth, I think your seventeen-year-old self would say you did something brave tonight.”

The door clicks shut before I can respond.

I think he would be ashamed. He would look at me with the same eyes that sometimes stare back at me from the mirror. He would shake his head, call me a sellout.

I didn’t start fighting for money.

My throat tightens.

The comment is gone now, swallowed up a while ago by the endless stream of words flooding in.

The way of social media. Moments don’t last, not even for people like me.

Especially, not for people like me.

I’m not exactly Mr. Nobody.

Some people even throw the word famous around when talking about me, like I’m some kind of celebrity instead of an athlete. But what the hell does that even mean?

What am I now?

Who am I now?

I don’t know.

I exhale sharply, realizing I’ve been silent too long. People are already out there thinking I’ve lost my mind after the stunt I just pulled. No need to add more fuel to that fire. “So…” I force out a breath. My voice feels rough, unused. “I don’t really know what’s in store for me now.”

Staring down the camera, I can almost feel the weight of those three-thousand sets of eyes staring back at me through the live stream that’s muted but still connected.

Well, not me exactly.

They only see my image.

The persona created for me by the machine that runs things behind the scenes.

I tap to unmute the microphone and suck in a deep breath. “All I know,” I say, clearing my throat, “is that I couldn’t throw the fight like I was asked. You all deserve better than that. You expect me to do better.”

The younger version of me deserves better too.

Again, the comment flashes in my mind. It has really gotten to me, and I don’t entirely know why.

“So I am going to do better. And…” I force a smile, the one I reserve for press conferences, the one that always works. “And I hope you’ll stick around to watch it unfold. There is no Kellen O’Brien brand without you guys.”

The screen erupts with hearts, thousands of them. They fill the chat box, fast and endless. I lift a hand in a quick wave and reach out with the other to end the stream. As the livestream ends, I lean back in my chair with my legs kicked out.

Now what?

That’s the question. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Without thinking, I move my finger over the trackpad, scrolling up and up through the flood of comments. Most of them are praise, telling me how brave I am, how handsome, asking if I’ll send them a muscle daddy video in the DMs.

You know, the usual.

There’s only one comment I have any interest in replying to, and it’s probably the only one I shouldn’t. It takes me two full passes through the comments to find it again. SweetMuffins4Life.

Frowning, I click the name. Instead of a reply box, I find myself staring at a profile.

The profile grid is so ridiculously sweet. Pink. Soft. Full of pictures of baked confections, including some shaped like unicorns and cartoon characters. Something about the account pulls at the back of my mind. It’s probably nothing. It says they’re from Oak Valley. I grew up there and still go back to see my brother regularly. I’ve probably just seen the shop when I’ve been in town.

There’s a personal account linked but I can’t see anything on it without adding her as a friend, and I’m not about to do that. She’s a fan. The last thing I need is for her to think I’m crossing some invisible line.

Except I’m already crossing a line. I know it.

One click, and a message box pops up. My fingers hover over the keys. I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t know this girl. I don’t owe her an explanation. I don’t owe anyone anything.

And yet…

My fingers twitch at the keys.

Then, before I can second-guess myself, I type one single word.

Hello.

CHAPTER FOUR
Millie

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon fills the air as I wipe down the counter for what feels like the hundredth time today. My little café is cozy, intimate and exactly the kind of place I always dreamed of owning. But right now, I just need to get out the door.

“Another scone for the road?” Mrs. Wright, one of my regulars, smiles sweetly at me from her usual spot by the window.

“Of course,” I say automatically, heading toward the glass display case. But when I reach for a scone, I realize I’m out. Biting back a groan, I turn toward the back. “Give me just a sec, Mrs. W. I need to grab more.”

I push through the swinging door into the kitchen, scanning the racks for tomorrow’s batch. The timer on the oven taunts me, still five minutes left. Great. Just great. “I can stay and close if you need to go, Millie,” Emily, my teenage part-timer, offers as she wipes down the espresso machine. “It’s not a big deal.”

I hesitate. It would be easy to hand over the keys and run out the door, but the thought of leaving the shop alone at night sends a chill through me. My fingers brush the scar on my wrist, a reminder of the night I was attacked while locking up. I shake my head. “Thanks, Emily, but I’ve got it.” I can’t leave her alone knowing what type of threats lurk after closing time.

She nods, returning to her work as I lean against the counter, waiting impatiently for the timer to ding. The second it does, I grab a scone, plate it, and rush it out to Mrs. Wright, who beams at me.

“You’re a sweetheart, dear.”

I force a smile, but inside, I’m screaming.

By the time I finally tug off my apron and grab my gym bag, Emily’s already flipped the sign to Closed and is right behind me as I lock up the door. “See you tomorrow, Millie!” Emily calls as she falls into the passenger’s side of her parents’ four door sedan with her older brother in the driver’s seat.

I check the time on my phone as I sprint over to where my car is waiting for me. Great. I’m already late and haven’t even pulled out of the parking lot yet.

Early mornings and early finishes. That’s what my life is supposed to be. But somehow, it never works out that way. Being a business owner, even when that business is my whole world, is harder than I ever imagined. No one ever tells you about all the behind-the-scenes chaos. Or maybe they do, and I’m just too stubborn to listen? That seems more likely, honestly.

Still, running my café is a hundred times harder than I expected. I’m exhausted. All I want is to go home, kick off my shoes, and sink into my bed, but that’s not happening. It’s Thursday night, which means self-defense class. It’s something I’ve been religiously attending for the last eight months. The next time someone tries to take what I’ve worked so hard for, I’ll be ready. Not that I’m any good. I’m not about to step into a ring, but I know the basics. I can hold my own.

Finally, I see the orange and white Locker Room sign hanging over the gym. There’s a row of three orange lockers with an arm curling a barbell in the middle of it. I aim my car toward one of the few open parking spots at the very back of the lot and throw it into park.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I sprint toward the brightly lit entrance, shivering as the night air nips at my exposed skin. I barely have time to nod at the blonde behind the counter as I’m rushing through the gym doors. “I’m late, but can I still…”

“Sorry, Millie.” My instructor stands at the front of the room, arms crossed, expression firm but apologetic. “You know the rules. I can’t make an exception for you.” She turns to look behind her through the glass windows where the class I should be in is currently going through their warm ups.

I swallow my frustration and nod. “No worries.” Which is exactly what I say when I’m full of nothing but worry. I can’t believe I missed—

“But you can stay for Kody’s class if you want,” she adds, tilting her head toward the other training room. “There’s space. He starts in about five minutes.”

“Kody?” The name alone makes my stomach twist. Kody O’Brien, the gym owner and professional fighter. I’d come to this gym because it had the best self-defense program in the area. Not because I ever expected to be in the same room as one of the O’Brien brothers ever again. The idea of stepping onto the mat with him sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me. “He’s a little intense, isn’t he?”

She narrows her eyes at me.

It’s not like I have much of a choice. I’m not about to miss a night and let that be the reason some asshole gets to turn me into their victim later. “Okay,” I sigh, resigning myself to my fate. “That’d be great.”

“You joining my class tonight, ma’am?” The deep, amused voice sends a jolt of surprise through me. Whipping around, I find myself face-to-face with Kody himself. His lips curl up with the kind of slow, self-assured grin that would make my knees go weak under different circumstances. The fact that there’s actually a spot open in his class is nothing short of a miracle.

“Looks like it,” I say with a nod, straining to keep my tone neutral.

“You don’t sound too sure.” His sharp green eyes gleam with amusement. “Nervous?”

I straighten my shoulders and stick out my chin. “Not even a little.” Maybe if he believes it then I will too.

His smirk deepens. “You sure about that, Millie?”

“You know my name?” I ask, feeling my face wrinkle as my eyebrows pinch together.

He nods and tilts his head toward my usual instructor, Kate. “I heard you two talking.”

“Right,” I say, dragging my tongue along the back side of my teeth. “That makes sense.” Groan. Of course he didn’t remember me from the years we spent in school together.

“Come on, then,” he tilts his head and motions for me to follow as he moves toward the other side of the building. “I’ll try to ease you into it.” he calls back over his shoulder.

“Oh, I can take whatever you throw at me.”

He turns around at that and bares his teeth in a full-blown grin. “Let’s go then.” He throws up his fist and just… waits.

I blink at it for half a second too long before I lift mine and knock my knuckles awkwardly against his. “Bring it on.” I say it with more bravado than I feel, but I’ll be damned if I let him see me sweat.

***

The training room is bigger than I expected, with padded walls and mirrored panels that reflect my own nervous expression back at me. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and rubber mats. It’s already more intense than the self-defense class I normally take as the room fills with men who look like they were built to be here.

You know the type.

Broad shoulders, defined muscles in their neck that are bigger than my entire head. The kind of people who move with confidence.

The exact opposite of me.

I find a spot toward the back, stretching while trying to look casual.

Kody moves through the room with an easy authority, talking with some of the regulars, correcting a stance here, adjusting a posture there. When his gaze finally lands on me, he grins. That same cocky, knowing grin that makes my stomach twist into knots. “Are you okay, new girl?” he calls out.

I nod.

“Ready?” he calls out, raising his voice and turning his attention back to the entire class.

“Let’s go!” echoes back at him from all the voices in the room, except mine.

Kody doesn’t do the same warm-ups as my usual class. There’s no gentle easing into it. We go straight into conditioning drills that he calls warm ups and that leave my legs burning and my lungs on fire. Then it’s footwork, basic striking combinations, takedown defense. I’m so focused on keeping up and not looking weak, that I barely notice the time passing.

When Kody finally pairs me with a sparring partner, a guy named Matt, who’s got at least a foot on me. I brace myself. Matt’s careful with his approach, clearly holding back as he jabs one arm out.

I don’t want anyone to go easy on me. I’m here to learn and get stronger, not to be coddled.

“She can handle it,” Kody calls out as if he’s reading my mind. “Give her a real shot.”

Matt nods once and does as his coach told him. His jab isn’t full force, by any means. But it’s enough to force me to react, testing my reflexes. I move, dodging one of his attempts at a blow. I counter with a block. It’s messy, but I’m doing it.

I’ve done a lot of hard things in my life.

Starting my own business.

Fighting off an opportunistic punk who wanted to take everything from me.

But this…

This is the moment I’m most proud of because I’m getting stronger by choice instead of a lack of other options. Standing in the middle of the floor, holding my own against one of Kody O’Brien’s advanced students.

By the time the class wraps up, I’m drenched in sweat, my muscles trembling. But for the first time in a long time, I feel strong. My muscles ache already. I don’t even want to think about how much I’ll hurt tomorrow. Is it worth it, though? Hell yes. I actually feel like I learned something.

“You did well tonight, Millie.” He playfully nudges my shoulder as I walk toward the main exit, freshly showered and changed out of my sweat-soaked workout gear. “Thanks, Kody.”

“Will we be seeing you in class again, next week?”

Pausing just before the doors that lead out to the dark parking lot, I glance up at him. “You have space next week too? I thought you were just being nice since I was late for my usual class.”

“I’ll make room,” he says with the type of lazy smile that would make most women feel weak in the knees but the pull I feel to him is different. “It’s nice to have a woman in there who’s actually interested in learning and not just…” He trails off, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

He’s right though. I want to learn from him and not ride his celebrity-adjacent image seeking my own spotlight or jump into bed with him. Although, it’s easy to see why the rumor mill says so many women do. After a second, I join him with a light-hearted chuckle of my own. “Well, your body is safe with me, Kody. I have no interest in it.”

“Glad to hear it. Shall I walk you to your car?” he asks, gesturing toward the door with a quick nod. “It’s pretty empty out there.”

Shaking my head, I pat the bag slung across my shoulders. “Taser. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“Any time, Millie.”

“Have a good weekend, Kody.” I push through the doors and head to my car. Kody’s a great teacher, but I don’t need the gossip mill adding my name to the list of women suspected of falling victim to his charm. Especially since I have absolutely no interest in him. I might have been wrong about Kellen, but I’m positive the rumors are pretty spot on with his younger brother. The owner of O’Brien’s Gym is a bit of a player. Unluckily for all the ladies in town, he has the looks and charisma to go with it.

Still feeling powerful after the training session, I jog to my car and close the distance quickly. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I start the car and pull out of the lot. My house is less than a mile away, so I let out a sigh of relief. The day is finally slowing down. As soon as I reach my house and let myself in through the door in my garage, I toss my gym bag on the kitchen floor perched against the wall right by the door and kick off my shoes, so they’ll both be easy to grab again in the morning on the way out. I drag my tired self to the living room and flop face-first onto the couch.

If I have my way, I won’t move from this position for the rest of the night.

My laptop pings on the table and I see the screen lighting up almost angrily as I peer out of one side of my smooshed eye.

Ugh!

Rolling onto my side, I reach for it, scanning the dozen or so notifications that have come through since I last checked last night. Nothing important. They can all wait until after I eat and…

Pausing, I frown at the DM notifications displayed on the screen as Kellen’s name and profile image pops up among them.

That can’t be right.

There is no way he would go out of his way to message me.

“Stupid scammers,” I grumble as I swipe at the screen to delete and block.

But… the tick by his name says he’s verified.

“Those can be bought, though.”

I tap the obviously stock photo being used as a profile image to see how many followers the account has. I almost fall off the couch as the profile loads onto the screen.

Hello.

One simple word, but my stomach does a weird sort of somersault anyway.

What is Kellen O’Brien doing messaging me? I mean, what are the odds, considering I was just training with his brother? Did Kody put him up to it? Ugh. I knew better than taking that class.

I check the time stamp.

It came through last night. That means it couldn’t have been Kody or because I took his class tonight.

Oh. The message was sent right after I left a comment on his live. Actually, that makes sense. Maybe he’s replying to each comment with a thank-you message to drive engagement and put a positive PR spin on the whole thing.

Except… it’s not a thank-you message.

It’s a hello. That’s it.

Sending someone hello and nothing else means you want to start a conversation with them.

Kellen wants to talk to me?

That’s ridiculous.

I’m being ridiculous.

It doesn’t make much sense, but I’m not about to leave our hometown hero and superstar of the octagon on read. That would be rude.

Hey.

Smooth, Millie. Real smooth.

I slam the laptop shut and groan in defeat. Awkward and ridiculous. That’s me. It’ll always be me. Whatever. I grab the remote and throw myself back onto the sofa, letting the cushions attempt to swallow my body whole as I settle in for the night.

Ding.

What the hell?

I ignore the sound as I scroll through my recently watched list, trying to find the episode I left off on.

Ding.

It’s probably just Emily telling me that she’s going to be late tomorrow.

Ding.

She’s not a rapid fire texter. All of her words come through at once, like a wall of text. One of my favorite things about her. She doesn’t leave you guessing.

Maybe it’s just an order coming in. The people who find the bakery through social media are so high strung, they usually send at least five messages just to ask where the price list is on the website.

I sit up and pull the laptop over, so I can check the notifications but I had left the chat with Kellen open, so when I unlock the screen I see three little dots appear immediately… and they’re bouncing.

He’s replying.

He responded to my hey so fast, it’s almost like he was waiting for me to reply. I shake the thought away. That’s just silly. Men like Kellen don’t wait around for nobodies like me to reply.

Hi, I wanted to reach out to you.

Your question last night really got me thinking.

Thank you for that.

I forget to hold myself up and slide down the sofa like a slinky being pushed down a flight of stairs. By butt hits the floor with a thud. I pull my legs underneath me, sitting crisscross-applesauce as I pull the computer back onto my lap.

No worries at all.

It sounds like quite a mess they’re throwing at you.

I hope everything works out for you.

I cringe and bury my face in my hands. My reply is almost dismissive, and I know it but I can’t help it. I’ve watched Catfish. I’m not about to be one of those poor girls who fall for the celebrity who doesn’t actually know they exist and then ends up in bankruptcy because they sent their entire lifesavings to NOTBrad Pitt.

No siree.

Not me.

Not Millie Mae.

When I look back at the screen I see the three dots next to Kellen’s name bouncing then stopping. Bouncing, then stopping. I instantly feel regret punch me in the gut.

So…

I hit send to by myself time to formulate my thought. The irony is not lost on me. I promise.

What was your answer to the question?

There’s a long pause but my breath hitches in my throat when those dots start bouncing again.

Do you actually want to know?

CHAPTER FIVE
Kellen

The bar is the same as it has always been. Dim lighting, the scent of spilled beer and fried food clinging to the air with the familiar hum of conversation hovering just slightly over the sound of the curated playlist coming through the speakers. A couple of guys I knew in high school crowd around the pool table in the corner and Gus—the owner—gives me a nod as he wipes up a spill with one hand and pulls a bottle of my brand out, sliding it across the countertop with the other.

I catch it easily and take a quick swig and settle into a freshly vacated stool in front of the bar. I tug the bill of my ballcap down farther to obscure my eyes. The last thing I need is to get identified here tonight and have to put on the showman’s smile. I’m really not in the mood for that tonight. Honestly, I don’t know why I came here. I’m not in the mood to drink, but I’m not in the mood to stay locked in at home either.

A bottle of beer sits cold in my hand, condensation dripping onto my fingers. I take a sip, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue. I’d been in town four days, initially holed up in a hotel downtown until Kody caught wind of it and dragged me to his place. He hadn’t given me much choice in the matter.

“Kellen!” Kody shouts over the noise as he barrels through the crowd without a single excuse me, shouldering his way over like he owns the place.

“Christ,” I hiss under my breath but before I can fully react, he walks up and presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to my hair.

I shove at his shoulder. “Knock it off.”

He grins because he knows I hate it. That’s the whole point. “I didn’t expect to see you again until Christmas, at least.” He slides into the stool opposite me, his wiry frame folding in like he belongs there. “Do you suddenly find yourself with some spare time on your hands?”

His wink is enough to make my jaw tighten. I take another sip of my beer instead of answering.

“What’s wrong, Kell?” He chuckles, leaning back and resting his palms on top of his thighs. “Didn’t think you’d find yourself back here so soon?You always said…”

I pull the bottle away from my lips. “Yeah. I said I wouldn’t come back,” I admit, cutting him off before he can finish that sentence. “At least, not to live. A quick visit doesn’t count as going back on my word.”

My phone vibrates, and before I can stop myself, my gaze flicks down.

New message from SweetMuffins4Life.

I had thought she was brushing off the conversation with her first reply, so I had closed the app, shoved my phone in my pocket and came here to distract myself before I flooded her inbox.

Of course, I do.

But I understand if it’s an answer you want to give yourself first.

My brows pull together. “What the hell does she mean by that?”

Silly girl, with her fluffy animals and cutesy social media posts, acting like she knows me. Just because she asked one thought-provoking question doesn’t mean she has me figured out. I exhale sharply and drop my phone onto the table. It lands with a thud, causing Kody’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Manager problems?”

I shake my head. “Nope. That’s already done and over.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, bringing his own drink to his mouth. “I saw that.”

“The whole world saw that.”

He nearly chokes on his drink as he tries to stifle a laugh but his eyes gleam with amusement. “Most definitely girl problems, then, huh?” he spits out between coughs.

“Shut up.” The response is out before I can stop it.

That only makes him laugh harder. “Oh, this is good. Who the hell is she?”

“No one.”

“Right.” He takes a slower sip this time with his eyes locked onto me over the rim. He doesn’t need to say a word. His smirk says it all.

My phone buzzes again in my hand.

My fingers twitch to check it.

Kody catches the movement immediately. “No one, huh? Then why do you look like a teenager waiting for a text back from your crush?”

“No clue. It’s just someone I was talking to earlier.” I grit my teeth and shove the phone into my pocket. “You have my undivided attention.”

“Well, I don’t want your attention but you sure as hell have mine.” He leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean someone you were talking to? Like, chit-chat talking? Or is this more of a ‘Hey, babe. Here’s my room key situation?”

My lips press into a thin line.

Kody doesn’t wait. “Oh,” he drawls, laughing as he leans back. “You’re talking to a woman online, aren’t you? What is she like?”

I hate that I don’t know the answer to that question, and I hate how funny he thinks this is and I hate his stupid face right now.

There’s nothing funny about it.

“It’s not like that,” I mutter.

His smirk widens. “Then what is it like?”

I hesitate.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He holds up a hand, his grin turning downright evil.

“You don’t know the answer do you?”

I clear my throat.

He stills, then leans in. “Kellen.”

My fingers drum against the table. “We just started chatting today.”

“Tell me you at least know what she looks like.”

I huff out a loud exhale as I drag one hand down the back of my neck. “I haven’t seen a picture of her.”

Silence.

Immediately broken by the sound of Kody howling like a dog. “Oh, this just keeps getting better! You? Kellen O’Brien? Are talking to a woman online? And you have no idea what she looks like?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge deal.” He folds his arms across his chest. “So, what? She’s got you hooked with? Her personality? How wholesome of you.”

I exhale sharply, dragging my right hand down my face. “You’re an idiot.”

“Whatever. You’re not answering any of my questions.”

“She asked a question on last night’s live that made me stop and think. I sent her a message to say thank you, and…” Even to my own ears, it sounds weak.

“You sent her a message?” His brows shoot up. “Whoa. She must be a stunner for you to do that.” He whistles low between his teeth.

“I told you, already. I have no idea what she looks like.”

His smirk doesn’t falter. “Bull.”

I ignore him, pulling my phone back out and staring at her last message again. The words sit there, lingering on my screen.

I understand if it’s an answer you want to give yourself first.

Annoying.

Annoying, because she’s right.

Annoying, because I don’t want to think about it.

But I can’t stop myself because now the seed is already planted deep down in the soil of my brain.

Sigh.

I stare across the table at Kody, the same scrawny kid I spent my childhood protecting. The one who came home bruised and beaten one too many times.

The same kid who turned into the guy I’d really like to deck right now. Just to knock that stupid smirk off his face…

And there it is.

The answer to her question.

My younger self would be ashamed of the man I’ve become.

I started this to help people, to protect my brother.

I never wanted to hurt anyone

And I sure as hell never wanted to make money from hurting other people.

Uh…

I hope you don’t think badly of me now. X

The words are typed and sent before I can second-guess them.

I sit on the stool staring at my screen, my jaw hung open and my eyes so wide they’re starting to sting. “Why the hell did I put an X?” That’s not something I do.

My brother howls so drammatically he nearly falls off his seat.

Ding.

I don’t think badly of you, Kellen.

I think what you did was brave.

It takes a lot of strength to stand up and say I don’t want to do this anymore, especially with the weight of the world on your back.

“No X at the end of her message,” my brother adds as he peers over the top of my phone from his perch on his stool.

“Thank you for that.” I flick my tongue against my teeth, shaking my head as I shove him back into his own seat. “Why would there be? I don’t even know why I sent one in the first place.”

Thank you.

That means a lot.

“Oh my god, dude. You’ve been isolated in your ivory tower too long. We’ve gotta get you out there playing the field more. Your game is weak AF.”

He literally said A. F. Didn’t even say the words and he’s trying to give me dating advice? “Shut up.”

My phone dings with another incoming message.

Before I can open it, Kody’s smug voice cuts through the moment. “So, who is this mystery woman?”

My hand clenches into a fist instinctively and I hear the phone creak in agony under the pressure. I let go too fast and nearly drop the stupid thing on the table. “I told you. I don’t know. It’s nothing.”

He arches a brow, unconvinced.

My phone dings again.

My fingers twitch.

Kody’s smirk grows. “Nothing, huh? Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, big brother.” He’s still smirking as I toss some cash onto the table and push myself off the stool. “I’ve gotta go.”

His expression turns incredulous. “Wait, that’s it? I finally get to see you all broody over a girl and you’re just gonna leave?”

“I’m not broody.”

“Right, of course not,” he drawls, eyes glinting with amusement. “That’s why you’ve been checking your phone like a teenager.”

I shoot him a look, but it only makes his grin widen.

“Fine, go. But don’t think I’m letting this drop,” he calls as I make my way toward the door. “I will get details.”

I shake my head, stepping outside. The night air is warm and heavy with the scent of nearby rain. The sound of nightlife gently hums around me. It’s still early, so it hasn’t grown into a full-blown roar yet. My thoughts swirl around the last twenty-four hours, broken only by the occasional roar of an engine or the murmur of voices lingering from the sidewalk as I make my way toward my rental. I finally reach my truck across the street from the bar and tug my phone from my pocket before unlocking the door.

She hasn’t replied.

Not that she needs to.

She already said more than I expected.

I think what you did was brave.

I read the words again, as if they might change. As if they might suddenly make more sense. But they don’t. I get a lot of messages—weird praise and admiration style love bombs, flirty DMs, a lot of unsolicited pics, but this…

This feels different.

Just…

Real conversation.

My fingers hover over the keyboard display, then I shake my head and tap the button to turn off the screen.

What the hell am I even doing? Sitting here, waiting on a response from someone I barely know.

You don’t know her at all, douchebag.

I tap the button on my key to unlock the door and climb into the truck, tossing my phone onto the passenger seat. But as soon as I pull out of the parking lot, my hand twitches toward it again. I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Get a grip, O’Brien.”

But the problem is, I don’t have a grip.

I’m unraveling.

And it’s not just because of her.

It’s everything.

The fights, the expectations, the money, the way my life has turned into this endless cycle of training, press, fights, recovery.

Rinse and repeat.

What the hell am I even fighting for anymore?

I left this town years ago, swearing I’d do what I needed to do to make life better for all of us. But here I am, in the same parking lot I used to sneak beers in, the same roads I used to drive down, the same emptiness weighing down my chest.

And somehow, this girl, this complete stranger, has seen right through me.

My fingers tap against the wheel as I sit at a stoplight waiting for my turn to go.

Screw it.

I grab my phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe.

You still awake?

It’s impulsive, yes.

I don’t even know if I want her to answer, because if she answers then what would I even say back to that?

The truck idles in front of the red light, the glow washing over my hands.

Then, three little dots appear bouncing in the corner of the screen.

Yeah. Can’t sleep.

I exhale, releasing my grip on the steering wheel slightly. Enough to allow my knuckles to regain their color as I read her message. I want to reply, so I pull over onto the shoulder.

Something on your mind?

It doesn’t take long before her reply pops up on the screen.

I could ask you the same thing.

I smirk to myself. Smartass.

Touché.

There’s a pause that causes me to scowl at the screen then another message pops up.

Tell me something real.

Something real?

My fingers hover over the screen.

I consider making a lame joke to keep it surface-level, just like I do with everyone else.

I could deflect and ask her to go first.

But I don’t.

Sometimes, I think about quitting.

The second I send it, my pulse kicks up. I don’t say that kind of thing out loud. Not to the media. Not to my team. Not to anyone.

But it’s the truth.

It’s real.

She doesn’t respond right away, which makes the muscles in my chest pull tight. I pull into the hotel parking lot try to release the building tension as the weight of my own admission settles over me.

If that gets out to the press…

Ding!

Sometimes the hardest part isn’t quitting.

It’s figuring out who you are outside of the thing that’s defined you for so long.

I stare at the screen.

Because she gets it.

Not just the surface-level struggle, but the why of it all. The thing gnawing at the edges of my mind, keeping me up at night, making me question every decision that led me here.

You sound like you know what I’m talking about.

I might.

What do you do?

I own a small business.

That doesn’t tell me very much but it tells me something. She’s a fighter.

Have you ever thought about quitting?

Once.

And did you?

Quit, I mean?

No.

Not yet, anyway.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the windshield.

Guess that makes two of us.

It sounds like it.

The silence between messages stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable.

I don’t want to stop talking to her.

I want to keep peeling back layers, finding out what else is behind the cute baking posts and witty comments.

But it’s late.

She needs sleep.

And I need to get off the side of the road.

You should try to get some rest.

Hi Pot. I’m Kettle.

I don’t try to fight back the chuckle that comes out of me when I read her response. She doesn’t pull punches and I like it.

Goodnight, Kellen.

It’s stupid, how much I like seeing my name in her messages.

Goodnight.

I lock my phone, leaning back in the seat with a frown pulling at my face. I don’t even know her name. Hmm. Guess that’s the first thing on my list of things to learn about this woman.

***

My alarm blares at six a.m.

I groan, dragging a hand over my face before blindly reaching for my phone. Dozens of notifications flitter across the screen.

A few from my trainer.

One from my manager.

And none I actually want to answer.

Before I can second-guess it, my fingers move on their own opening the

chat with SweetMuffins4Life.

What’s your name?

CHAPTER SIX
Millie

What’s your name?

I smile before I can help myself. Rolling onto my back, blinking against the soft morning light creeping through my curtains. I stare at the screen, my fingers grazing the edge of my phone. It’s ridiculous, really. How just a simple message can make my stomach dip and my heart do that stupid, fluttery thing.

It’s silly.

But it’s true.

Yeah, we messaged back and forth until the early hours, but it was just friendly. Maybe a little cheeky. Like two old friends having a laugh. That’s what it had felt like. Comfortable and easy.

Now he wants to know my name?

I guess that makes sense. If it felt like old friends, but we weren’t really friends. Friends know each other’s name.

Should I tell him my name?

No, that’s getting too close. Even if by some small chance he remembers AP English, it would just be too weird. He’d probably think I’ve been following his entire career since high school, which I haven’t. Oak Valley does enough of that for the rest of us. I could tell him my name and just see if he remembers…

No. It’d just be too weird. I need to keep training at Kody’s gym and can’t afford to be laughed out of my gym membership, so I type out a quick response.

Good morning.

Very original, Millie.

You’re up early.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I guess he wasn’t deterred by my lack of originality and, if I’m honest with myself, I’m glad he wasn’t. The air outside my cozy blanket cocoon is cool and the light stings my eyeballs like a pack of angry hornets. A reminder that I should have gone to bed earlier, but I don’t regret it.

Have to open the shop.

What’s your excuse?

The dots beside his profile immediately start bouncing up and down and I try but fail to resist the urge to watch them until his next message pops up on my screen.

Up early to train.

It’s habit now.

And just like that, we fall into the conversation, bouncing messages back and forth, light and easy. Just like last night. Each ping of my phone sends a fresh wave of anticipation curling through me. I catch myself grinning, the kind of smile that’s impossible to suppress, even though no one is around to witness it. It shouldn’t be this easy.

It shouldn’t feel like we’ve been talking for years instead of a handful of hours.

But somehow, it does.

I can hear his voice in my head, teasing, warm. The way he phrases things, the little X at the end of his earlier message, it all feels… good.

Like two people who get each other, even though we technically don’t know anything about each other.

Why is this so easy?

Are you going to answer my question from this morning?

Or…

The familiarity evaporates.

A cold weight settles in my stomach.

There it is.

He doesn’t know my name. He also doesn’t know what I look like. The moment he does, everything will change. I’ve seen the women he’s usually photographed with. The kind of effortless perfection that makes you feel like you’re wearing last season’s skin. I’m not insecure. I know I’m relatively attractive. When I go out, I get attention but I’m not that kind of pretty. Not the kind that turns heads at VIP tables or ends up in gossip columns.

Not that it matters.

Not that I think he’s even interested in me like that.

But it would change things.

It always does.

I roll onto my stomach and groan into my pillow.

Why can’t things be simple?

I sit up, rubbing my hands over my face. I shouldn’t be upset. This isn’t…anything. It’s just conversation.

I shove my phone under my pillow and push off the bed, heading toward the bathroom.

Ding!

I practically dive under my pillow for my phone without even thinking

about it. How did I get this wrapped up, this fast?

Did I say something wrong? X

I freeze, staring at the screen.

That ridiculous little X. The one that makes my stomach do flips, while simultaneously making me feel like I want to throw up.

My throat tightens.

Because he noticed I pulled back.

And he cared enough to ask.

Then he put that X at the end again.

And I like it.

UGH!

I hate how much I like it.

I could answer.

I could make a joke out of it. Just brush it off and pretend I didn’t just have a minor crisis over something that shouldn’t even matter.

But I don’t.

Instead, I toss my phone onto the bed, hard enough that it bounces once before settling and I walk away.

My feet drag as I shuffle myself into the bathroom and away from whatever the hell this is turning into.

I press my back against the door and take a slow, steady inhale. The familiar scent of vanilla shampoo and citrus soap clings to the air.

Soft, comforting, ordinary. The space is neat and controlled. The towel is folded perfectly over the rack, the countertop wiped clean, everything exactly as I left it last night. I grip the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection in all its early morning glory with messy hair and tired eyes. My fingers press into the cold porcelain as I let out a slow breath. This is ridiculous. It’s just a conversation. A little late-night fun.

Nothing.

It’s nothing.

I shouldn’t reply. I should let it fade, let him forget about this silly little conversation sooner rather than later.

This is a bad idea.

I know it’s a bad idea.

Instead, I turn the shower on, watching steam curl against the mirror as the water heats up. Maybe a scalding-hot shower will scrub away the stupid flutter in my stomach. Whatever this is, it’s already gone on too long. Nothing can come from it. Nothing should come from it. So why the hell do I want to pick up my phone and reply?

***

The bathroom is still full of steam, the mirror fogged over like I could disappear into the mist if I let myself. The cool tile beneath my feet, the soft cotton of my towel, the burn of hot water still clinging to my skin. My mind is a mess, tangled between logic and impulse, but the setting around me is calm, a direct contradiction to the whirlwind inside me.

I blow out a huff and step back into my room, grabbing my phone without thinking. A quick flick of my thumb lights up the screen. I still can’t bring myself to respond. Instead, I stare at the screen with my stomach twisting.

I knew the question would come up. It’s normal that he’d ask who I was. That I’d have to give him a name, something real. But that feels like a line I shouldn’t cross.

And not just because I train at his brother’s gym. He was the Oak Valley golden boy, already being scouted, and I was the quiet girl who was also kind of weird. As far as I could tell, he didn’t even know I existed.

Not really.

I knew that then and I know it now.

If I give him my name and he pieces it together, there are exactly two outcomes. He doesn’t remember me at all, which will confirm everything I already believe about how much space I occupy in his world. Or he does remember me, and he realizes I’m that girl. The quiet one on the edges. The one who watched from hallways he breezed through without once looking back.

I could text my friend Ella about this. She’d tell me I was being ridiculous and to just give him the name, which is exactly why I am not texting Ella.

I’d rather be SweetMuffins4Life forever than find out which outcome is worse.

No thanks.

I’d rather avoid that kind of mess entirely. And besides, I have more confidence in my responses to him than I’ve felt in years and if I give him my name and that anonymity goes away…

I don’t want to lose that part of me again.

I chew my lip, debating how to answer.

You don’t need to know my name to flirt with my personality, do you?

It’s a deflection, but not a total lie. I hold my breath, watching the little dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.

Touché, SweetMuffin.

Phew.

Crisis averted.

For now.

But I’ll get it out of you eventually.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, tossing my phone onto the bed like it’s burning me. Kellen O’Brien might get a lot of things, but he won’t get my name.

I shake off the swirling emotions brewing inside of me and force myself into my morning routine. Clothes. Coffee. Hair. In that order, then out the door.

By the time I unlock the shop’s front door and the bell jingles overhead, I’ve convinced myself to let whatever this thing is go. Until I glance down at my phone.

One new message.

I see his name in the notification preview, my fingers twitch to tap at the screen but I don’t open it. Instead, I slip my phone into my back pocket and focus on getting through the day.

Customers filter in and out.

Orders are placed.

I chat with regulars, offer suggestions to the unsure, smile in all the right places and completely ignore the growing sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

Emily arrives after school, rolling her eyes at the stack of inventory that needs sorting. “Seriously?” she groans. “Did they just send everything all at once?”

“You know how it is,” I say, handing her the digital tablet with the spreadsheet already pulled up. “Either nothing comes in, or it all shows up at once.”

She mutters something under her breath about capitalism, but she starts sorting through the stock anyway, earbuds tucked in and music blaring.

The day passes.

Slowly.

By the time I lock up, exhaustion presses heavy on my shoulders, but I’ve forgotten to keep my guard up and find myself reaching for my phone the second I’m alone and sitting behind the steering wheel of my car in the parking lot.

The guilt hits me square in the chest.

I’m sorry if I was out of line.

I just want to get to know you.

I hope everything’s okay.

My head falls backward, resting against the driver’s seat headrest.

I ghosted him.

I straight-up ignored him all day like a total asshole.

Sighing, I tap out a reply.

Sorry.

My lip curls at my own response, knowing full well it sounds shallow. I don’t want shallow but how can this be anything more? He’s a nice guy, but he’s him and I’m me. She’d spent years on the outside of his world looking in. A few texts and late-night calls didn’t change the geography. Like before, his response is almost immediate.

Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed the subject. I’m sorry about that.

Is everything okay?

He really is a nice guy.

Yeah. I just got really busy at work.

Was it a good day?

It was… okay.

Just okay?

I was kind of distracted all day…

The second I hit send, I regret it.

Why did I tell him that?

I’m expecting him to jump on it, to tease or push, but instead, his reply is slower this time, like he’s weighing his words.

By what?

I could say it was nothing and just move past it, but my fingers are already typing before my brain can shut them down.

By you.

My pulse kicks up the moment I tap the send button.

There’s a longer pause now, the dots appearing, then vanishing, then coming back.

Is that bad?

I was thinking about you all day.

Before I can respond, another message comes through.

I was hoping you felt the same.

The butterflies take flight right in the pit of my stomach. I can feel their little wings fluttering all the way up my chest. I hate it, but I also can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

You were?

Yeah.

Not in a creepy way.

I promise I’m not a stalker or anything like that.

The texts come in too fast for me to even reply before the next one pops up. He seems just as uncertain with this as I am, which is… kind of adorable. I bite my lip as my fingers hover over the keyboard display. Screw it.

I didn’t think you were. I have to drive home, so if I’m quiet for a bit that’s why.

Tossing my phone on the passenger seat, I let out a slow breath before starting the engine. The parking lot is completely empty now, the streetlights casting long shadows across the asphalt. The quiet should be soothing, but my mind won’t settle. I shouldn’t be this worked up over a few texts. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension as I pull onto the road.

The drive home is familiar. Go left at the intersection, past the Oak Valley Cafe that always smells like burnt coffee, down the stretch of road lined with houses where people are already settling in for the night. Windows glow with soft light, glimpses of lives unfolding behind half-drawn curtains. It’s the same scene, every single night. By the time I pull into my driveway, the exhaustion from the day settles deep in my bones.

I grab my bag, my phone, and the lingering nerves that won’t seem to let go, then head inside.

The house is quiet, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the ticking of the aesthetic analog clock on my kitchen wall. I drop my keys on the counter, toe off my shoes and head straight for my bedroom. Routine takes over, like muscle memory. My hair is immediately wrangled and pulled up into a messy bun, face washed, pajamas on. By the time I slide under the covers, the weight in my chest hasn’t fully lifted but it’s starting to.

I grab my phone from the nightstand, hesitating only for a second before unlocking it.

Drive safe, SweetMuffin

Did you make it home, safe?

I did. Just settling in.

What are you up to?

A picture pops into the screen when he responds. A softly lit image of his face and shoulders. Kellen is clearly lounging in bed, hair messy, a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

I didn’t know you wore glasses.

Not many people do.

My management team didn’t think they fit my image. They said they hurt the appeal.

You fired that team the other night, right?

Working on it. Contracts and details to sort out. Why?

Because they were wrong.

I finish the text with a barrage of heart-eye emojis and hit send before I can think too hard about it. It’s an impulse reply, but this time, I don’t regret it. The words feel easy, natural.

The dots appear.

Then freeze.

Then he goes offline.

I scowl at the screen as my stomach flips like an asshole gymnast. Groaning, I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in my arms. “What’s wrong with me?” I ask myself.

Before I can spiral too hard, my phone dings again.

Are you flirting with me, SweetMuffin?

I frown at the message.

A few seconds later, another one pops up.

I hope the answer is yes…

There’s a kissy face emoji at the end of his message.

I read it again.

And again.

My lips press together, torn between amusement and panic. He’s teasing, obviously, but there’s something else underneath.

Something real.

I swallow the nerves building into a lump in the back of my throat.

You don’t even know what I look like.

Ah, there’s she is. Self sabotage. I know her well.

Don’t need to.

Just like I don’t need to know your name to flirt with your personality, remember?

Can I call you?

Why?

I’d like to know what you sound like, especially when you send me flirty little things like that.

I hesitate.

A phone call?

That feels different.

Texting is easy. It’s words on a screen, safe, detached. A phone call makes it real.

I promise I won’t ask what you’re wearing.

I laugh before I can stop myself.

Okay.

The moment I hit send, my phone vibrates.

Gulp.

My fingers tremble as I tap to answer.

“Hello.” My voice wobbles. I need to calm down. It’s just a call. I talk to people all the time. Literally, all day at the bakery. This is no differ—

“Hey there.” His voice is different than I remember it being in the interviews I’ve seen. It’s low and husky and does very distinct things to my body, but it’s also gentle and more welcoming than I’d imagined. “How was your day?” he asks, so casually. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing to ask, which it is but there is nothing normal about this conversation. “Other than being distracted, of course,” he adds with a low chuckle that makes heat rise up through my face.

“It was… fine. Busy,” I admit, struggling to force the words out through the nerves. “How was yours?” I lean back against my bed’s headrest, trying and failing to relax.

“Annoying.” He pauses and his sigh is loud through the speaker. “Dodging a lot of calls I’m just not ready to take. I really messed up.”

I bite at the inside of my cheek as I listen to his words. “I don’t think being true to yourself is messing up, Kellen.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t think so, normally. This time, it’s different.” He pauses and then his tone shifts. “But I’m with my baby brother and he never lets me wallow in self-pity for long.”

I swallow hard. “You’re with your brother?”

“Yeah. I was staying in a hotel, but he dragged me out of there and insisted I stay with him while I’m in town. You might’ve heard of him. He was a fighter too, until he decided to get out of the machine and open up his own gym.”

I glance around my dimly lit room like Kody’s going to materialize in the corner to chastise me for not being completely honest. “Yeah,” I murmur noncommittally. “I’ve heard of him.” I don’t mention that I’d been in the same room as his ‘baby brother’ just a few nights ago.

Kellen chuckles. “Don’t tell me you have a crush on my brother?”

“No,” I say immediately, wrinkling my nose.

He laughs louder. “I think you might be the only woman on the planet who doesn’t.”

“Maybe.”

“But I’m glad you don’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it would make things really awkward if you did.”

“Awkward? How?”

“Because.” He draws out the word. “He’s just walked into my room, trying to listen in, and I wouldn’t want his head to get any bigger.”

There’s a distant protest on the other end, followed by Kellen’s laughter.

“Shall I let you boys—”

“No,” Kellen interrupts. “I kicked him out. So, I’m all yours, SweetMuffin.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
Kellen

“Where are we going?” I ask as I trudge after my baby brother, rubbing a hand down my face. I barely got any sleep last night, but I don’t regret it. Talking to her is easy. The kind of easy I didn’t know I’d been missing. It’s not a physical connection. Not yet at least, since I still don’t know what she looks like.

Or even her real name.

But if I feel like this about her after only hearing her voice, I can only imagine what it might be like if we ever came face to face. She’s funny, sharp, and completely unfiltered. She challenges me, calls me out when I’m being dumb and doesn’t care about my name or the fights I’ve won. She talks to me like I’m just a regular guy, not someone whose face has been plastered on posters and television screens for the last ten years.

And yet, for some reason, I’m following my brother to a bakery instead of sleeping.

“Kody, I’m gonna ask you one more time before I drag your ass to the sparring mat. Why did you drag me out…” I stop mid-sentence as Kody comes to a halt in front of a storefront painted in soft pink. A sign above the door reads The Sweet Spot. Through the glass, warm golden light spills onto the sidewalk and the scent of fresh pastries lingers in the air.

“To show you some of the best things to arrive in this town since you left.” Kody announces, grinning like he just stole my test answers. He tugs on the door handle, but I don’t move from my position on the sidewalk, so the door doesn’t open very far.

He notices. “What’s your problem?”

“You and the fact that you don’t eat sugar unless it’s the holidays,” I say, still hesitating. “Why are we really here?”

His grin widens.

Great.

“Who is she?”

“Who?”

“The girl you’re obviously here to hit on.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t not hit on her. But no, man, people at the gym keep telling me I need to try her stuff. She trains with us sometimes, and they’re always talking about her shop so I thought I should stop in and be supportive. You know, networking. Business. Supporting the clients.”

“Uh huh.”

He pauses, then smirks. “Speaking of unreal, you still texting your mystery girl?”

I exhale sharply and shove him back, so I can step through the doorway first. “Shut up.”

He laughs, slugs me in the shoulder and grabs the door handle before it can slam shut behind me.

A chime jingles overhead announcing our arrival. The moment I step inside, warmth envelops me, carrying the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and something rich and buttery. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to linger, to sink into the cozy atmosphere and forget the outside world exists. Soft indie music hums in the background, weaving through the low murmur of conversation at the rustic wooden tables. East Divide, because apparently one guy moving back to town means we all have to pretend we’ve been fans since day one.

But all of that fades into the background the second I see her.

The woman behind the counter, crouched low as she loads a fresh tray of pastries into the glass display. I barely glance at the treats. My attention snags on the subtle arch of her back, the way she moves with an easy rhythm, completely at home in her space. The pale pink T-shirt stretches across her shoulders as she shifts, revealing the toned definition of someone who’s no stranger to movement. “You said she trains with you?” I ask, keeping my voice even, though my pulse kicks up a notch.

“Yeah. Well, she took one of my classes once, but she’s been coming to the gym for a while,” Kody says, shifting beside me. “Cute, isn’t she?”

I make a noncommittal noise, but cute isn’t the word I’d use.

She straightens, reaching back to tighten her ponytail, and the soft lighting catches in the strands of her hair. Her fingers work fast, securing the elastic before she rubs her hands absently down the front of her jeans. I finally get a glimpse of her face.

Holy…

She’s gorgeous.

Not in a curated for social media way, but in a way that makes something in my chest tighten. Bright eyes full of expression. Skin with just the right amount of sun-kissed warmth. Lips that tilt into a natural smirk, like she’s on the verge of saying something teasing then she smiles and it sends a rush of heat straight through my veins.

“Are you and her…?” I ask, still watching her.

Kody chuckles. “Not yet. But we’ll see.”

That irritates me more than it should, making me feel the urge to punch him in his stupid face. I shake it off, dragging my gaze away before she catches me staring. There’s something about the girl moving around behind the counter that keeps pulling my attention. Watching my brother get a coffee order isn’t usually this enthralling, but I can’t look away even as I slide into a seat at a nearby table.

“So, you said last night you wanted to talk about the gym?” he asks, returning with two cups of black coffee.

“Yeah…” I pull my gaze away from the woman behind the counter and refocus on my brother and the idea that came to me after talking to SweetMuffin.

He lifts an eyebrow until it nearly touches his hairline and drags a sip of hot coffee from his cup. “Talk.”

“I don’t want to run classes for money or anything. I just want to help.”

Kody leans back in his chair, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “You mean like pushing a mop around the floor?” he asks with a smirk as he slides the second coffee mug across the table to me.

“Not exactly,” I growl into my coffee as I pull it to my mouth.

“Personal training?” he asks. “Helping the ones who want to go pro?”

I shake my head. “No, not just them. I want to run classes for kids, the ones who can’t afford lessons but need to learn how to stand up for themselves.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “Like self-defense?”

“Yeah, but more than that. Confidence. Discipline. Control. The kind of stuff we learned the hard way.” I exhale, rolling my shoulders back.

Kody lets out a short laugh. “No kidding. You nearly broke Mike Green’s arm in high school for shoving me into a locker.”

I feel my lips curl into a scowl. “Mike Green was an asshole.”

He grins, but it fades quickly. “So, free classes? You’re really serious about this?”

“Yeah,” I say through another sip of my coffee. “I don’t need the money, and it’s something that actually matters to me.”

He studies me for a second, then nods. “I like it. And I think the town will too.”

I hadn’t expected Kody to push back too hard, but still…

It’s good to hear positive feedback on my idea.

“I hoped you’d be on board,” I say, leaning back into my seat.

Kody chuckles. “Well, yeah. You being back in the gym? That’s huge. People will lose their minds when they see you training here.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“I know that’s not the point, but it’s still a big deal. And if we’re being honest?” He gestures around the quiet café. “This town could use a little excitement. And some new business.” His eyes flick toward the counter, toward Millie, who’s still busy wiping down an already spotless surface.

“Hey.” Kody snaps his fingers in front of my face, dragging me back to reality. “Photo for my Instagram?”

I frown and shake my head. “No, thanks.”

“Come on.” His gaze flicks toward Millie behind the counter. She’s shifted to staying busy wiping down the glass display, though I’m pretty sure it’s already spotless too. “It’ll help her business,” he adds. “Don’t be a dick.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

Before I can just hover behind him for a quick shot, Kody takes it a step further. “Hey, Millie! Come take a picture with us.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes widening slightly before she schools her expression. “Uh, what?”

“With Kellen,” he clarifies, shooting me a smirk. “He’s all broody about it, but this will help spread the word about your muffins. And hey, you two are the best fighters at the gym.”

I barely keep from rolling my eyes. He’s laying it on thick, but he usually does.

She hesitates before stepping out from behind the counter, brushing her hands against her apron. She stops beside me. “Hi,” she says, extending one hand. “I’m Millie.”

“Kellen,” I say, taking her hand in mine. I have to force myself not to visibly react to the feeling of her soft smooth skin brushing against mine. Get a grip, Kellen, I tell myself.

Kody grins as he holds up his phone. “All right, smile.”

I keep my neutral expression, but Millie shifts slightly, tilting toward me just enough to fit into the frame coming close enough that I catch the faint scent of vanilla and sugar. At the last second, Kody nudges me, hard enough to knock me slightly off balance. My arm brushes against hers, and she lets out a surprised laugh.

“There! That’s the one.” Kody cackles, already typing away. “This is totally getting boosted.”

Millie shakes her head, taking a small step back. “Glad I could help.” Her tone is light, teasing, but I catch the way she avoids looking directly at me.

“Want me to tag you?” Kody asks, still grinning as he glances up at me.

I shake my head again, but I already know he will anyway. Not that it really matters. Maybe it’ll even help my reputation. The prodigal son of the fighting community back in his hometown, supporting local businesses. That kind of story wouldn’t hurt. “I’m heading out. Got a few calls to make.” I don’t bother sitting back down.

Kody falls back into his chair, smirking and I already feel sorry for poor Millie and the afternoon she’s going to have with my brother taking up residence in her dining room. “Oh, I bet there’s one call you want to make. To the same mystery woman, you were talking to all last night?”

His belly laugh fills the café, loud and full of smug satisfaction. “You have it bad, big brother.”

I flip him off before turning back to the woman behind the counter. “It was nice meeting you, Millie.”

She glances up as a rose color flickers across her face, but it fades as she smiles politely.

Pushing the door open, I step outside and head down the street, pulling out my phone. Technically, I’m staying at Kody’s place, but it doesn’t feel like home. Not the way last night’s late-night conversation with SweetMuffin did. The coffee was good. Millie was gorgeous. But my thoughts are only on one person.

I dial her number, holding the phone to my ear as it rings.

And rings.

Until finally, her voicemail kicks in.

“Hey, you.” A slow smile tugs at my lips as I walk, ignoring the stares of people passing by. No locals are going to bother me here. They’ve known me since I was a kid, but that doesn’t mean they won’t sneak a picture if they get the chance. “I was hoping to talk, but I guess you’re busy. I have so much to tell you. Can we talk later? Or…” I take a slow, deep breath then letting it out in a long exhale. I’m actually nervous. That’s new. I don’t get nervous asking women out. “My brother just introduced me to this great little bakery and since you obviously enjoy muffins… uh… anyway, maybe you’d want to check it out with me some time?”

CHAPTER EIGHT
Millie

He wants to meet me.

That’s what the voicemail said.

He wants to go out. For coffee, but still…

I stare at my phone, the screen still lit from his latest call. That sounds suspiciously like a date. Coffee could be played down, but the way he said it? That’s something else entirely. Not that it matters. I can’t meet him. Not after today. He didn’t even recognize me. That could make it easier. Or more difficult…

I shove my phone under a bag of powdered sugar, but of course, it buzzes again. A sharp little reminder that I’ve been dodging him all day. With a sigh, I wipe my flour-covered hands on my apron and grab the phone, pressing it between my ear and shoulder. “Hello?”

“Hey, you.” Kellen’s voice is warm, familiar. It sends a shiver down my spine, but I push it away.

I shouldn’t have picked up. “Hey,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“I was starting to think you changed your number,” he teases lightly. There’s no accusation, just an easy playfulness that makes my stomach twist.

“Another busy day at work,” I murmur, shifting the phone against my shoulder as I wipe my hands on my apron.

“Are you still busy?”

“Yeah,” I say automatically. Too fast.

There’s a pause, then a quiet chuckle. “All right, I’ll make this quick.”

I don’t like the feeling creeping up my spine.

“So about my message,” he says. “Did you get it?”

“I did,” I admit.

“Okay,” he says, his voice softer on the other side. “You don’t have to say yes, but the offer’s on the table.”

I hesitate. The way he says it, so casual, so not pushy. That makes the guilt worse somehow. It also makes me want to say yes more than I already did. But I can’t. “I…” I stammer, finally.

“It’s okay.”

“Huh?”

“We agreed to keep it casual. At least, for now,” he adds with the hint of a smile returning to his voice.

“I just need some time to adjust to… whatever this is.”

He’s quiet for a second. “That’s fair.”

I blink. “It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, I won’t lie. I was expecting… and hoping for a different answer,” he says with a crack in his voice that makes my resolve weaken. “But if you’re not comfortable, I get it.”

Something in my chest tugs painfully. “It’s not that, I…” I stop myself, shaking my head.

I hear him shift, like he’s just as uncomfortable in this conversation as I am and that feels strange because talking to him has been one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. Why doesn’t it feel that way now?

“I like talking to you,” he says simply. “That doesn’t have to change.”

It’s such a small thing, but the kindness in it almost undoes me. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I like talking to you too.”

“Good.” His voice is lighter now, like he’s relieved. “No pressure, alright? Just promise me you won’t disappear completely.”

I exhale. “I promise.”

“Alright then.” There’s a smile in his voice again, and something in me eases. “And I won’t push meeting anymore. I’ll wait, until you bring it up.”

This should feel like an escape, like he let me off the hook. But instead, all I feel is…sad. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to accept his offer in this moment.

But I can’t.

“I should let you get back to work,” he says. “Message me later?”

My heart clenches. “Yeah. I will.” No, I probably won’t.

“Good.” He hesitates, then softer, “Take care, SweetMuffin.”

When the line goes dead, I stare at my phone, my throat tight.

I knew this couldn’t go anywhere, so why does it hurt this much?

***

I’m home and safe.

Going to have an early night! GN

I stare at the message a second too long before pressing send. The X is a mistake. I should be pulling back, not giving him reasons to keep flirting but I can’t force myself to delete it.

My phone buzzes almost instantly.

Then get into bed and talk to me.

I exhale, shaking my head. I should ignore him. I told him I wouldn’t be

around to talk tonight. Instead, my fingers hover over the keyboard.

Stop flirting, Mr. O’Brien.

His reply comes with a winking emoji. Playful. Easy. Comfortable.

I let out a small laugh despite myself and toss my phone onto the bed. Stripping off my flour-covered clothes, I dig for a clean oversized T-shirt. My phone buzzes again just as I pull it over my head.

He’s calling.

I shouldn’t answer.

I do anyway.

“Kellen.”

“Hey, Muffin.” His voice is smooth, warm. Seductive, without even trying. “You sound out of breath. What are you doing?”

I hesitate. I could lie, but for some reason, I don’t. “I was just changing.”

He groans. Low and quiet, but enough to send a flood of heat to my cheeks.

“You’re…?”

“What? No!”

“You are. Oh my god, you’re blushing.” I can hear his grin. “I wish I could see that.”

I roll my eyes, dropping onto the bed. “I’m not blushing.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not.”

He makes a sound like he doesn’t believe me. “That’s a shame. Bet you’re even more beautiful when you do.”

My stomach does something stupid and fluttery. I should not be entertaining this. “We can’t meet, Kellen.” The words come out softer than I mean them to.

He doesn’t react right away. No frustrated sigh, no pushback. Just silence for a second too long.

Then, finally, “Okay.”

That’s it.

No protest, no challenge.

Just okay.

I wait for him to follow up with something else, some way to change my mind. But he doesn’t.

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop talking to you, though,” he adds, voice easy, unrushed. “And maybe one day, you’ll want to meet me as much as I want to meet you.”

A lump forms in my throat. I hate how much I want him to know who I am and that I do want to go out on that coffee date with him. That’s exactly the problem though. He thinks we’d be meeting for the first time. What would he think when he realizes we’ve known each other basically forever and I haven’t told him who I am yet? “You said you had something to tell me,” I say quickly to change the subject.

“I do,” he says, his tone lighter. “But you first. Tell me about your day.”

I hesitate. He’s giving me an out. I could say I’m tired and let this be the moment I start pulling away like I’ve already tried to do more than once. Instead, I exhale, settle into my pillow, and let myself enjoy the easy conversation.

CHAPTER NINE
Kellen

I have it bad. No denying it. And I’m not even going to try. Two weeks and six days. That’s how long I’ve been talking to SweetMuffin every night, texting every day. And yeah, I have it bad.

I’ve fallen for a woman without knowing her name, without knowing what she looks like. And strangely, I’m okay with that.

She’s my Muffin now, whether she knows it or not. One day, she’ll tell me her name. Just like I know one day, she’ll agree to meet me. It’s only a matter of time.

Until then, I’m good with this. Talking to her. Getting to know her.

Except, she knows everything about me, and I know next to nothing about her. She’s so secretive.

“She didn’t show up.”

Kody’s voice barely registers at first. I glance up from the computer, blinking as I refocus.

He looks like he’s just finished training. His hair is messy and a giant sweat stain spreads through the fabric of his shirt, right between his shoulder blades

“Who didn’t show up?”

“Millie.”

I raise an eyebrow. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who’s Millie?”

“The girl from…” He sighs and rolls his eyes, like I should already know. “The bakery.”

I frown. Something shifts in my brain, but I don’t chase it. “Oh, yeah. Is she still saying no?” I smirk, because if there’s anything I can count on, it’s Kody being a glutton for rejection.

“Yep.” He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t laugh in my face, but I swear she wants to. I think she’s taken already and just doesn’t want to tell me that.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t like you.” I grin, but that flicker of something in the back of my mind sharpens.

He swats at me. “What’s not to like? I mean, I can’t keep ordering muffins just to see her. I’m starting to get a belly.” He pats his stomach like that’s even remotely true. “I was hoping she’d be here tonight. It’s Thursday. She usually trains on Thursdays. She’s missed the last few.”

My stomach tightens.

She usually trains on Thursdays.

I stare at the sleep screen of the computer, my mind suddenly moving too fast.

“What did you say her name was?”

Kody gives me a look. “Millie.” He drags the name out like I’m slow. “I know you’ve been hit in the head too many times, Kellen, but I literally just told you.”

Millie.

Kody keeps talking, oblivious. “She’s about this tall.” He holds his hand just below his shoulder. “Hair in a long, bouncy ponytail. Hold on.” He leans over, turning on his laptop. His fingers fly over the keyboard. “I’ll show you. Maybe you’ll remember her face.”

But I don’t care about her face.

I care about something else.

“Her name is Millie,” I murmur, my voice strangely flat. “What’s the name of her shop, again?”

“The Sweet Spot,” he says, spinning the screen around as it lights up with a photo. It’s Kody and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. The same woman I met the day he hauled my ass into that little café. He’s grinning in front of two half-eaten muffins. Behind them, in soft, looping script, is a neon light that says, Sweet Muffins.

The Sweet Spot

Sweet Muffins.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as my pulse kicks up sending blood rushing through my veins. The sound wooshing through my skull so loud I can’t hear Kody yapping anymore.

No way.

It’s a coincidence.

It has to be.

But I reach over and tap at the tag in his post anyway.

Her page loads in front of me. Pictures of cakes, flowers, and baby animals. Holy shit. So many of these I’ve seen before from her posts.

And then there are pictures of her.

My lungs feel tight.

She’s smiling in one, standing in front of the bakery. The sign behind her, pink and unmistakable. Sweet Muffin.

She knew.

The second I walked into her shop, she knew.

My stomach drops as the conversation from that night comes rushing back.

She tried to end it.

She was trying to pull away.

And I—I didn’t let her.

She wasn’t playing games. She wasn’t coy. She was protecting herself.

Then, like a photograph developing in slow motion, something else clicks in my memory. A classroom. Pencils scratching on paper. A girl two rows behind me, quiet and steady, who I’d turned to borrow a pen from once and thanked. She was beautiful and I had wanted to ask her out but every time I saw her after that she turned and went the other direction. I assumed she was just very uninterested.

Millie.

She’d been right here, in this town, the whole time. And I’d looked right through her.

My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, too fast.

“What’s going on?” Kody watches me carefully. He knows something’s up.

I can’t tell him. Not yet.

Pulling out my phone, I fire off a message.

Hey Muffin, can you talk? Are you at work?

The answer comes almost instantly.

Yes. I’ll call when I get home.

I stare at the message.

She doesn’t know I know.

Slowly, my lips curve.

Then I lift my eyes to Kody.

“How much do you like Millie?”

His frown deepens. “Why?”

“How much?” I press. If this is just some casual interest, I need to know. Because if Millie is who I think she is, I can’t sit back.

“What’s going on with you?” Kody leans back, watching me like he’s trying to read my mind.

“Just answer the question.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “Not enough to keep wasting my time. She’s clearly not into me. Why?”

I grin, grabbing my rental’s keys and heading for the door.

“But I’m telling you now,” Kody calls after me, “she has someone. It’s the only explanation.”

I shake my head.

Of course my brother would assume that’s the only reason a woman would turn down his advances.

Maybe she does have someone.

I’m just hoping that someone is me.

***

The door to the bakery is closed and locked. Frowning, I peer through the glass. The space inside is brightly lit, but there are no customers. All the small round tables are wiped clean.

Didn’t she say she was at work?

I assumed that meant the bakery would be open, something it clearly isn’t.

Not surprising, really. It’s late.

Then she appears with an apron wrapped around denim shorts and a knotted t-shirt, her hair piled on top of her head instead of in her usual long, bouncy ponytail. She looks flushed.

Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckles against the glass.

Her head snaps up, her expression freezing as soon as she sees me.

Then, just for a second, something flickers across her face.

Relief?

Shock?

Guilt?

She glances toward the back door, like she’s debating running.

I lift my hand and give her a small, admittedly awkward, wave.

Wide-eyed, she hesitates before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and moving toward the door. She cracks it open just enough to

speak. “Hi, we’re closed. Sorry.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in my voice isn’t an act. “I was just hoping we could talk.”

She doesn’t budge.

Or smile.

Millie just watches me, guarded and wary. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Then again, she doesn’t know that I know. So why would she throw herself into my arms? “If this is about your brother…” she folds her arms across her chest, tilting her chin up “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”

I chuckle. “It’s not about my brother.”

That gets a flicker of confusion across her face as she starts to chew on her bottom lip.

“I just had a real craving for one of your muffins,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling before continuing. “I can’t get those sweet muffins out of my head.”

The play on words has the desired effect.

A ruby red color rushes up her cheeks as her lips part slightly, like she’s formulating a come back. But the words never leave her lips.

“I know you’re closed and it’s a little cheeky to ask, but…”

She exhales sharply, opening the door a little wider. “There are a few left from today, but tomorrow’s batch won’t be ready for a while, so…”

“Today’s are fine.”

I slip past her before she can change her mind, careful not to touch her even though I want to.

I want to so much.

What happens if I do, and this is all just a massive coincidence? I don’t think it is. But there’s a small chance I’m wrong. “Am I okay to grab a coffee too?” I ask, watching her.

She cocks her head, her teeth scraping her bottom lip. “Don’t want much, do you? I’m supposed to be closed. I’d like to get home before midnight.”

Chuckling, I follow her to the counter. “Why are you even here so late?”

She shrugs, keeping her back to me. “Prepping for tomorrow. Sometimes that means working a little later. I’ve been a little distracted recently.”

Grinning, I let my eyes trail down her slender back. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Just been busy with… personal things.”

“It’s not safe for a girl like you to be working late on your own. Maybe I should stay and keep an eye on things for you. You could always pay me in muffins.” It’s a joke, but the way she whirls around, eyes flashing, tells me it hit wrong.

“I don’t need a man to watch my back.” Her voice is firm. “I can look after myself now.”

“Now?” I frown. “Did something happen?”

“It was nothing,” she says too quickly, avoiding my gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I hold both hands up in defense. “That’s not what I meant.”

Her face softens.

“Did someone hurt you?” I ask, again. “Here?”

“I was mugged.”

My whole body locks up. “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Millie.”

She exhales, rubbing her forehead. “Look, I’ll put your coffee in a to-go cup and grab some muffins from the kitchen for you.”

“No to-go cup.” I cross my arms. “Can’t I have them here?”

Her mouth opens, then shuts. She presses her lips together like she’s debating whether to argue. Then, finally, she lets out a long sigh, the fight leaving her shoulders. “Fine. But you can clean up your own table.” She points to the one nearest the counter. “This is the one and only time I’ll do this. You and your brother are giant pains in the ass.”

I laugh and nod, taking a seat. “We get that a lot.”

She disappears for a second, returning with a coffee mug. “Did you want anything in particular?” she asks.

“Yes.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “And should I guess, or…?”

“I think you should guess.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. It’s adorable.

“Surprise me with something sweet,” I murmur. “Ideally, a sweet muffin.” I make sure to glance behind her at the sign on the wall.

Her hand falters for just a second as she slides a plate toward me. She doesn’t look at me as she heads back to the counter.

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” I take a long sip. Black, two shots of espresso. “It’s perfect.”

She freezes.

My lips curl. We talked about how we prefer our coffee the other night because I overheard her pull through a coffee shop last weekend when her shop was closed and she was out running errands.

There’s no way she would remember that from when Kody ordered because he forgot the extra espresso.

“That’s right, Sweet Muffin,” I say softly.

She turns slowly. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Yeah, you do.” I push off my seat and close the space between us. She lets out a tiny gasp when she realizes how close I am. Reaching out, I trail my fingertips over her cheek. Soft. Warm. Her lips part slightly, her breath catching. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Sweet Muffin.” Sliding my hand to the back of her head, I gently pull her into me. “It’s nice to see you again, Millie.”

“You remember me?” she asks, breathlessly.

“I do,” I whisper, leaning in to let my words linger on the delicate skin just behind her ear.

And then, I kiss her.

CHAPTER TEN
Millie

He remembers? His words echo beneath the rush of his mouth on mine. Like we hadn’t sat in the same building for years. Like I hadn’t spent an embarrassing amount of time watching him from across hallways he breezed through without once glancing back. He has no idea. Of course he doesn’t. I’d never been anyone worth noticing.

Until, apparently, now.

Kellen O’Brien is kissing me.

His lips are the perfect mixture of hard and gentle, coaxing rather than demanding, exploring rather than taking. There’s a moment, a single fleeting second, where I could push him away, tell him I’m not who he thinks I am, and stop this before it spirals into something I can’t control. But that moment disappears, vanishing right along with my resolve to keep this man at arm’s length.

Hesitant, careful, he brushes his tongue against mine, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if I’ll pull away.

I should.

I should put an end to this before it gets worse. Before the feelings I’ve been suppressing—the heat coiling in my core—takes over completely. But instead of being sensible, I do the exact opposite. Rising onto my tiptoes, I bury my fingers into his thick, unruly hair, pulling him closer. His responding groan vibrates through my chest, sending sparks racing down my spine and then he’s leaning into me, deepening the kiss, exploring my mouth with his tongue and I don’t want him to ever stop.

My body molds against his, fitting together like we were made for this.

Maybe we were.

His hands slide down my back, gripping my waist before skimming lower, over the curve of my hips. The warmth of his skin mixed with the sensation of his callouses brushing against the bare skin just beneath the hem of my shirt makes my knees give out. He catches me and in one swift movement he’s lifting me onto the counter. The cool surface beneath my thighs is a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing between them.

Crash.

A tray of muffins topples to the floor, sending the last batch of the day scattering in every direction.

I freeze.

Kellen pulls back, immediately I miss the feeling of his lips on mine and I catch myself leaning forward instinctively following his movement.

He rests his forehead resting against mine. “So, it is you?” he asks as a slow, satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

It’s not a question.

I swallow, pressing my hands to his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath my palms. “I’m Millie,” I say, my voice shaky and breathless. “And we probably shouldn’t have done that.” I push against him, expecting him to move and let me down.

He doesn’t budge. It’s like trying to move a mountain. A mountain with the softest, most kissable lips I’ve ever felt. His grip on my hips tightens, his thumbs teasing just beneath the hem of my shirt. “Why not?”

My pulse pounds in my ears. “I…” I can’t think of a single valid reason why that shouldn’t have just happened other than, he’s him and I’m me and right now I just don’t care. “I don’t know.”

“Good.” His expression shifts, fading into something deeper. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

His lips brush mine again, just a whisper of a kiss.

I want to lean into it, to drown in the taste of him

But instead, I turn my face away. If he keeps kissing me, I won’t be able to think straight. “What was I supposed to say, Kellen?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I don’t know.” His fingers gently nudge my chin, bringing my gaze back to his. “Maybe something like Hey, I’m Millie. We used to go to school together.”

“You remember that?”

“Mhm,” he grunts, leaning closer and letting his breath tease me as he traces the outline of my jaw with his mouth.

“How do you…” the words die in my throat as he grips my ponytail and gently tugs, pulling my head back just enough to give him the access he wants. A wave of fresh electricity rushes through my bloodstream as he teases me, leaving soft kisses along my jawline.

Something causes him to stop.

“Don’t stop,” I moan, already reaching for him and tangling my fingers in the soft fabric of his t-shirt trying to pull him back to me.

“Wait,” he says, frowning slightly causing a crease to form between his brows. “My brother seems to think you have a man.”

I snort. “That’s because your brother thinks he’s God’s gift to women and can’t understand why anyone would turn him down.”

Kellen chuckles. “That he does.”

But then his laughter fades.

“You don’t, though, right?” His eyes darken, sharp and searching. “A boyfriend? A husband?” His eyebrow arches. “Girlfriend?”

I want to say yes. I want to say it’s him. But I don’t know what to say, so I stay silent.

A smirk tugs at his lips. “An online guy who’s crazy about you, maybe?” His smirk fades. “Damn.” Stepping back, he runs a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in disheveled spikes. “You don’t have someone, do you? That’s why you didn’t tell me. It makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, Kellen.” I let my hands drop. Touching him is dangerous. We’ve already kissed, and my body is still buzzing from it. I shake my head. “I talk to you every night. All night. And text you most of the day. When would I have time for a relationship on top of that?”

“Then why?” His voice dips lower. The weight of his gaze pins me in place.

“Because you’re you, and I’m me.”

He groans and reaches across the counter, fingers grazing my wrist in an attempt to pull me back. “That’s not a reason, Millie. Not a valid one.”

“Kellen.” I start to say something, but the words tangle in my throat.

His eyes spark with something that sends amber flecks dancing across his irises, making my insides flutter. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are I want you to kiss me again, I don’t want to hear it.” His grin is playful, but the heat in his gaze is anything but.

I laugh.

I didn’t mean to, but it poured out of me.

He joins in, his deep chuckle vibrating through my chest.

“What if I do?”

His eyes narrow. “Do what?” Squaring his shoulders, he moves around the counter, closing the distance between us once more. He’s everywhere, is presence swallowing the space around me. His fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me flush against him. “I need you to tell me, Millie.”

I can’t breathe.

He’s so close.

Too close.

“I want you to kiss me again,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

A flash of white appears against his tanned skin as he grins. “I’m glad you agree,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been dreaming of kissing these lips for weeks.”

He places a single, feather-light kiss against my mouth. Brief and teasing. When he pulls away, my mouth gapes open as I blink up at him. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing but instead of leaning back in, he takes a step away. “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

I frown. “What?”

“It’s not a trick question, Millie.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, looking completely at ease. “I’d like to take you to dinner. Where do you want to eat?”

“Dinner?”

“Yes.” He grins. “In a restaurant. That’s what people do on dates.”

“Date?” I echo, sounding like an idiot.

“Yeah, a date.”

I shake my head. “I’m not dressed for a date,” I scoff, waving my hand in front of me to take in my flour-covered apron and clothes. “It’s been a long day. I just want to go home and fall into bed.”

His eyes turn darker. “Sounds good to me.”

Honestly, it sounds like exactly what I need.

“I’ll grab us takeout and come back to pick you up,” he says as casually as ever. “We’ll eat in bed, and you can talk to me all night just like we usually do,” he adds, taking a step forward toward me.

My heart stutters.

“Only this time,” he adds, his voice dropping, “I won’t be on the other end of the phone. I’ll be lying next to you.”

“I…uh…,” I stammer.

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Millie. But I want to be with you tonight… And if you want to be with me tonight too, then I’d like that very much.”

I swallow hard, trying to force back my nerves and all the racing thoughts trying to drag up every insecurity I have. “Okay,” I finally manage to force out. “I still have about two hours of work left before I can leave.”

“I’ll go clean up, pick up the food and be back before then.” He leans in and kisses me softly on the top of my head. “Lock the door behind me and keep it that way until I get back.”

***

He’s there, waiting in the parking lot when I close-up the shop an hour later. Leaning against what I assume is his rental, arms crossed over his broad chest, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips. The streetlamp overhead casts a soft glow on him, making his dark hair appear almost bronze at the tips.

I stop in my tracks.

Part of me had assumed I wouldn’t see him again now that he knows who I am and that I’m just a normal girl running a normal business. I thought he’d decide it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it. But he’s here, standing not even four feet from me, with a smile that makes heat crawl through my veins as I remember the taste of his mouth on mine.

My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. “Hi.” My voice comes out smaller than I’d like, and I scuff the toe of my flat against the pavement, trying to ground myself. His smile deepens, lazy and self-assured. “Hi.”

He pushes off the tailgate of the truck, stepping toward me with that same quiet confidence he always has. “Let me take that for you.”

I expect him to lift the bag off my shoulder, but instead, his fingers close around mine, warm and rough, pulling me forward. The bag slides down my arm as he wraps himself around my waist, pressing me against him. My breath hitches, my pulse jumping into a sprint.

“I still can’t believe you are you.” His voice is hushed, filled with something I don’t recognize but it makes my stomach flip.

Then he kisses me, again.

Not rushed, not uncertain. It’s deliberate, like he’s cataloging every detail, committing the shape of my lips to memory. There’s no hesitation in the way his mouth moves against mine, no concern for the fact that we’re standing in the middle of the empty parking lot, out in the open, where anyone could see.

My fingers curl into the front of his shirt before I even think about it, gripping the fabric as if holding on to him might keep me from turning into a puddle of melted Millie right here in the parking lot. I don’t care that we’re outside. I don’t care that someone could walk by at any moment. I don’t care about anything except the way his body feels against mine.

But what happens now?

Breathless, I pull back. “Kellen?”

“Yeah?” His voice is low, a little raspy, and his lips are still hovering close, like he’s waiting for an excuse to kiss me again.

I swallow. “What are we doing?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Kissing.” To prove his point, he drops his lips to my jaw, brushing the words against my skin. A quiver runs down my spine. “I think that’s what the kids are calling it these days,” he murmurs, and I can feel his smile against my skin.

I swat at his shoulder, even though I don’t actually want him to stop. “You know what I mean.”

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Yeah, I know.” His expression turns serious, but not hesitant. He lifts a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long. “And my answer still stands. We’re kissing.”

My heart stutters.

“In a second,” he continues, “I’m going to open the door for you and drive you home. We’re going to eat together and you’re going to tell me anything and everything that you want to.” His thumb brushes the curve of my jaw, his gaze steady, unreadable. “Now that we don’t have to keep things surface level anymore, there’s no need for any secrets between us. I want to know everything about you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kellen

Millie’s place is small. Small and neat and exactly what I expected of her. Warm, cozy and filled with little touches that scream her. Soft pillows in muted pastels. A vanilla-scented candle flickering on the coffee table. A knitted throw draped over the arm of the couch like she’d just been curled up there last night.

She’s hovering near the sofa, wringing her hands like she’s not sure what to do with me now that I’m here. I could think of a few things to do.

I lift the brown paper bag holding our takeout and grin. “Where should I put this?”

She startles, like she forgot the food even existed. Then, stumbling forward, she takes it from me, her fingers brushing mine in the process. “I’ll go put it onto some plates,” she mumbles, voice barely above a whisper as she hurries toward a doorway. “Make yourself at home.”

I watch her disappear into what I assume is the kitchen, shaking my head. Oh, I’m planning on making myself at home, all right. But if she thinks that means I’m just going to sit on her overstuffed couch while she plays hostess, she’s got another thing coming.

Following behind her through the doorway, I find her standing at the counter, pulling plates down from the cabinet. The kitchen is just as small and cozy as the rest of the apartment, barely enough space for two people to move around comfortably. Which is fine with me. I prefer being close. Stepping behind her, close enough that I can smell the gentle scent of her shampoo and drop my chin onto her shoulder. “What do you want me to do?” My voice is low. “

She stiffens, just for a second. “No, it’s fine. I can—”

I turn her before she can finish, caging her in between my body and the cabinets, leaving her no choice but to tilt her head back to look up at me.

“Kellen.” My name leaves her lips in that soft, breathy way that does something—everything—to me.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Millie

Light filters in through the gaps between my curtains and the walls. It’s enough to wake me but I just lie there, tangled in my sheets, refusing to open my eyes while last night plays on a loop in my head.

Kellen.

His hands.

His mouth.

His words, You can’t get rid of me now. I’m here to stay.

I roll onto my side, expecting to find him still sleeping but the sheets have already cooled. So, he did leave. I swallow the disappointment that shouldn’t be there. A dull ache settles in my chest before I can stop it. I shouldn’t care. I knew what this was. No expectations, no strings. But still, something twists in my stomach, this stupid, aching disappointment I have no right to feel. What did I expect? Maybe for him to still be here when I woke up, sprawled out and smug, pulling me back under the covers for round…

What number were we even on?

Instead, I woke up to an empty bed.

I hate that it bothers me.

I shift, stretching out into the space he left behind, the cool morning air brushing over my bare skin. The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. I strain to hear something—anything—that tells me I didn’t just imagine last night.

Then, faintly, the rhythmic tapping of water hitting the shower walls filters through under the bathroom door.

A breath of relief rushes out of me as my head drops back against the pillow. God, get a grip, Millie. Pushing the sheets aside, I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as the water shuts off. A few seconds later, the bathroom door swings open, sending a puff of steam curling into the room.

And then he’s standing there, in the doorway.

Dripping wet.

Towel slung low on his hips.

My mouth runs dry, instantly.

Water beads along the ridges of his stomach, trailing the deep cut of his abs before disappearing beneath the towel. His damp hair sticks up in messy tufts with his skin flushed from the heat of the shower. He catches me staring and one corner of his mouth ticks up.

That half-cocked smile is devastating enough, let alone when he’s wearing it while looking like that. “Morning,” he says in a tone so deep my insides flip.

I force my eyes away, pretending to straighten my sheet. “I thought you left.”

The smirk vanishes. “Is that what you think of me?”

“No,” I shrug, fingers twisting in the fabric. “I just woke up and you weren’t there.” A nervous laugh slips out. “Plus, you do have a reputation. You know that.” I didn’t mean to say it, but it’s still true. I watched him carry that reputation through high school too, but back then I’d been sensible enough to stay well clear of it.

He doesn’t deny it. Just stands there, watching me, water still sliding down his arms, across his chest. “True,” he says finally, moving closer.

I exhale slowly, the warmth of last night clashing with the uncertainty creeping in now. “Should I expect this to be any different?”

The mattress dips as he moves closer and before I can react, his hands are on my waist, tugging me toward him. “Yeah,” he finally says. “You should.”

“Why?” I manage to stammer out somewhat coherently as I fight against the urge to meld myself entirely to his body.

“Because,” his grip tightens just enough to make my breath stutter, “it’s you.”

My pulse trips over itself. I want to argue, tell him that’s ridiculous. But the way he looks at me makes my throat tighten. I don’t know what to do with that. Before I can figure out what to say, his lips are on mine, warm and insistent, silencing the storm in my head.

Work drags. Every minute stretches unbearably long, and every hour feels like a full day. It isn’t even slow. I’m constantly on my feet, filling orders, wiping counters, making small talk with customers, but none of it makes the time pass faster. I keep glancing at the clock, counting down the seconds until I can see Kellen again.

It still doesn’t seem real.

And yet, here I am.

I shrug it off as the bell above the door jingles, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Hey, Millie.”

I glance up and smile as Kody strides in from the dark street, shaking a light drizzle off his jacket.

“Hey,” I give him a little wave. “What can I get you today?”

The door slams open again, rebounding off the wall with enough force to rattle the windows.

Kellen.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes bright, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. His energy hits me like a tidal wave before I even have time to react.

“Kel—” Before I can get his name out, he’s on me, sweeping me off the ground in one smooth motion. My breath leaves in a startled laugh as he spins me, strong arms locked tight around my waist. “You shouldn’t be back here!” I swat at his shoulders, but it’s useless.

He just holds me tighter. “I have the best news, Millie, and it’s all because of you.” His lips crash against mine, firm and hungry, stealing my breath before I can demand an explanation. “You,” he murmurs between kisses, “are literally… the best… thing…. that’s ever happened… to me.”

I squirm, glancing at Kody, who watches us with a smirk. “What are you doing?” I hiss out of the corner of my mouth.

Kellen follows my gaze, then waves a dismissive hand. “He knows, Millie. Don’t worry about that.”

I do worry, though.

Pushing at his chest, I wriggle free, landing back on solid ground. “I thought we agreed to keep things quiet.”

Kellen shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He’s family. Of course I told him. And anyway, he kind of knew I was coming here last ni—”

“Plus,” Kody interrupts, leaning against the counter, voice laced with amusement, “if he hadn’t told me, I would’ve kept asking you out. Now I know you’re off-limits, I’ll have to behave.”

Kellen and I turn to him at the same time, matching expressions of disbelief.

Kody just grins.

I shake my head, feeling my shoulders relax as I exhale in a laugh. “So, what’s this big news?”

The shop is empty, the glow of the streetlamps outside casting warm light against the windows. If someone walks in and sees us, does it really matter? I like him. And by the way he’s looking at me, his hands still lingering at my waist, I think he likes me too.

“We’re going to set up a school,” Kellen says, excitement crackling in his voice. “Well, classes, at first. For kids.”

I tilt my head, searching his face. “I thought you were already doing that?”

“I am, but this is gonna be bigger. Much bigger. We’re talking nationwide. I’ve been on the phone with Brock all day. He’s totally behind it.”

“Who’s Brock?”

Kody answers before Kellen can. “The guy in charge. Maybe not on paper, but he’s the one who’ll make or break this for Kellen.”

“And strangely,” Kellen chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, “he’s willing to make it happen. I thought he’d tell me to go to hell, but he knows he can’t afford to lose me from his books and if he wants to cut through the bad press from when I outed the thrown fight on my live…”

A slow smile spreads across my face. Kellen is so excited, his whole body practically vibrating with it. I can’t help but share in it. Reaching up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his soft, full lips. “I’m so happy for you, Kellen.”

He grins, arms tightening around me. “What should we do to celebrate?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the way his eyes darken sends heat rushing to my face. I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“Oh,” Kody drawls. “Guess I’m not invited to this particular celebration, huh?”

Kellen smirks, his hold on me tightening. “Yeah, you’re definitely not invited.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kellen

I tug Millie a little closer, brushing my lips against her temple before stepping back. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She glances at the clock on the wall. “Now? I still have—”

“Emily’s already here.” I nod toward the teenager behind the counter, who offers us an exaggerated thumbs-up. “She’s got things covered.”

Millie narrows her eyes at Emily. “Traitor.”

Emily just grins. “Please, like I’d ever be the one to stand between you and a hot date.”

Millie groans but her cheeks flush, and when I lace my fingers through hers, she doesn’t pull away. I lead her out into the cool night air, opening the passenger door of my car before jogging around to the other side. “Where are we going exactly?” she asks as I fall into the driver’s seat. She shifts in the passenger seat, twisting to glance out the window as houses blur past. The glow of streetlights catches in her hair, casting soft highlights through the strands. Her brows knit together, lips pressing into a thoughtful line.

“Dinner.”

“You missed my turn.” She sighs, turning back to me. “Or are we going out out? Because if we are, I need to change. I’m not dressed for a restaurant.”

Reaching across the center console, I take her hand in mine, lifting it to my lips. The back of her hand is warm, her skin soft against my mouth. “We’re going out out but trust me, you’re dressed just fine. It’s going to be great.”

At least, I hope she’ll think so.

The idea had seemed perfect when I found it online. Sweet and romantic, just like her. And now, sitting beside her, I feel something tighten in my chest. The kind of urgency I’ve never felt for anyone before.

It’s strange to me realizing just how much I want to make her happy.

One comment on a livestream and now she’s all I think about. Me, the fighter. The forever bachelor. And yet, here I am, planning dates, craving her smile like it’s my next breath. It’s unsettling, in the best possible way. Millie and I barely know each other. But the truth is, she knows me better than anyone. We might have only just met in person, but I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives.

“Kellen, can you please just tell me where we’re going? I really think I should probably chang—”

I squeeze her fingers, brushing another kiss to her knuckles before guiding the car through the turn out of town. “You look perfect the way you are, and no I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Liar. You literally told me the other day that you love them. Consider this one of many more to come.”

Her mouth quirks up, but she murmurs, “It’s not surprise number one.”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “No?”

“No. The DM was.” A pink flush dusts her cheeks. “You finding out who I was and coming to the bakery, that was surprise number two.”

Something in her tone makes my grip tighten on the wheel.

“A good surprise, I hope?”

“Yeah.” She hesitates.

My stomach dips. “That sounds like a but is coming.”

She exhales, rubbing a hand against her thigh. “No…”

I laugh. “You didn’t want me to find you?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. From the moment I put the pieces together, all I could think about was meeting her. Seeing her face, hearing her voice. The idea that she might have preferred to keep things online? It twists something inside me.

But no.

I know what I felt last night.

What we felt.

That wasn’t the reaction of someone who didn’t want to be found.

“But what?” I press.

She hesitates again, tracing an invisible line along the window. “I don’t know what’s happening here, Kellen.”

I frown, flicking a glance her way. “I’m taking you on a date. Thought that was pretty obvious.”

She lets out a soft groan, shaking her head. “But… it’s weird, right?” She says it so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “You’re you. I’m me. We live in different worlds.”

I blink. “So?”

She lets out a sharp breath.

I huff a laugh, my fingers flexing around the wheel. “Millie, you are exactly the kind of girl every guy should make an effort for. It doesn’t matter what I do for a living.”

She scoffs lightly, but I don’t let her argue.

“You wanna know why I messaged you first? Why I went against my own rules and tracked you down?” I don’t wait for her to answer. “Because I’ve never met anyone who calls me out the way you do. Talking to you felt like the most natural thing in the world.” A grin tugs at my lips as I pull off the highway onto a narrower road. “And let’s be honest, it didn’t hurt that you turned out to be drop-dead gorgeous.”

Millie exhales, sinking back into her seat with a small, breathy sigh. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

My grin widens.

“Well, babe.” I shoot her a wink. “You’re officially aboard the romance train, so get ready for a whole lot more.”

Her brow lifts, amused. “Romance train?”

I don’t answer, just take the final turn and ease the car into the lot.

Killing the engine, I watch her closely, waiting for the moment it clicks.

She sits forward, peering through the windshield.

Her breath catches.

“Is this…?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“But they don’t allow visitors. I tried to volunteer here once, but didn’t pass the application process because I didn’t have certifications. How did you…?”

Unclipping her seatbelt, I tug her toward me, finding her lips with mine. She tastes sweet, like frosting and sugar, like her. “I asked nicely,” I murmur against her mouth. “And when they said no, I made a pretty large donation.” I chuckle, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Welcome to Oscar’s Animal Sanctuary, Millie. Get ready for a cuteness overload.”

Her squeal is immediate. Throwing her arms around my neck, she practically bounces in my lap.

I nailed this.

“I can’t believe you did this!” she beams, then hesitates. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t seem like the type to coo over animals. I want to do something you’ll enjoy too.”

I smirk, letting my fingers drift down her back. “Oh, don’t worry about me.” I graze my lips along her jaw, just enough to make her shiver. “I love animals. And if nothing else, I’ll just enjoy watching you.”

She pulls back as her eyes search mine. “You are the sweetest man in the world, Kellen.”

I’m not.

But for her?

I want to be.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Millie

“Isn’t it the cutest?” Sitting cross-legged on the ground, I cradle the rabbit in my hands, its tiny body fitting fully inside my palms. It’s a fluffy little thing, the kind of adorable that takes over entire social media feeds. Soft, twitching nose. Oversized ears. A perfect little bundle of sweetness. I nuzzle my nose against it, inhaling the fresh, earthy scent. “I mean, seriously,” I coo, lifting it up to Kellen. “Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. His voice is lower now, rougher and I don’t miss the way it makes me feel. “I think you are.”

The rabbit wriggles in my hands and I gently set it back down, but my gaze stays locked on Kellen. The setting sun casts golden streaks over the sanctuary, turning everything soft at the edges, but he’s still watching me with the shadows deepening his expression.

“”I’m going on too much, aren’t I?” I swallow quickly. “My grandma always said I was shy, until I wasn’t and then I never shut up. Maybe she had a point,” I admit with a cringe.

Kellen doesn’t answer. He just reaches for my hand and pulls me up, sliding me against him like he can’t stand the space between us. His hands are warm, firm. I can feel the heat of him even through my sweater. “I like you just exactly as you are.”

His voice is hushed and I melt like stupid putty in his arms. Lifting my chin, I brush my lips against his, a whisper-soft kiss that he barely lets linger before he steps back. “You hungry?” he asks, voice husky. “Or do you wanna—” He’s about to ask if I want to walk around again but as much as I love this place, there are other things I want more. I am hungry. For food and for something else entirely.

I lower my voice, hoping the volunteers don’t hear. “I’m definitely hungry.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, but he doesn’t laugh. He just dips his head, his breath is warm as it brushes against my ear. “Is that right?”

My pulse quickens as my heart trips all over itself. “That’s right.” I tip my chin up, meeting his gaze with quiet intent. “Take me home and feed me,” I glance down at the growing bulge behind his pants zipper and suck my lip between my teeth as I glance back at up at him. My face floods with heat. I’m not usually this forward, but something about being around him makes me feel… bolder.

Kellen throws his head back and laughs, the kind that shakes his entire frame but his grip on me doesn’t loosen. His eyes darken as he places a hand on my back, guiding me toward the exit. “Here I was, thinking you were all sweet and innocent, and then you go and say something like that.”

“You thought I was sweet and innocent after last night?” I roll my eyes, reaching into my pocket as my phone starts ringing. The vibration rattles against my palm, the number glowing up at me like a bad omen. The blood drains from my face. I don’t even think about it. I just hit end and shove it back into my pocket.

Kellen stops short. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” I cringe as the words fall out too quickly.

He doesn’t buy it. “Who was that?”

“No one.”

His brows furrow. “Looked like a no one named Rob.”

Damn his height. He saw the caller ID as clearly as I had. I exhale sharply. “Rob Mathers.” I mumble.

His entire posture stiffens. “As in Mathers Mechanics in Crossroads?”

I nod.

“Is there something wrong with your car?”

“No, he… uh…” My throat tightens.

Kellen’s expression shifts. His jaw clenches. His eyes darken, his easygoing demeanor vanishing like it was never there.

“Are you seeing him?” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s nothing calm about it. He rakes his hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “Millie? I thought you said you weren’t seeing anyone.”

I cross my arms. I do not like his tone. I like Kellen, I really do, but that doesn’t give him the right to act like a jealous asshole.

“No, I am not,” I snap. “For your information, I’m not seeing anyone. Rob asked me out before I even started talking to you.” I jab a finger at his rock-solid chest. “I told him no then and it’s still a no.”

His shoulders loosen, his expression easing just slightly. “So you’re not seeing him? Or anyone else?”

I huff. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

His grip tightens around my waist again, and he lets out a sigh against the top of my head as he pulls me closer to his chest. “Good. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about a girl like you stepping out on me.”

I freeze. “A girl like me?” My stomach turns and I can feel all the color draining from my face the way it feels when you’re on a roller coaster and the rush of the drop is gone and now it’s just you and motion sickness left. His words landed in the exact part of me that I try to keep buried but it keeps surfacing, old and bruised. A girl like me. I’d been a girl like me all through high school—the kind who exists in the same zip code as Kellen O’Brien but never in the same orbit. I’d known that then. But over the last few weeks, I’d felt myself forgetting it. Apparently the universe thought I needed a reminder.

“Millie?”

I force a smile, but inside I’m screaming. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he argues, his grip on my wrist gentle, careful. “Shit. No. No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you meant.” I say. “And the worst part? You’re right. I am a girl like me, and I have no business being around a guy like you.” The difference between us is glaring. It always has been and now I know without a doubt that he sees it too.

“That’s not what I meant, Millie.”

“Take me home,” I say again, but with an entirely different meaning this time.

***

“Thank you for a lovely evening.”

My hand is already on the door before Kellen even cuts the engine with my fingers tightening around the handle, ready to escape, but before I can push it open, his hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” His voice is low, careful. “Millie?”

I stare at him in disbelief. He can’t be serious. We haven’t spoken since we left the sanctuary, silence stretching between us like barbed wire and now he’s acting like nothing happened? “It’s nothing.” I force out the words, staring straight ahead. “I’m just… I want to be alone, right now.” It isn’t a complete lie, so I don’t feel bad saying it. Leaning over, I press a quick kiss to his cheek. A kiss meant to be a goodbye, whether he realizes it or not. “Thanks for a lovely time.”

Before I can pull away, he catches my face between his hands, his thumbs brushing along my jaw. He tilts his head, angling for a real kiss.

I turn away.

Kellen stills. His hands slip from my face, dropping into his lap as his brows draw together. “This is because of the girl like you comment, isn’t it?” His voice is quiet at first, but then he lets out a frustrated groan. “Jesus, Millie. That’s not what I meant.”

My jaw clenches. “I know, but it’s true.”

It is not fine. Not even close. But it’s the only thing I can say without my voice shaking.

His gaze sharpens. “Come on. You know that’s not what I meant.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes me. “Oh, I understood you perfectly. And you’re right. A man like you shouldn’t have to worry about a girl like me dating other people.” The words hit me like a slap. Heat rushes up my spine, anger and humiliation twisting together, searing my throat. My fingers tighten around the door handle. “After all, you are you and I’m just little old me.”

Kellen curses under his breath, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. That’s not—”

“Kellen,” I say, turning to face him now. “I really don’t care if that’s what you meant or not. It’s what you said.”

“That’s not what I said,” he growls.

“But it is.” I shove open the door. One foot is already on the sidewalk when he grabs my arm again, his grip firm but not rough.

“Millie,” he grits out. “You’re taking this all wrong. It’s not what I meant. If you’d just calm dow—”

In the entire history of men and women, not one time has telling the other person to calm down ever worked. “It doesn’t matter.” I wrench my arm free, ignoring the way my skin burns where his fingers were. “There’s nothing left to say, Kellen.”

His hands curl into fists around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “I don’t want to fight with you, Millie. Seriously.”

Something in my chest twists, sharp and deep, but I ignore it. “Yeah?” I turn back to him, my voice intentionally as cold as ice. “Neither do I.” I slam the door shut.

Tires screech as he peels away from the curb, taillights glowing red before disappearing down the street.

My heart is hammering so hard I feel it in my throat, but I refuse to react. Not yet. Turning on my heel, I march up my front steps and push the door open, letting the warmth of my apartment swallow me whole. Only when the door clicks shut behind me and the night is locked firmly outside do I let myself feel anything.

It hurts more than I expect it to.

But it’s for the best.

Because Kellen is right.

I have no place in his world.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kellen

I don’t want to fight with you.

I’ve been driving for at least a half-hour and the words are still rattling around in my head as I keep my eyes on the road in front of me. I didn’t mean what I said the way it came out. Not even a little. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache, but I don’t let up. Not when my heart is still hammering from the way she looked at me. Like I’d just proven every awful thing she already believed about herself, about us.

The second I said a girl like you, I knew I’d screwed up. I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way she shut down right in front of me. But instead of fixing it, I just… made it worse. Snapped at her.

Let my own frustration get in the way.

I slam a palm against the wheel.

Idiot.

The idea of leaving things like this makes me feel sick. I don’t want this to be how we end. Before I can think twice, I yank the wheel and make a hard U-turn in the middle of the road. Horns blare. Someone shouts “Drive off a cliff, asshole!”

I don’t care.

The only thing I care about is getting back to her and fixing this.

By the time I pull up to her house, my pulse is a drumbeat in my ears. I sit there for a second, gripping the wheel, debating whether this is a mistake. She’s probably still pissed. Maybe she doesn’t want to see me.

I have to try, though.

Climbing out of the car, I let out a long exhale then take stairs leading up to her apartment two at a time, knocking before I can talk myself out of it.

Nothing.

I knock again.

This time the door slowly cracks open, revealing her wide swollen eyes looking at me from the other side. “Kellen?” Her voice is wary, cautious.

I don’t want to fight with you.

I’ve been driving for at least a half-hour and the words are still rattling around in my head as I keep my eyes on the road in front of me. I didn’t mean what I said the way it came out. Not even a little. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache, but I don’t let up. Not when my heart is still hammering from the way she looked at me. Like I’d just proven every awful thing she already believed about herself, about us.

The second I said a girl like you, I knew I’d messed up. I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way she shut down right in front of me. But instead of fixing it, I just… made it worse. Snapped at her.

Let my own frustration get in the way.

I slam a palm against the wheel.

Idiot.

Climbing out of the car, I let out a long exhale then take stairs leading up to her apartment two at a time, knocking before I can talk myself out of it.

Nothing.

I knock again.

This time the door slowly cracks open, revealing her wide swollen eyes looking at me from the other side. “Kellen?” Her voice is wary, cautious.

That hurts.

“You’re still up.”

“Yeah, I… was working on a recipe for a special order cake.” She glances over her shoulder, and I see a light dusting of flour on the exposed skin of her neck. “So, I should get back to it.”

“Wait!” I force a breath, dragging a hand through my hair. “I… Uh, I’m sorry.” The words feel inadequate the second they’re out. “I mean… I’m really sorry. I know what I said and that’s not what I meant.”

She hesitates, her grip tightening on the door. “Then what did you mean?”

“I said someone like you, meaning someone who’s kind, someone who’s honest and someone who’s genuinely the most incredible person I’ve ever met. I never meant it the way it sounded. I’m so sorry, Millie. You have every right to be mad at me. I just wanted you to know what I was actually trying to say and that I know I screwed it up and I’m sorry.”

Millie watches me for a long moment, like she’s weighing my words. Her fingers flex on the doorframe. “Do you mean that?” she says finally.

Relief washes over me so hard my knees almost buckle. “Yes.”

She hesitates, then steps back. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh huh,” I admit as I step inside. The door clicks shut behind me, and the air between us feels heavier. Charged.

“I’m sorry, too,” she admits as she crosses her arms. “I… might’ve overreacted a little.”

I snort. “A little.”

Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t fully smile.

Now isn’t the time for teasing. Got it.

I rub the back of my neck. Before she can say anything, I take a step closer. “I know I don’t always say the right thing. I swear, Millie. I don’t want you doubting how much I like you. Or how much I care about you.”

She swallows hard, her eyes searching mine.

I take her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up.

Her breath stutters as her lips part just slightly.

I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away.

She doesn’t.

I close what little distance there is between us by pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is hesitant at first. Careful. But when she doesn’t pull back, I deepen it. She grabs my collar and pulls me closer. Relief crashes through me so hard I feel dizzy. When I finally pull away, I rest my forehead against hers, exhaling unsteadily. “No more fighting,” I murmur. “I won’t hurt you, Millie. I promise.”

She exhales shakily. “I’m trying.” Her fingers twist in my hoodie, like she doesn’t want to let go. “I just don’t understand why you care so much.”

I pull back slightly, staring at her. “Millie, do you really not see it?”

She shakes her head.

I huff out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”

Her mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I grin. “You overthink everything, you help everyone but barely let anyone help you, and you run yourself into the ground trying to prove you don’t need anybody.” My smile softens. “But you also care about everyone way more than you should. And you’re funny. And smart. And so beautiful it actually hurts sometimes.”

Millie stares at me, mouth slightly parted.

“So, if you ever wonder why again,” I say, my voice quieter now. “That’s why.”

She’s silent for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, she lets out a breathy laugh. “You think you’re so charming.”

I smirk and pull her closer to me. “I know I am.”

She shakes her head but doesn’t let go of me. “Kellen, falling into bed isn’t going to fix this.”

I laugh. “Oh, I don’t know about that. But I’m not taking you to bed.”

Her brow furrows. “Then what?”

“You,” I say, tapping the tip of her nose, “are going to teach me how to bake a cake.”

She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “A cake?”

“Yep.” I walk us toward the kitchen, tugging her along with me. “Because clearly, words aren’t my strong suit. So, I figure if I can prove to you that I’m at least trainable and help you with this recipe you’re working on then maybe you’ll keep me around.”

Millie lets out a startled laugh. “You’re a ridiculous man.”

“Yep.” I flash a grin. “But I’m your ridiculous man.”

She groans but doesn’t let go of my hand.

And that’s a win in my book.

***

“It’s…” Millie presses her lips together like she’s trying to find the right word. Her eyes flick everywhere but to my face. “Nice. Very interesting flavor combination.”

I watch as she takes another careful nibble of the cupcake I attempted to decorate. A smudge of bright pink icing clings to her bottom lip.

“The bright pink icing was… a choice,” she adds with a quirk of a grin.

I shrug. “You told me to go crazy.” Leaving me with all her baking supplies while she showered was probably not her best decision, but I’d had fun. They might even look half-way decent for a first-timer.

Millie tilts her head, considering. “I mean, it’s really not… bad.”

I narrow my eyes. “You hesitated.”

She laughs and it’s the first real, warm sound between us since our argument earlier. It softens something in my chest. I reach out and wipe the icing from her lip with my thumb, automatically bringing it to my mouth. The second it hits my tongue, I gag. “Jesus! What the hell?”

Millie bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach as if I’ve just delivered the greatest comedy act of the year. “It’s not that bad,” she says between giggles.

I grab the half-eaten cake from her and step closer, trapping her between my arms on either side of the counter so she can’t grab another one. “It is that bad. Don’t eat that. I don’t know what went wrong, I followed the recip—”

“You sure about that?” she interrupts, teasing and lifting an eyebrow.

“I mean…” I glance back at the tray. “I thought I did.”

“Some people are bakers,” she says, stepping closer toward me. “Some people are fighters,” she adds, putting one hand on my chest. “You, Kellen O’Brien, are definitely not a baker.”

“Lucky for you,” I laugh, wrapping one arm around her waist. “If I was, I could open a rival shop and put you out of business.”

She hums. “You already keep me on my toes, Kellen.”

That lands differently. It’s not just playful, it’s honest and I don’t want her to feel like that around me. “That’s… kind of the whole thing, isn’t it? I don’t want to be the reason you feel like you have to stay on your toes all the time.”

Millie looks at me, surprised.

I don’t blame her.

But after tonight? I need her to know.

I take a step back, giving her space because I know this is a lot and I don’t want her to feel pressured. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to feel like I’m some kind of threat. I don’t want to fight like that again.”

Her lips part slightly. “I don’t either.”

“Good.” I nod. “Because I want to try something. If you want to…”

She tilts her head as she looks up at me. “Oh?”

I hesitate for half a second, wondering if I’m pushing my luck. “I need to go back to the city for a meeting. Three days, four at most. But I was thinking… maybe you could come with me.”

Millie’s eyes widen. “To your place?”

“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “I want you to see where I live, meet some people who know me outside of… this.” I gesture vaguely between us. “I want you to feel like I’m letting you in too.”

Her face softens.

My stomach drops to the floor as I wait.

Please say yes.

Finally, she nods. “Can I think about it?”

It’s not a no. I’ll take what I can get. “Yeah, of course.”

She smiles, just a little.

And, just like that, everything feels right again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Millie

The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls lingers in the air as I wipe down the counter. The idea of closing the shop for a few days has been nagging at me ever since Kellen asked me to go with him. I want to. I really want to, but stepping away from my business, even briefly, feels like a betrayal to everything I’ve built.

The bell above the door jingles as Emily steps inside, slinging her backpack onto the counter then tying on her apron. “Hey, boss,” she says, tugging her hair into a messy ponytail. “Why do you look like you just swallowed a lemon?”

I sigh, tossing the rag into the sink. “I’m thinking about closing the shop for a few days.”

Emily blinks. “Whoa. You? Taking a break? Alert the media.”

I roll my eyes, but she’s not wrong. Before she can respond, the door jingles again, and Mrs. Voss strides in with her cardigan and the tote bag she always carries, filled with a mystery novel and knitting supplies. She’s been coming in since I opened the place, always ordering the same thing.

“One lemon scone and a black coffee. Coming right up, Mrs. Voss,” Emily says, bouncing behind the counter, grabbing a coffee cup and starting the fresh brew.

“Just finished cleaning off your favorite table, Mrs. Voss.” I motion with one hand for her to claim it.

“Ah, thank you,” she says, plopping her tote bag in the seat next to the one she sits in herself. “Did I just hear you say you’re taking a few days off?”

“Oh…” I stammer, trying to decide what to say. I don’t want to scare off customers, but I’m also allowed to have a life outside my business. Right? Sigh. “I have been thinking about it. Nothing major. Just a few days.”

“You know what, dear?” She calls out over her shoulder toward Emily. “Give me a dozen of those lemon scones today.”

My brow furrows. “A dozen? That’s… a lot.”

She waves a hand. “Yes. Well, I can’t go without my daily fix. If you don’t take a break soon, I’m afraid you’re going to keel over behind that counter.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Mrs. Voss smiles knowingly. “Millie, I see how hard you work. We all do. And if you need to close up for a few days, we’ll survive. Your customers will still be here when you get back.” She taps her tote bag. “Trust me.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. “I… thank you. That means a lot.”

She pats my hand. “Sometimes, the best thing you can do for your business is take care of yourself. So go, take your break. We’ll all be here when you get back.”

Emily places her order on the table in front of her, complete with our signature branding twine and ribbon bow wrapped around the box. “Mrs. Voss for president.” She smirks as she cuts her eyes at me before going back behind the counter.

I let out a breath, something uncoiling in me. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s okay to let go, just a little.

I glance at Emily. “Think you could do for a break too, while I’m gone?”

She grins. “I mean, I was hoping to throw an underground party in here, but sure. I guess I’ll be responsible and just catch up on SAT prep.”

I laugh, finally feeling like I’ve made my decision. “Fine. But if I come back to find disco lights and a DJ booth…”

Emily throws me a salute. “Noted.”

With that, I grab my phone and pull up Kellen’s message thread. My fingers hover over the screen for only a second before I type out a reply.

I’m in.

***

I glance around the restaurant, trying to take it all in. The chandeliers glow with soft golden light, bouncing off sleek marble floors and glistening wine glasses. Everything here screams money, elegance, exclusivity.

And then there’s me.

My fingers twitch against the hem of my dress. The only black dress I own and the only thing I found in my closet while packing that looked even remotely appropriate for New York City.

Kellen’s hands settle on the back of my chair.

Warm.

Steady.

Just like him.

I look up and there he is, standing behind me with a wide smile and looking every bit the cover-model version of himself in a crisp shirt and tailored trousers.

The past few days with him have been some of the best of my life. Late nights curled up in my tiny house, stolen kisses in my kitchen, laughter tangled between sheets. It’s crazy how well we fit together. How easy it is to be around him. How much he feels like he belongs in my world. But this?

A real date?

In public?

In a place where people will stare and recognize him?

That’s different.

At least, it is different for me. For him, it’s completely normal and just another day. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like I belong in his and it’s not his fault. It’s just the reality of it.

I sink into my seat as he nudges it in closer to the table. Everything about this feels foreign and unfamiliar. Even the air smells expensive.

His hands land gently on my shoulders. “Relax,” he murmurs, squeezing lightly. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“You always say that,” I remind him, because he does. Every single day, first thing in the morning when I’m still tangled in sheets, after work when I’m covered in flour, before bed when my hair is a mess.

“That’s because you always are,” he says easily, settling into his seat across from me. “And it’s about time I showed you off.”

The candlelight flickers between us, catching in his dark eyes.

I force a small nod.

His fingers brush over mine. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitate. “It’s just… really… I don’t exactly fit in here.”

Across from me, Kellen chuckles. “Me neither, if I’m honest.” His lips twitch. “But everyone’s looking at you, not me.”

I scoff, my cheeks warming. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” His thumb lazily traces a circle on the back of my hand.

“They’re wondering who the gorgeous woman with Kellen O’Brien is.”

I shake my head, not buying it for a second. If anyone’s looking, it’s because they’re trying to figure out why someone like me is sitting with someone like him. I lean in slightly. “Kellen, they’re not looking at me. They’re wondering what you’re doing here with me.”

Something flickers in his gaze. And then, before I can process it, he reaches across the table, tugs me toward him and kisses me.

Not deep and not demanding.

Just a kiss meant to be seen.

When he pulls back, he smirks. “Now they know.”

I swallow hard, still thrown off balance.

“You don’t have to worry, Millie,” he says, voice low. “I’m the one lucky enough to be seen with you. Not the other way around.”

I exhale. “That’s not exactly true.”

He shrugs. “We’re from the same town. I’m a fighter. You’re fighting too, just in a different way by opening your own business and working for your dreams. We’re just two people doing what we love and trying our best.”

He makes it so easy to forget how different we are. When it’s just us, he’s just Kellen and I’m just Millie. But out here? In the real world with fans holding their phones in the air trying to get a social media perfect shot? It’s impossible to ignore.

“Excuse me.”

The soft voice makes me look up. A waitress stands beside our table, shifting on her feet, looking nervous.

Oh.

I know what’s coming.

Kellen does too. I see it in the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, chewing on her lip. “I just wanted to say…”

“Now, now.”

A new voice cuts in. Silky, smooth, confident. A woman in an expensive designer dress glides up to our table. She definitely doesn’t work here. She leans down, pressing a kiss to Kellen’s cheek as the massive diamond on her earlobe nearly blinds me. “Kellen, darling.” She pulls back with a smile that definitely doesn’t feel right. “What are you doing here? I haven’t heard from you in ages. You don’t call. You don’t write.” She laughs, the sound polished and practiced and gross.

Kellen barely reacts. “I’ve been busy, Nancy.”

Nancy.

The name rings a bell. I’m just not sure why.

Her deep red lips purse. “Too busy for me?” She pouts, resting a manicured hand on the table.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, which causes her gaze to shift toward me.

Her eyes sweep over me like she’s assessing my net worth in real-time.

“Oh.” Her mouth quirks in something that’s almost amusement. “And who’s your little friend? Is this one of the underprivileged kids you want to help?”

I stiffen.

Not because she called me an underprivileged kid, I’m neither. But because she is exactly the type of woman I’ve imagined hanging off Kellen’s arm.

And worse?

She knows about his plans for the future. His charity work. His life.

How would she know that if he hadn’t told her?

My stomach twists into a knot.

Before my thoughts can spiral, Kellen’s voice cuts through them. “This is my girlfriend.” He says it clearly, no hesitation. “Millie, this is Nancy. Nancy, Millie.”

Nancy’s shock is visible, though she quickly masks it. “Your girlfriend?” Her smile turns sharp as she reaches out a hand, drenched in gold and diamonds.

I take it hesitantly.

“The pleasure is mine,” she purrs. “You must be special indeed to have snagged our boy here.” She laughs again, like this is all a joke. “Well, excuse me. I should get back to my table. You kids have fun.” She saunters off, leaving the scent of expensive perfume in her wake.

Kellen exhales, shaking his head. “Kids,” he grumbles under his breath. “I’m older than she is.”

My voice comes out before I can stop it. “Who is she, Kellen?”

He blinks at me, then sighs. “Nancy?”

I bite my tongue to keep from saying every unhinged thought rolling through my brain right now, but I nod to answer his question.

“She’s married,” he interrupts. “To Brock. My manager.”

“Oh.” I try to sound nonchalant, but the way my chest immediately unclenched is hard to hide.

“Third wife since I’ve known him. They get younger every time.” He smirks. “Was that a little hint of jealousy I just heard?”

“No,” I lie.

“Uh huh.” His laughter is soft now. “Millie, you’re the first woman I’ve brought here.” His thumb strokes over my fingers. “I want you to trust me.”

I swallow hard. “I’m trying.”

His hand tightens around mine. “It’s scary for me too, you know,” he murmurs. “But I want to do life with you, Millie.”

I take a breath, lacing my fingers with his. “I know,” I whisper. “Me too.”

***

The ride back to Kellen’s place is quiet. Not uncomfortable, just… different.

Kellen doesn’t seem phased. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console like he’s waiting for me to take his hand.

I take a deep breath and reach out, intertwining my fingers with his but I’m still replaying the dinner in my head. The stares, the whispered conversations, the blonde woman with the diamonds who made it very clear I didn’t belong but the way Kellen squeezes my hand in his makes me feel like I do.

By the time we reach his house and finally step inside, my feet are screaming from my heels, my head’s buzzing, and I feel anything but like myself. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

Kellen locks the door behind us and starts rolling up his sleeves. “Are you okay?”

I nod, kicking off my shoes with more force than necessary. “Yeah. Just…” I exhale. “I think I need a shower.”

He studies me for a second, like he’s debating whether to invite himself to join me. He doesn’t. Just tips his chin toward the hall. “Make yourself at home.”

I disappear into his bathroom, twisting the shower handle until the water’s nearly scalding.

For a few minutes, it’s just me, the sound of water and the dull throb of everything I’m feeling but don’t want to say out loud.

The moment I step under the water, I feel the tension in my neck and shoulders begin to release. Slowly, but steadily. Come on, Millie. You can do this.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Millie

“Thank you for coming with me.” Kellen whispers into my ear just as the elevator dings to let us know we’ve arrived at the executive’s floor for his meeting with his old marketing team.

“Of course,” I say, trying to hide the nerves building inside of me.

He reaches out and takes my hand in his, pulling me along behind hm. The area is decorated in all steel and glass. Sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp reflections off polished surfaces and reminding me just how high above the city we actually are. The view is striking and does absolutely nothing to settle the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine.

I trail a step behind Kellen as he pushes open the glass door leading into the lobby, his broad shoulders filling the doorway like he belongs here.

Maybe he does.

But I’m sure I don’t.

A group of men—most of them older and dressed in suits that look like they cost more than my shop’s monthly rent—are ready and waiting, immediately stretching their hands out to greet him as soon as we enter the lobby. Kellen moves forward to shake hands, his presence commanding, but no one spares me more than a glance.

Honestly, I don’t blame them.

It’s not rude.

Just indifference.

I know I’m not in the industry, but it still stings to be treated as a throw away.

Kellen never treats me that way though. He reaches back and gently guides me forward, so I’m standing beside him as he introduces me. I paste on a polite smile as hands are shaken, names exchanged. None that I’ll remember and I’m sure they won’t remember mine. A few smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes.

I may as well be part of the décor.

The only one who really looks at me is a man in his forties, his suit crisp, his watch gleaming under the overhead lights. His gaze lingers just a second too long before sliding away. Something in his expression tells me not to be left alone in a room with him.

I force myself to breathe. I knew what this was. I came here to support Kellen. That’s all that matters. Still, I feel myself shrink a little as one of the suits steps forward and gestures behind him. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

We follow him down the long corridor to a conference room. Kellen pulls one of the seats out for me, which I allow myself to settle into. He sits in the seat beside me as I’m smoothing my dress over my thighs.

“So,” one of the men says, flipping through a portfolio with Kellen’s name printed in bold across the top. “You want us to handle the PR rollout for this foundation idea of yours.”

“Not just the PR,” Kellen says. His tone is level, but I hear the edge underneath. “I want funding, connections. I’m looking for real involvement from the company, Steve.”

There’s a brief silence before another man speaks. “Look, Kellen, it’s admirable. It really is. Giving kids an outlet, helping them get off the streets. It makes a good story. But you know how these things go. Your brand is… over.”

Kellen’s jaw flexes. “It’s not over. I refused to play the game and quit fighting. I get that. You all need to get your shots in to make sure I remember my place this time. I’ve spent enough time in a ring to know how that works.”

“If we tie this into your fight, get some sponsorship backing, we can make this a hell of a brand move,” the man says smoothly. “But it won’t come without a price.”

“What might that be?” Kellen asks, leaning forward and leveling a gaze that I imagine would make his opponents forfeit and get the hell out of the ring.

Steve leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his mid-section.

“You’re gearing up for a huge comeback fight. This is the perfect time to build the right narrative. Fighter-turned-philanthropist. The guy who gives back.”

Kellen exhales slowly, like he’s counting to ten in his head. “I don’t remember agreeing to a comeback fight.”

“If you want help with this launch then I’d strongly consider it, if I were you.”

He lets out a deep sigh that makes my heart clench. It hurts for him. “I need real support. I don’t want this to be some gimmick that gets forgotten after the fight.”

Watch Guy—the one who’d looked at me a little too long earlier—leans forward, interlocking his fingers. “We get what you’re saying. But the reality is, philanthropy doesn’t sell unless it’s attached to something bigger. We can make sure your name and this cause stay in the conversation. You’re the product, Kellen. People invest in you first. That’s how we make this work.”

I glance at Kellen, but he doesn’t look at me. His gaze is locked on the table, his jaw clenched so tight I wonder if he might crack a tooth. Something curdles in my stomach.

They aren’t talking about helping kids.

They’re talking about helping themselves.

The conversation barrels forward, the men around the table dissecting him like a commodity.

I sit stiffly, my hands folded in my lap, as they discuss media reach, how to market his cause, how to spin his involvement into something that benefits everyone at the table.

Then Watch Guy shifts in his chair, cutting his gaze to Kellen. “You’re lucky,” he says casually. “You’re being given a second chance. Most fighters don’t get that.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s making a threat. “He isn’t being given a second chance. He’s giving your firm a second chance at representing him.”

“Excuse me?” The one Kellen called Steve says with a mixture of shock and amusement on his face.

Watch guy leans forward as if to intimidate me. He doesn’t know who I am or what I’ve already survived. He can’t hurt me worse than my thoughts already do, every single day. “You’re lucky to even be in this room because Kellen brought you. If I were you, I’d remember my place and keep my mouth shut.”

“She’s not lucky,” Kellen cuts in, his voice sharp. “I am.” He glances at me and grips my hand tightly beneath the table. “And she’s right.”

“Now, Kellen,” Steven interrupts, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“No.” Kellen interrupts right back. “Here’s the deal,” he says, his voice like steel. “I’ll do the fight. The press. The interviews. Whatever you need me to do. But I want real commitments from you and sponsors for these kids. Not just good optics. That’s the only way I’m agreeing to let you attach my name to this.”

The energy in the room shifts.

For the first time, the men actually listen.

One clears his throat. “We’d have to go over the numbers.”

“Do it.” Kellen’s tone leaves no room for argument. “And never talk to her like that again,” he adds.

Steve finally leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression unreadable. “We’ll need to make some calls.”

“Make them,” Kellen says. He doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t shake hands. Just stands up, pushing his chair back. I follow, my legs unsteady, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me.

As we walk toward the door, I feel their eyes on our backs. I went from feeling invisible to feeling like I’m part of the equation they’re trying to solve, an element they haven’t quite figured out how to use to their advantage.

The hallway outside is quieter, but the tension doesn’t leave my body.

Kellen exhales hard as he runs a hand through his thick dark hair. “That could have gone worse.”

I have so much I want to say to him. I want to tell him how much better he is than those vultures. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to settle for being treated like a prop, because he is so much more than the dollar signs they see when they look at him. But the words stick in my throat, so I squeeze his hand instead. “Can we go back home now?”

His gaze lingers on me for a beat longer than usual, but he nods.

We step outside, the city moving around us, and I realize I can’t wait to leave it behind.

***

Kellen’s arm is heavy across my waist, his body warm against mine, his breath steady in sleep. The city lights are gone now, replaced by the soft hue of early morning filtering through my apartment’s windows. I don’t move. I don’t want to. If I stay still, I can pretend time isn’t passing, pretend we’re still on the floor, breathless and tangled up, lost in the promises we made.

Stay. Wait for me, he’d said.

It was never even a question.

The press tour will take him away from me, but not for long and then he’ll be back home. Working at the gym with his brother and helping the kids here.

I close my eyes and press my forehead against his chest, breathing him in. His scent—clean, warm, something distinctly him—settles over me, wrapping around me as completely as his arms had last night. I don’t know how I got here, how I let myself fall so deep so fast, but I don’t care.

Life is perfect. Absolutely perfect.

It was good before our time in the city, but the moment we got back, something shifted. Good turned into perfection. Like we stepped over some invisible line, moving past uncertainty into something solid. There’s no doubt in my heart anymore, he wants to be with me. And he proves it, over and over again.

I’m happy.

He’s happy. He says so and I believe him.

I glance up at him from where I’m nestled into his chest using him as my pillow, watching him sleep.

My chest aches.

How did I live without this?

Without him?

The thought creeps in before I can stop it. It’s ridiculous, I know.

He’s leaving for a week, not forever. But the idea of coming home after work to an empty apartment, no warm, muscled body getting in my way in the kitchen, no rough voice teasing me about my baking obsession… it makes my heart clench.

Tears slip down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying.

Kellen shifts beside me.

“Morning.” His voice is thick with sleep as he rolls onto his side, wiping at his eyes before burrowing closer. “You’re up early.”

I smile and bend to kiss his lips. I am up early. Usually, he’s the one awake before me. By the time I even open my eyes, he’s trained, showered, cooked breakfast.

His brows pull together. His thumb brushes my cheek. “You’re crying?” He catches a tear with his fingertip, his forehead creasing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I sniffle, annoyed with myself. “I don’t even know.” I force a smile. “Good morning, lazy bum.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” His grip tightens, pulling me into his chest. “You’re not changing the subject.” He starts pressing light kisses to my face, chasing away the last of my tears.

God, I’m going to miss this.

“I thought you were happy?” he murmurs.

Swallowing hard, I meet his gaze. “I am. That’s the problem.”

His brows pull together. “You’re crying because you’re happy?” He shakes his head. “That makes no sense.”

Maybe not. But it makes perfect sense to me.

“I just…” I hesitate. How much do I say? I don’t want to sound desperate. I don’t want to make him feel trapped. But the words spill out anyway. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you here.”

Kellen studies me, his gaze softening.

“The last few weeks have been…”

“Amazing?” he finishes for me. “Perfect? Life-changing?”

A giggle bubbles up in my throat despite the tightness in my chest. “Yes. All of those things. I don’t want it to end.”

His expression darkens slightly, his grip on me firm but reassuring. “It’s not ending, Millie.” His lips press against my forehead. “I promise.”

I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his body and the safety I feel when I’m with him.

“You could come with me, you know?”

I shake my head. “I can’t close the bakery again. Not so soon.”

“I know,” he says, pressing another gentle kiss to my temple. “What time do you have to be at work today?” he asks.

“Early.” I sigh. “And I won’t finish until late.”

“Are you training at the gym tonight?”

I hesitate. I can feel his gaze, even without looking at him. Like he’s watching intently, waiting for my answer. I bask in it. No one has ever looked at me the way Kellen does. Like I’m everything. “Yeah,” I finally say.

“I’ll see you there then,” he says. “I have a meeting, and I told him to catch me at the gym.”

“With Steve?” I guess.

“No. Brock.” He exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “He wants to go over some things to ensure the press conference runs smoothly.” His voice takes on a frustrated edge. “It’s already turning into a circus.”

I prop myself up on my elbow, smoothing his hair back. “I know you hate it,” I say gently. “But it’ll be worth it. It’s for a great cause. Your cause.” I kiss him softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

His chest rises and falls with a deep breath before he exhales. “Thank you.” He stretches, arms reaching over his head as he yawns. My gaze trails over him, the way his muscles flex, the way the morning light catches on the ridges of his abs.

I am definitely the luckiest woman in the world.

“We should probably take separate cars today,” he murmurs. “I don’t know what time I’ll be finished.”

“Okay.” My fingers tiptoe across the bedspread toward him. “We should probably get up and showered. We both have busy days ahead.” I drag a fingertip up through the grooves of his six-pack, watching his stomach muscles flex under my touch.

Kellen glances down, a slow smile curving his lips. “Yeah. We probably should.” He shifts, leaning over me, cupping my cheek in his palm. His eyes flick to my mouth. “I need to shower…”

“Or?”

He raises a brow. “Or what?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks.

He knows. I see it in his eyes, the amusement, the challenge. Then he presses me into the pillows, catching my bottom lip between his teeth. I moan softly, my eyes fluttering closed.

Or this.

This is perfect.

When we’re together, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

Looping my arms around his neck, I pull him closer. “Or we could stay here.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kellen

“Millie.” I’ve been waiting to see her walk by again ever since I caught a glimpse of her heading to her Thursday class. When she finally passes the office door, I lean out of the doorway. “Come here a minute, babe.”

She hesitates, her gaze flicking past me to Brock, still seated behind the cluttered desk. “Hey, Kellen.” Her voice is soft. Almost unsure. She shifts her weight, swinging her bag from hand to hand.

It hits me how much she looks like she did that night I surprised her at her shop, hoping I wasn’t wrong about her. About us. It feels like forever ago. But also like it was just yesterday. That’s the thing about Millie. Every second with her gets etched into me like it matters. Because it does. She’d probably call me crazy, but hell, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her.

I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my side, pressing a kiss into her hair. She smells like her shop. Vanilla, sugar and whatever shampoo she uses that drives me half-insane. “Where are you sneaking off to?”

She leans into me, her voice still shy. “I just didn’t want to interrupt. Kody said you were still in a meeting.”

“Oh, this?” I gesture over my shoulder. “Just a quick catch-up before the press gets here.” I kiss her again. I can’t help it. If Brock weren’t sitting right there giving me that look, I’d drag her into the office and lock the door.

“The press?”

“You forgot?” I chuckle, leading her a little deeper into the room.

Kody’s workspace is barely big enough for one person, let alone three.

“Brock scheduled a small release to kick off the foundation stuff. Get some buzz going.” I glance down at her. “You’re going to be here for it, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She says with a quick nod. “I just need to run home and change. I forgot to bring anything other than this,” she gestures her hand up and down her body, which from my perspective looks damn good in her workout attire but I understand wanting to get out of sweat soaked clothes for the conference.

Brock clears his throat as he stands.

“Brock, this is the woman I’ve been telling you about. Millie.”

He strides forward, all polished charm and extends his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Millie reaches for it, quick and polite. She’s blushing. I don’t have to look to know it. She kills me. So bold one minute, then suddenly this shy, quiet thing I just want to wrap in my jacket and protect from the world around us.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Brock says, flashing the smile that’s made him millions. “Our boy won’t shut up about you.”

“Thanks, I—”

“Now, Kellen…” And just like that, the charm is gone. Brock’s voice turns clipped. All business.

Beside me, Millie stiffens. I squeeze her waist gently, trying to silently say, Don’t take it personally. This is just how he is.

“You should go find your brother and get ready,” Brock continues.

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I probably should. You know how he is.” I glance at Millie. “Let me walk you to your car first.”

“I’ll walk her.” Brock steps forward again, offering his arm like a true gentleman, which I know for a fact he is not. “It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.”

Millie’s eyes flick to his arm, then up to me.

“He won’t bite,” I say, smiling like it’s all fine even though my jaw’s tightening. “If you’re okay with it then I’ll go round up Kody.” But I can’t let her leave without touching her one more time. I pull her close, tighter, and kiss her. Not quick. Not casual. A kiss deep enough to make a point. “I’ll see you later, alright?” I say against her lips.

Her fingers grip the front of my shirt.

Just for a second.

Then she nods.

And I let her go, watching her disappear down the hall with a man who sees the world in dollar signs.

***

Press conferences never get easier. And this one? This one’s the hardest one I’ve ever done, including the Live I did to tell the world I had been traded in for a newer model.

Usually, before a fight, I’ve got a whole persona to step into. Full swagger, cocky grin, trash talk on tap, but today’s is different.

Today, I have to be me.

I have to be vulnerable. Honest. Just like I was in that livestream that started all of this.

I have to tell my story.

And that’s already hard enough. Doing it without her? Nearly impossible.

Millie said she’d be here. She’d promised. She told me she wouldn’t let me go through this alone. But as the interview winds down, I still don’t see her in the small makeshift auditorium.

My stomach twists.

Did something happen?

Is she okay?

It’s not a long drive from her place to the gym, but that doesn’t mean she’s not hurt or stuck somewhere. What if she got into an accident, and here I am, standing on stage pissed off because I wanted her here to hold my hand through this?

“One last question,” a member of the media says, shifting in her seat like she’s winding up for drama. “There are rumors you’ve been seen with a woman. Is it true you’re officially off the market, Kellen?” She doesn’t even wait for me to answer. “What can you tell us about her?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement behind the cameras.

“There’s nothing to tell you,” Brock cuts in before I can say a word.

His hand lands on my shoulder—heavy, deliberate—at the exact moment I open my mouth. The press liaison materializes on my other side, tilting the nearest microphone away as camera flashes erupt. I tried.

The words were there. But the noise swallowed them whole, and all anyone heard was Brock.

“Kellen is as single as single can be.” He lets out a booming laugh, the kind he saves for when he’s closing million-dollar deals. “Nothing’s ever going to change that about our boy.”

I freeze.

Because now I see her.

Millie.

She’s standing just past the cameras, next to Kody.

And she heard that. Every word.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. Her face is blank.

That terrifies me.

Millie’s never blank. She’s always something—fire, passion, opinions, heart. Blank isn’t her. My legs move before my brain catches up. “Millie?” I call out, pushing past the crew.

Slowly, she lifts her head, and her eyes meet mine with that same unreadable expression.

“Brock doesn’t speak for me,” I say to her and to the press, but it doesn’t seem to matter. None of them can hear me over the chatter.

“Don’t.” She lifts a hand to stop me.

The lump that had been forming in my throat solidifies its place, choking me.

“You don’t need to explain.”

There’s something in her hand.

Something white.

An envelope.

She thrusts it toward me. My fingers brush hers. They’re cold and trembling.

“Millie?”

“I was going to come down here and throw it at you,” she says, voice low and tight. “But what’s the point?” Her voice trembles at the end and I reach for her. She stumbles backward. “I’m not for sale, Kellen O’Brien. I never have been.” The fury in her voice cuts through me like a blade. “You don’t have to buy me off to end it.” Her voice breaks, and she scrubs at her cheeks like the tears offend her.

“What the hell, Kellen?” Kody’s voice slices into me from the side.

He’s staring at the envelope in my hand.

I look down.

Cash.

A thick stack of it.

The world tilts.

“Millie, I didn’t…” I look up, but she’s already walking away.

Beside me, Brock reaches over and plucks the envelope from my fingers like it doesn’t mean a damn thing. “It’s for the best, son. Girls like her aren’t good for your image.” He claps a hand on my shoulder.

“My image?” I want to scream. “I don’t give a damn about my image. I wasn’t with Millie because she made me look good. I was with her because she made me feel good. Real, grounded, whole.” Around her, I didn’t have to play a part. “What the hell did you do, Brock?” My voice shakes. “What the hell have you done?”

CHAPTER TWENTY
Millie

“Do not cry. Do not cry,” I mumble to myself as I rush through the gym. I don’t even realize I’m saying it out loud until the woman behind the reception desk lifts her head, one eyebrow raised like she’s trying to place me, or maybe judge me. I don’t care. I barely glance at her. She’s probably the kind of girl who should be on Kellen’s arm. She’s polished and seems to have confidence in spades. Hell, everyone in this damn building is probably a better fit for him than I ever was. But I had been foolish enough to believe otherwise.

I shove through the glass doors and step out into the night. Rain smacks me in the face the second I’m outside. I tilt my head up to it, trying to let it mix with the tears already slipping down my cheeks. It feels good. Cold and sharp against my burning skin.

“No crying until you get home,” I whisper again, arms wrapping tightly around my body as I hurry toward my car. Only… halfway across the parking lot. All the closer spaces were taken by the time I had arrived after cleaning up after my class earlier.

A sob breaks free from my throat before I can stop it.

I had thought Kellen would be with me after the conference and even chuckled to myself when I thought about how pissed off he’d be to see how far I’d parked. He hates the idea of me walking across the lot alone at night. He’s protective like that.

Sweet & considerate.

No. He’s not.

I grit my teeth.

He’s the biggest coward in the entire universe. What decent human being ends a relationship by sending their manager to deliver an envelope of money to their girlfriend who they’d invited to be here?

Kellen O’Brien—world-renowned fighter, fearless in the ring, adored by millions—-turns out to be the kind of man who can’t even look a woman in the eye when he breaks her heart.

If he wanted to end things, he should’ve done it privately. With respect. Not asking his manager to blindside me in the parking lot.

It’s unforgivable.

And yet, part of me still wonders if I brought this on myself. I knew his reputation. I teased him about it. So, what made me think I was different? What made me think I mattered more than anyone else?

“Millie?”

I blink against the rain.

Kody.

He steps into my path, soaked through and frowning, his usually cocky face etched with concern. “Millie,” he says again, softer this time as he takes another step toward me.

I shake my head hard, spinning on my heel. Hell no. I am not talking to anyone with the last name O’Brien. If that means walking home in the pouring rain, so be it. I’ll come back for my car tomorrow. Or never.

“Millie, wait up!”

I walk faster, arms squeezing tighter around my body. But I can hear his sneakers slapping through puddles. It doesn’t take long for him to catch up. His hand reaches out and lands on my arm, gentle but firm.

I keep my back to him and stare straight ahead.

“Millie,” he says softly, stepping in front of me. His eyes carry the same type of sadness I feel. “Are you okay?”

I flash him my most sarcastic grin. “Never better.”

God, what a stupid question.

He lifts his brows like he knows it, too. “Right. That was dumb. Sorry.”

“No problem.” I try to push past him but he blocks me.

“I just wanted to make sure you were… I don’t know… okay… enough?” He glances over his shoulder. “Your car’s that way. Why are you walking?”

I shrug. One shoulder. No words. I can’t trust myself to speak without crying.

“Millie, let me drive you home.”

“No, thank you. It’ll help clear my head,” I say, trying to convince myself just as much as I’m trying to convince him. “I’ll come get my car another time. When—”

“When my brother won’t be here?” he finishes gently.

I flinch.

“Millie, you didn’t even give him a chance to explain.”

I stiffen. “What is there to explain, exactly?” My voice shakes. “He ended things. Cowardly too, I might add. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s mad as hell,” Kody says, like that helps. “He didn’t know anything about it. I know Kellen better than anyone. He would never—”

“Then where is he, Kody?” The words explode out of me. My cheeks burn. I lower my voice, swiping at my face. Rain. Just rain. Not tears. He can’t tell. “If he wanted to explain so badly, he’d be here right now. Wouldn’t he?” I spin in a circle, arms out. “Do you see him? Because I don’t.” My voice cracks. I hate that it cracks. “So, you can go back in there and tell him to take his excuses and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Kody’s lips twitch but he hides the smile quickly. “He didn’t come out because I told him I would first. He’s still in there, ripping Brock a new asshole. It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care.”

His face falls. “No. I can’t imagine I would either, but—”

“No buts, Kody. Tell Kellen I never want to see him again.” The sound of heavy foot falls approaching from behind me hit with a thud against the pavement muffled by the puddles forming. I don’t need to look to know.

It’s him.

“Millie, just let him explain—”

“No.” I hold up a hand, cutting Kody off. “Thanks for checking on me, Kody. Really, but I’m fine. I’ll see you around.”

“Give me your keys,” Kody says, reaching his open palm out in front of me.

“What?”

“Give me your keys,” he says, again. “I’ll bring you your car after I close up.”

That’s not a bad idea, actually. I drop the key to my car into his waiting hand.

I start walking again.

I’m not going to stand here and listen to whatever sob story Kellen’s about to serve. I already know how it goes. He didn’t mean it, it wasn’t his fault, it’s complicated.

Well, screw that.

Some things are unforgivable.

“Millie, please.”

Kellen’s voice hits me like a punch to the ribs.

“Leave her to calm down, brother,” Kody says quietly.

“How can I do that when she won’t even let me explain?”

The desperation in Kellen’s voice almost breaks me. Almost. But I don’t turn around.

“I can’t just let her walk—”

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Kody says. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

Understatement of the century.

“You’ll make sure she’s okay?”

Kellen sounds unsure, like he’s still hoping I’ll turn around.

“Yes,” Kody says. “I’ll keep her safe.”

My lips curl into a sneer.

What is it with the O’Brien brothers and this whole protecting me thing?

I can take care of myself.

Especially now.

Especially from him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kellen

Please answer me, Millie.

I’m worried.

I stare at the screen hoping to see those three little dots start bouncing to signal that she’s typing out a reply, but nothing. I can’t even guess how many times I’ve called and messaged since last night. Too many to count, and there’s still complete radio silence from her. I can’t help but be worried.

Not because I think she’s unsafe, Kody assured me she was fine when he came back last night after taking her car to her. He said she came to the door with red eyes and in her pajamas and wrapped up in her robe. I hate that I had anything to do with making her feel so terrible.

I’m worried about us.

About the state of our relationship, because in my head we’re still in one. She might feel differently but absolutely nothing’s changed on my end. Brock massively overstepped, and I put him in his place. He even apologized, which is unheard of. If Millie would just talk to me, I could explain it all. It’s one giant misunderstanding. A big one, yeah. But it’s something we could work through. If she ever speaks to me again, of course.

I scuff the toe of my boot against the sidewalk and try the door to the bakery again, even though the sign says “Closed.” It’s after nine in the morning. She should be here.

“Any sign of her?” I turn to find Kody standing behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“No. Any luck at her place?”

It was his idea to split up and look for her, but I can tell from the look on his face that he came up empty too. My shoulders slump as he shakes his head. “Where the hell is she?”

“She’s probably just laying low, Kellen. What happened last night…” He trails off. “It was complete and total bullshit.”

He’s right. It was a total shitshow, and it was all on me. I knew Brock wasn’t thrilled about my relationship with some unknown girl as he’d called her, but I thought I’d made my point and actually gotten through to him. Millie makes me happy. More than happy. When I’m with her, I feel whole. Like I can actually be myself. None of the girls Brock ever approved of from a managerial angle made me feel like that. They were just good for the bottom line because they boosted the media reach.

“Yeah, I know.” I let out a long breath. “I’m just… worried about her. She’s never gone this long without answering before. You’re sure she got home okay?”

Kody gives me a look like I’ve lost it, but answers anyway. “I told you, already. I brought her car to her, dropped her key in her hand. She closed the door, and I heard it lock behind her. She’s probably just ignoring you, bro.” He claps me on the shoulder hard enough to knock most people off balance. I barely flinch. We’ve been throwing punches at each other since we could walk. “Give her time to cool down,” he says.

I frown. He says it like it’s simple. But I don’t have time. I leave Monday to start promoting the new foundation, the one that wouldn’t even exist without her. She’s the reason I started it. The reason I wanted to be a better man in the first place.

I started fighting for Kody.

But now, I want to fight for her.

For us.

She was always there. Quiet and steady, two rows behind me in a classroom I’d barely paid attention to, on the edges of a world I’d been too busy charging through to ever look back at. She’d been there my whole damn life, and I’d looked right past her. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

I can’t leave town with this hanging over us like a damn thunder cloud.

I have to talk to her. Even if she can’t forgive me, even if she never wants to see me again. I have to try. “I know,” I mutter. “I just… I don’t have time.”

I glance down the street. It’s getting busier. People are out and about, smiling and going on with thier day until they see me standing here. They avert their eyes quickly, but not before I catch the judgment in their faces.

And honestly? I can’t blame them. I might’ve been their golden boy, but whathappened last night? Unforgivable.

“We should get off the street before Mrs. Voss hits you with her cane,” Kody jokes.

I don’t laugh. But when I turn, I see her barreling toward us. Tiny now, but fierce and with the same fire in her eyes she had when she taught us both in school.

“Good morning, Mrs. Voss,” Kody says cheerily.

She doesn’t even glance at him. Her eyes lock on mine, and they’re anything but friendly. “You,” she snaps, glancing at the Closed sign before pinning me in place again. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Kellen O’Brien.”

“I am,” I admit quietly.

“Good.” She huffs. “Your mother would be ashamed of the man you’ve become.”

I lower my eyes. There’s nothing I can say to that.

“Come on, Mrs. V.,” Kody mutters. “That’s a little harsh.”

“No. She’s right.” I try to smile. It doesn’t happen though. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Even if, technically, I didn’t do anything wrong. It wouldn’t have happened without my being involved.

“It’s no wonder she left.”

My heart slams against my ribcage. “She left?”

I search her face. “How do you know that?”

“She drove past me, heading to the interstate, not ten minutes ago.”

“It couldn’t have been her,” Kody says, shaking his head. “Her car’s at her place. I saw it myself.”

Mrs. Voss shrugs. “Who said she was driving her car? Did I?” She glances over her shoulders, mocking us. “I don’t think I did,” she adds, swinging back around to glare at me. “Kellen O’Brien, are you jealous? You don’t have any right to be. It would serve you right if she was with someone else. Now, move out of my way. You two take up the whole damn sidewalk.”

“Hey, what did I do?” Kody whines as she waves her cane in front of her, forcing us to step to opposite sides unless we want to get bopped in the knee with that damn thing.

“Don’t even get me started on you, Kody O’Brien. The less said, the better. And I’ve got things to do.” She bustles off, leaving us frozen on the sidewalk.

I turn my head slowly toward my brother. “What the hell did you do?”

“Me?” he squeaks. “Nothing!”

“She said—”

“She says a lot of things,” Kody says, shaking his head quickly like he’s trying to clear out the last two minutes from his memory banks. “Anyway, you’re the one who fucked up.”

Damn. He’s right. “She’s gone.”

Kody chuckles. “Until she comes back and tries to take us out with that cane, again.”

“Not her, you idiot.” I drag one hand through my hair and down the back of my neck. I’ve done this. I drove her away from her home, her business, from everything. Is the idea of seeing me again really that bad? I already know the answer.

Yeah. It is.

And maybe my biggest mistake was not going after her last night when I should have. I listened to everyone telling me to give her space. “What the hell do I do now?” I ask quietly.

“You wait, brother,” Kody says. “She’ll be back. This is her home.”

I know that. But it doesn’t help the sinking in my gut.

She might come back, but I’ll be gone. If I don’t get to talk to her before I leave for the press tour, I could actually lose her for good. “Let’s go back to the gym,” I say. “I need to blow off some steam.”

Kody raises an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to get my ass kicked?”

I grin for the first time all day.

Because yeah, that’s exactly what’s about to happen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Millie

The bell above the door jingles as I step into the bar, and for a moment, I just stand there, blinking against the dim lighting and the scent of stale beer and old wood. A couple of older men are already hunched over the bar, nursing beers. One glances in my direction but quickly returns to his drink.

The bartender gives me a polite nod, then goes back to wiping down glasses.

No judgment.

Just routine.

I exhale slowly, trying to push the weight of the past twenty-four hours off my shoulders. It doesn’t work. It’s still there. Tight, sharp, lodged between my ribs.

Ella’s already here, of course. She’s perched at a high-top table in the back, dressed in a red blazer over a cropped band tee and jeans that fit her like they were designed just for her. Her hair is swept up in a high bun, and she’s sipping something fizzy from a tall glass like we’re meeting for brunch at some fancy rooftop lounge instead of hiding in a hole-in-the-wall bar on a Saturday morning.

She spots me and immediately lifts a hand, waving me over like this isn’t weird at all. Just another Saturday.

God, I love her for that.

I make my way over, sliding onto the stool across from her, dropping my bag on the floor with a sigh I can’t hold in.

Ella gives me a once-over, her expression unreadable. “So,” she says, dragging the word out, but there’s an edge of concern in her voice. “We’re day drinking now?”

I lift my full glass, which she already had waiting on me, and take a sip. I hum softly in response, avoiding her eyes.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “I left a hot Pilates instructor on read for this, babe. You’re gonna have to give me more than a vague grunt and margarita breath.”

I let out a weak laugh. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just… didn’t know who else to call.”

“Hey.” Her tone softens instantly. “I’m here. You know that.”

I nod, eyes stinging. I focus on my drink so I don’t cry again. My heart feels like it’s been scraped raw.

Ella leans forward slightly, resting her elbow on the table. “But if I were to press… I already know this has something to do with a certain fighter. I just don’t know what the hell he did to get you here wearing yesterday’s eyeliner.”

I laugh, but it breaks halfway out of me. “I’m a mess,” I say.

“You’re not a mess,” she counters. “You’re just in the middle of one. Big difference.”

“So… care to let me in on what’s happened? I’m here for you,” she adds, reaching across the table to put her hand on mine.

I really don’t. But I know I owe her at least some answers. She hadn’t even hesitated when I’d called this morning, my voice scratchy with unshed tears, asking if she’d meet me here. The same place we used to go after classes every Friday when we were dorm mates. We haven’t been here in years. I stare at the drink in front of me, letting my fingers trace the rim of the glass. “We broke up.” My voice breaks, so I take another drink, this one longer and steadier.

“What happened?”

I take another sip, too big this time. It nearly chokes me as the tears sting the corner of my eyes. The glass hits the table with a thud as I set it down on its coaster. “He didn’t even have the balls to do it himself. The biggest name in the UFC and he couldn’t even break up with me himself.”

She leans back on her stool with her jaw hung open.

“He handed me an envelope, Ella.”

“An envelope?”

“Full of cash.” The tears start to dry as rage pulses through my veins. “He didn’t even hand it to me. His manager did.”

She chokes on her drink.

“He said Kellen really needs to focus on building up his image again and being with someone like me would hurt his chances at getting any real funding for the program because it would eliminate over half his audience.” I shake my head and drag my hands down my face. RIP to the remains of yesterday’s eyeliner. “It’s not like it was a surprise. I never thought I fit in his world in the first place, but…”

“Oh, honey,” she slides over onto the stool next to me, wrapping her arms around me as I break into a full sob. “You deserve the world and any man who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

“He was so damn convincing,” I say through broken sobs.

She brushes one hand down the back of my head, trying to soothe me but the emotions are just too overwhelming. “The dickhead said I should consider it a generous parting gift.”

“Kellen said that?” she gasps, sitting straight up and pulling back just enough to study my expression.

I shake my head. “His manager,” I explain, wiping at the corners of my eyes. “”I don’t think it was Kellen’s idea. I really don’t.” My voice wavers. “But he didn’t stop it either. Just… stood there. Let it happen. And then he went on live TV…”

“Oh, no.” She pulls me back in for another tight bear hug.

“He said he was single, Ella. After asking me to wait for him while he was on this stupid publicity tour and staying at my apartment damn near every night since he figured out who I was.” I pull back and reach for the margarita I keep hoping will heal my heart. “He said he was single.”

She lets out a low whistle, reaching for her own glass. “That’s next-level cowardice.”

I laugh bitterly as I bring the salty rim to my lips. “You’re not wrong.”

“Okay, but…” she taps her long red fingernails against the table. “You didn’t fall for Kellen O’Brien the headline. You fell for the guy who brought you donuts at closing and learned how to fold cupcake boxes without instructions.”

“Yeah.” She’s nailed it exactly. “That’s the one I miss.”

“Then let him explain,” she says, not letting go of my hand. “Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it at all.”

I snort. “That seems kind of unlikely doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and take a sip of her drink. “It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him. It doesn’t mean you have to take him back. But at least you’ll know and that’s what’s important right now, isn’t it? Knowing.”

I suck in a deep breath and nod slowly. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to be ready,” she says. “But you deserve peace. And if hearing him out gets you closer to that, then do it for you and nothing else.”

I nod slowly, reaching for my bag. “I’ll text him,” I say, pulling my phone out and tapping to turn it on. “Maybe he’ll want to talk.” My phone’s been powered off all morning, but the second it lights up, it buzzes to life like it’s possessed. Missed calls. Texts. Voicemails. My lock screen is drowning in his name.

Ella snatches it out of my hand with a quick grin. “Okay, but not now. Let him stew a little. That’s the very least he deserves.” Then she stands and clinks her glass against mine. “Come on. We’re going to drink, eat something fried and talk about literally anything else.”

“Maybe I’ll meet someone new,” I say, only half-joking.

“Please. Mr. Right is clearly a mess back home. But I’ll let you flirt with a bartender just to keep your skills sharp.”

I grin. “Deal.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kellen

“That’s enough.” Falling back on the mat, Kody taps out, the sharp slap of his hand echoing through the gym. He lays sprawled on the ground, chest heaving.

I’m not any better off with sweat dripping into my eyes blurring my vision, but I still felt like I had a storm beneath my skin. Not from exertion. From something else entirely. A coil of nervous, angry energy thrummed in my veins.

“What the hell was that?” Kody’s voice cut through the haze. He was still on the mat, staring up at me like I’d lost my damn mind. “I know you’re going through some stuff, but you almost broke my neck just now. You never lose control like that.”

I dropped down beside him, legs folding beneath me as I tried to catch my breath. He wasn’t wrong. I don’t lose control, ever. That was the whole point of training, of discipline, of years inside the cage. I don’t get to let my emotions make decisions for me. I don’t act on impulse. But today? Something inside me cracked while we were on the mat. “I’m sorry.” I hold out my hand, silently offering to help him up. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sits up and rolls his shoulders, giving a wince before his gaze narrows. “No real damage. But you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” The word only half-formed and my voice like gravel from the exhaustion. “I don’t know, Kody. All I know is that there’s this… emptiness. Like she took something with her when she walked out. It fucking hurts, man.”

His silence fills in the blanks anyway as he gives a slow, almost pitying shake of his head. “You’re in love with her.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “I keep wanting to run and check my phone to see if she has replied. But then I was like that when everything was fine.” I take a deep breath and drag a hand down my face.

“Yeah, that’s called love brother.”

I try to brush it off with a shrug, but I know he’s right. “I never said it. Not out loud, anyway.”

“Maybe it’s time you do.”

“That’s kind of hard when she won’t pick up the phone,” I groan, throwing myself back onto the mat. “And even if she did… I don’t know where to start. I messed everything up.”

“Technically,” he says holding up one finger as he shifts to tuck his egs underneath him on the mat. “Brock wrecked everything. You need to tell her what happened, man.”

“I know, but if I had just been the one to walk her to the car then he never would’ve had the chance.”

“Kellen, you’ve never been this wrecked over anyone. I’ve seen you come back from knockouts, broken bones, torn muscles and none of that left you like this. You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You nearly took my head off just now because your brain’s all tangled up in her.”

I don’t respond.

I don’t need to.

“She’s different,” I eventually manage to croak out.

“Obviously,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You two just need to have a conversation.”

My jaw clenches tight. “I can’t fucking tell her anything if I can’t even reach her.”

“Well, then maybe stop just calling her cell and start thinking like a human being instead of a caveman.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, have you checked her socials?”

I blinked. “Why would I do that? What am I gonna find? Her trashing me online? She wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you serious right now?” He scoffed. “Nah, she’s probably ghosting the whole world right now. But she might’ve posted something with a location tag. Something that’ll give you a clue as to where she is, so you can go talk to her and apologize for being a dumbass.”

I hesitate as I replay what Mrs. Voss said in my mind.

Kody reaches for his phone and hands it to me with his thumb already unlocking the screen. “Use mine. Your phone’s in the locker room, right?”

I nod, already pulling up the app. “What’s your password?”

“The date of your first pro fight,” he says, completely serious. “Proud little brother moment. Don’t act surprised.”

I give him a sideways glance but say nothing. A second later, the screen loads and there she is. A picture of Millie lights up the screen. She’s sitting at a bar, half-draped over another woman with dark hair and wearing a cropped band tee. They’re both laughing and completely flushed with slightly glassy eyes. She didn’t post it, but someone called EllasWildRide did and tagged her in it.

My jaw tightens as I take in the scene. Empty glasses everywhere. A pack of guys standing behind them with looks in their eyes that I don’t like very much. “She’s at a bar,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “But not one I recognize.”

Kody leans over, studying the image. “I know it. That’s Conners. Dive bar, two towns over. Place has sticky floors and cheap whiskey.”

“How do you know that?”

He smirks. “I dated a girl over there for a few weeks. Short-lived, but I remember the place. Has a sign out front with a broken ‘N’ in Conners. Real charming.”

I stare down at the phone with my ears ringing from the blood pumping through my veins right now. “Should I go?”

“I think,” Kody says slowly, pushing himself up off the mat and onto his feet, “if you sit here one more minute, you’re going to start imagining all kinds of scenarios about what’s happening in that bar. And most of them are going to end with you spiraling even more.”

He has a point.

“Get your keys?” I push myself up and hand him back his phone.

Kody shakes his head. “You’re not even going to shower, are you?”

“Hadn’t planned on it. Feels like I don’t have any time to waste.”

“You’re going to beg for forgiveness covered in sweat and stinking up the place?”

“Yep, I think I am,” I admit as I stalk toward the door. “Let’s go.” I reach his car first and it beeps as he taps the button on his key fob. I tug the passenger side door open and my face wrinkles in disgust. “Dude, your car smells like a fast-food graveyard and old gym socks.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles as he slides behind the wheel. We’re pulling out of the parking space before my seat belt even clicks. I’m not complaining. He’s driving like he’s on a mission with one hand slung over the top of the steering wheel, eyes flicking between the road and the GPS.

Me on the other hand, my heart is thumping against my ribcage like I’m about to walk into a cage fight.

Only this time, it’s not for a belt.

It’s for her.

The yellow lines on the road converge in a fast-moving blur, and still my mind is spinning faster.

I can’t stop seeing her face. The way she looked at me when she was happy with those soft laughter lines sprinkled around her eyes. The way she’d curl into me without hesitation, like she belonged there. Like we belonged.

And then the last time I saw her, when everything felt like it cracked down the middle. When I let silence answer for me instead of honesty.

I’m such a coward.

“You’re quiet,” Kody says, glancing at me. “That’s not usually your thing unless you’re pissed or plotting someone’s murder.”

I huff out a breath, not quite a laugh. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Mm. You got the murder face on,” he says casually.

“I’m not trying to destroy anything.”

“No? Because it sure looked like you were trying to take my head off back at the gym.”

“Are you going to keep bringing that up?”

“Probably” He shrugs. “You’re lucky I’ve got a thick neck. But seriously, what’s going through that giant head of yours?”

“I hate you,” I deadpan as I stare out the window. “I screwed up,” I sigh, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. “I let her walk away and I didn’t chase her. I thought giving her space was the right thing, but now… now I’m just…”

What if she doesn’t want to see me?

What if I’ve already lost her?

What if I get there and I make things worse?

He flips the turn signal. “Yeah, well, no offense, but you’re an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re the smartest dumbass I know. You love her, right?”

I suck in a deep breath and watch the cars and billboards blur as he punches the gas for the on-ramp leading to the interstate. “Yes.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I miss her,” I admit. “Her laugh. Her stubbornness. Her bakery. Hell, even her stupid apron that says Knead Me. I miss it all.”

Kody grins. “That apron’s kind of iconic.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot who might never see it again.” I blink and here she is again. Every freaking time I close my eyes. I see that photo.

Millie, eyes glassy, leaning into her friend like she’s trying to forget something.

Or someone.

Me.

And the guys in the background with their hands on the back of the booth and their disgustingly greedy eyes far too interested in the women seated at the table. I know that look. I’d seen it backstage after fights, in clubs, in locker rooms. I hate that look. “What if she’s not safe, dude? What if I waited too long and those assholes in the pictu—”

A red light forces Kody to hit the brakes hard. “Breathe. You don’t want to kick the door in to the place caveman style, remember?”

I force myself to breathe through my nose, slowly. I won’t burst in there and demand anything. That’s not what this is about. “I just need to see her. To say the things, I’ve been too scared and stupid to say when it mattered.”

Kody nods but he doesn’t respond.

“I just hope I’m not too late.”

My brain won’t quit. Flashes of Millie play like highlights on repeat. The first time she rolled her eyes at me and laughed when I teased her. The time she fell asleep on my chest and drooled just a little. It was adorable. Especially when she woke up mortified and tried to pretend, she hadn’t. The way her hands move when she baked.

Methodical, gentle, patient.

I miss her hands.

I miss everything. Her scent. Her sarcasm. The way she lights up when she talks about that shop of hers.

I miss her.

And I was a fool to think I could keep my distance when the one place I feel at peace is next to her. I don’t care about the press. I don’t care about my manager or the next fight or whatever career strategy they’re cooking up. None of it matters if I lose the one person who makes me feel like more than just a brand.

A man.

Her man.

My chest aches. I press the heel of my palm against it like I can will the pain away.

The road curves and the soft glow of gas station and city lights creep back into view.

“We’re almost there,” He points ahead as the faded neon sign of the bar flickers into view. CONNERS. “The “N” is still busted, blinking like a dying lightbulb.”

The closer we get, the more my nerves catch fire. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“How about, Hi. I’m sorry I let my pride mess everything up. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you when I had the chance before you walked out of the gym the other night. But I’m here now, and if there’s any part of you that still wants me, I’m yours.”

I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he says, pulling into the lot. “But you love me anyway.”

“That’s actually not bad.”

“This place? It’s horrible.” His nose wrinkles as if to punctuate his point. “I’d ruch rather have a find-Millie mission at Gus’s back in Oak Valley.”

I shake my head. “No. What you said. It’s not bad.”

“I highly recommend not saying that or taking any of my advice. I am chronically single, remember.”

We sit in silence for a moment, both of us staring at the front doors of the bar.

“You ready?” he asks, glancing over at me.

I nod slowly, my throat tight. “I’ve already waited too long.” I reach for the door handle.

“Hey, bro.”

“Yeah?” I ask, turning back as I lift the the handle to open the door.

He bobs his head from one side to the other. “Start with I’m sorry. That usually goes over better than “How you doin’”?”

That gets a real laugh out of me. Quick, sharp, a little unsteady. But real.

“Thanks,” I say, pushing the door open.

“For the ride or the pep talk?”

“Both.”

Kody hops out of the driver’s side and meets me at the front of the car. He slaps one hand on my back and nudges me forward. “Don’t half-ass it. Go in there and say what you mean and say all of it.”

“I thought you said don’t take your advice,” I snort, as we make our way across the parking lot toward the bar’s entrance.

He laughs and throws his head back. “Then don’t listen to me about that either. Trust me on this one.”

The beat of music pulses faintly from inside the bar, and I take a breath that barely fills my lungs as I reach out to open the door. Okay, Millie. I’m here. And I’m not leaving without giving you the truth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Millie

“Excuse me.”

The voice sounds familiar, but in my very-much-drunk state, everyone’s voice has started to sound familiar. Everyone’s been so friendly here. Ella was right, day drinking is exactly what I needed. Not just a break from the situation with Kellen, but from everything. From work, from life.

From myself.

I’ve put so much of me into making the bakery work that I forgot how to have fun. I’m still young. I deserve to let loose once in a while. When I get home, I’ve already promised everyone who’d listen that I’m hiring help at the shop. So, I can do things like this more often.

“I said move out of the goddamn way.” This time, the voice is right in front of me, gruff and close.

I lift my head, squinting as the room does this weird carousel spin.

Whoa.

Everything shifts. It takes a few long, painful blinks trying to force everything back into focus.

There’s a man in front of me. One of his arms is braced on the bar, boxing me in. I try to remember his name. I was talking to a guy earlier. I think? But I come up blank. Can’t remember what he said. Can’t even remember if I know his name, or not.

Then my eyes go higher.

My vision clears.

Kellen.

No. No, I must be hallucinating. I shake my head, blink again.

He’s still there.

Towering. Brooding. That ever-present storm in his eyes trained directly on someone standing between us.

“I said move,” he repeats, low and deadly.

The guy hesitates for a beat, until Kody steps in, shoving him aside with barely a flick of his arm.

“Who the hell do you think you think… Oh shit,” the guy stammers as he catches a full look at Kellen. “Is it really you? Kellen? Kellen O’Brien?”

Kellen ignores him completely, sliding into the space between me and the bar. His presence floods my senses. His scent, the heat rolling off him.

Ugh.

No.

No.

NO.

This is not what was supposed to happen tonight.

I was not supposed to turn into a puddle the next time I saw him.

I was supposed to be forgetting about him.

“Yeah,” he says, voice razor-sharp. “Now how about giving my girlfriend some space?”

A collective gasp ripples through the bar like someone dropped a mic.

The whispers start immediately.

“Holy shit, that’s Kellen O’Brien.”

“He’s even hotter in person.”

I fucking know, right? It’s so annoying.

“Millie?”

I don’t answer. I just reach for my drink. I need to dull whatever this feeling is before I drown in it.

But before I can bring the glass to my lips, Kellen’s hand closes over mine. “You’ve had enough,” he says firmly.

I snatch my hand back and wipe it on my jeans. “What are you even doing here?” Wow. My words come out slurred but I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what I said.

“I came to talk to you.”

“Pick up the phone like a normal person, then.”

“I tried that,” he says, flashing me a sheepish smile. “You ignored me. And what I need to say… I need to say it in person.”

“Well, I don’t want to hear it. I’m having fun with my friends.” I wave my arm in the air like some kind of sparkly drunk fairy godmother, motioning to the bar. “Why is everyone is staring?”

Kellen frowns. “Do you even know any of these people?”

“Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet,” I slur, the words tangled and slippery on my tongue.

His jaw tightens.

“Are you jealous?” I lean forward, off-balance. My hand lands on his chest for support. His arms come up automatically, steadying me.

“Insanely so, Millie.”

I giggle. “That’s… that’s good, I guess. But—” My gaze catches on

Ella across the room. She’s watching, wide-eyed and standing next to his brother. “Wait.” I shake my head trying to clear the tequila fog. “Why are you here? How did you even find me?”

“I told you. I came to talk. How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk.” I hiccup, then hiccup again. “I’m just… very happy.”

“Sure, you are,” he mutters. “I think it’s time to take you home.”

“You do that.” I shove my palms against his chest, stumble back, and hit the bar. “Bye bye, Mr. Fighter Man. Good luck with… whatever.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Millie. Not when you’re like this.”

“Oh please,” I grumble.

“Would you just let me explain?”

“What’s there to explain? You tried to end things with me using an envelope full of cash.” I twist around and raise my voice. “Hey! Drinks on the famous Kellen O’Brien! He’s got money to throw around!”

A wild cheer erupts across the bar. People slap the counter, laughing and shouting.

Kellen doesn’t even blink.

“If you’ll excuse me—” I don’t get to finish. One second, I’m taking a seat at the bar. The next, I’m upside down, thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Hey! You can’t just… Kellen!” I protest, squirming and beating the sides of my fists against his enormous shoulders.

“You can be pissed at me tomorrow, but tonight we’re going home.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” My stomach lurches as he starts walking.

“Put me down! Ella, help! He’s kidnapping me!”

Ella’s right behind us and has my purse in her hand. “I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it,” she laughs and then Kody whispers something in her ear.

Ugh. “Do something! Help me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she says, laughing. “I’m on it, girl. Don’t worry.”

“Traitor.” Defeated, I slump against his shoulder. My hand covers my mouth as little burps bubble up my throat. Uh-oh.

Then the night air hits me.

“Kellen,” I gasp. “Put me dow—” I gag and cover my mouth with both hands. Too late. Bile rises up my throat and leaks between my fingers.

And down his back.

“Great,” he mutters, unfazed. His grip doesn’t loosen. A car chirps as he unlocks it and yanks the back door open. I blink at the shiny red paint as he sits me gently on the bench seat.

“This isn’t yours,” I mumble.

“No. It’s Kody’s.”

I lean forward and puke again, right onto the floor.

Kellen doesn’t flinch. He just brushes my hair back gently, waits for me to finish, and finally says, “He’s going to be so happy that it’s full of drunk girl vomit.” He closes the door and jogs around to the other side and slides into the backseat with me.

“Oh, come on!” Kody groans dramatically, walking up and seeing the carnage.

“Be grateful she didn’t aim at you,” Ella says sweetly, handing my bag over to Kellen.

“She still might,” Kody mutters.

“Are the O’Brien brothers always this dramatic?” Ella asks as she hops into the passenger side seat as Kody climbs in and settles in behind the wheel.

He grins. “Only when it’s worth it.”

“I’ll take that as a warning.”

“Or a promise,” he says with a wink as the car’s engine roars to life.

“Buckle up.”

“Only if you say please.”

He lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for good manners.”

Kody rolls his eyes, but there’s a little smile tugging at his mouth.

“Please.”

The brothers exchange glances in the rearview but I’m too queasy to care.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kellen

“Millie?”

She blinks up at me sleepily from her place on the bed. She’s wasted, and I hate it. Grumbling, she props herself up a little. It takes some effort on her part, since her arms don’t seem to want to cooperate. I should just let her sleep it off, but I have to tell her before she passes out for the night. Even if she doesn’t remember anything in the morning, it’s important to me that I say what I need to say then I can tell her again tomorrow.

I crawl onto the bed and turn on my side to face her. “Millie?”

“Mhmm,” she mumbles sleepily and turns her head toward me.

I reach out and tuck her long stray hair behind her ear. She needs a shower to wash the vomit off, but I don’t trust her to stand long enough not to fall and crack her head open. And I really don’t trust myself not to climb in there with her. I don’t want to take advantage of her. Taking her clothes off tonight would cross a line, especially since she told me off the last time we talked. “You really scared me tonight.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it. Anything could’ve happened with those assholes at the bar. It’s reckless to put yourself in that kind of danger.”

“Wasn’t in any danger,” she grumbles. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I care,” I say quietly. “I care a lot, actually.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” She hiccups again. “I mean, you dumped me through your toupee wearing manager.”

“I did not do that.”

She lets out a little sarcastic laugh. “Oh, sorry. My bad. You just said you weren’t in a relationship at all on live television.”

I groan. “I didn’t say that either. Brock did.” I know she’s not going to make it easy for me, but I thought she’d at least hear me out.

“Millie?”

She sits up so fast she sways, then shoves at me with both hands, trying to push me off the bed. Her hands are small and unsteady, so it barely makes me move. “You can go now. Keep your money and—”

I tighten my arms around her, not letting her push me away. She squirms for a second, her fists weak against my skin, then slowly she melts into my hold. Her cheek presses against my chest, warm and damp with sweat and tears. Her breath hitches. I could hold her like this forever. I want to show her exactly what she means to me.

But I don’t.

I keep still, because she’s not sober. Because she deserves to be loved without a single question of motive.

It’s killing me to hold back.

Her breathing evens out a little more, and I feel her thumb graze against my ribs. A soft touch, unintentional maybe, but it makes my whole body go still.

“I never did any of that, Millie,” I whisper. “That was Brock. And he’s been told to never interfere in my private life again.”

I want to kiss her. It’s not even the smell of vomit stopping me, it’s the fear she’ll push me away. That she’ll tell me never to touch her again. That she’ll think I’m just taking advantage of her since she’s drunk. I’ve never been unsure of myself around a woman before. Not ever.

But this is different.

Kody’s right.

I’m in love with her.

That thought alone terrifies me.

“You have to know how I feel about you, Millie.”

“You smell different now,” she says, not answering me at all. But did I really expect her to? “You smelled like sweat before,” she mumbles, nuzzling closer. “It kinda made me want to lick you.”

I laugh despite everything. “I had to use your shower.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because a drunk girl puked down my back a little while ago.”

“Oh.”

“And, by the way…”

“Yeah?”

“You can lick me anytime and anywhere you want, Millie.”

“Oh, is that right?” she says, trying to sit up again, squinting at my face.

I pull her right back down against me. “Yes. But not tonight. Tonight, you need to sleep off this drunken haze.”

“No fair,” she pouts against my chest, and I shiver at the feel of her lips. She’s not even kissing me and still, I react to her like she owns every epart of me.

“Totally fair. You’re in no shape to know what you’re doing, and I’m not going to take advantage of you. So, let’s just lay here and talk until you fall asleep.”

“I am sleepy,” she admits. “But why do you smell different?”

“I just… I just told you.”

“You did?”

I nod, slowly. “I took a shower.”

“You showered here?”

For fuck’s sake.

“I stink.” She sniffs loudly.

“Yeah, you do. But you can clean up after you sober up.”

“Okay,” she murmurs. Her voice is soft and low now. She’s already slipping. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“I’d do anything for you, Millie.” I press my lips to her hair and sigh.

It doesn’t matter that she smells like puke and stale alcohol.

Underneath that, she still smells like her.

Millie.

My Millie.

“And I mean that.”

I glance around the room. I’ve been in here a dozen times or more since we met, but I’ve never really looked. She’s everywhere. In the pillows, the candles, the little feminine touches that make this place her. I should feel out of place here. But I don’t.

I feel like I’m home.

Though maybe it’s not the room. Maybe it’s the woman in my arms.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I’ll always be here when you need me. Though I think I might need you more than you need me.” The words sit in the quiet like a confession to the dark. I let out a breath. It feels good, like something heavy has finally been lifted off my chest. “Millie?”

A soft snore answers me.

Great.

I settle deeper into the pillows and close my eyes.

I finally worked up the courage to tell her how I feel and she fell asleep before I could get the words out.

I stare at the ceiling in the dark. My chest is tight and my head’s a mess. I’ve said it now. The words that have been chewing a hole in my ribs for weeks.

I love you.

It sounds so small compared to what I actually feel. The kind of ache I get when she walks into a room, when she laughs at one of my stupid jokes, when she reaches for me without even thinking. I’ve never had this before. I’ve had girls. I’ve had flings. I’ve had that shallow brand of connection that burns hot and dies fast. But this?

This is different.

God, if she doesn’t feel the same way…

No.

No, I won’t think about that now.

I glance down at her, sleeping so soft and heavy against me. I can’t let her slip away again.

I love her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Millie

My head hurts, and I want to die.

Lifting my face to the shower, I let the hot needles of water hit my skin. I thought a shower would make me feel better but in reality, it’s just making me feel worse. Hastily soaping myself up, I rinse off and reach for a towel.

Ever since I woke up alone in my sick-covered clothes, I’ve been trying to piece together what the hell happened. I vaguely remember Kellen being at the bar for some reason, and I think I remember falling asleep in his arms. But I can’t be sure if that was real or just some drunken dream. I hope it wasn’t some rando from the bar and I just pretended it was Kellen.

Please, no.

I wrap the towel around my body as my stomach growls. When I step into the kitchen, I stop dead. There’s a glass of water, a pod of ginger tea next to my favorite coffee mug and a single pink flower on the counter.

What the hell?

I approach the counter slowly like something might jump up and bite me, I reach for the folded note and open it.

Drink the juice and recover. Your body needs it. I had to take Kody’s car to the detailer’s but didn’t want to wake you then I have an interview with a local station. I’ll see you when I get back.

It’s signed with his name and a hastily drawn heart.

Letting the paper flutter from my fingers to the counter, I reach for the glass and down it in one go. So, it wasn’t a dream.

Kellen had really been here.

He came to the bar to get me. He laid next to me when I was covered in my own vomit. No wonder he left. I chuckle to myself at the thought.

Who would want to stick around for that?

Flopping onto the sofa, I clutch the towel tighter around me and reach for my phone, which somehow ended up on the side table. I open the latest message notification. It’s from Ella.

Call me.

Without hesitation, I do. She answers on the third ring, excitement in her voice. No trace of the hangover like the one currently trying to split my skull open.

“Where have you been?” she says instead of hello. “I’ve been calling for hours.”

Sighing, I lean back and close my eyes. “I was in bed. I feel like I got run over by a truck. This hangover is brutal.”

She giggles, which makes my headache worse. “Are you sure it was just the tequila that kept you up all night?”

“I don’t actually know anything other than Kellen was here last night.”

“Oh, honey. That’s already all over the internet. The whole world knows about that.”

“What?”

“Yep,” she says, laughing. “They got him coming out of your house this morning in one of your pink t-shirts. I have to admit it looks good on him. The tightness of it makes his muscles look so damn good.”

I bolt upright. “What do you mean? What shirt?”

“One of your bakery ones. The internet is blowing up.” She hesitates. “How do you know nothing about this, Millie?”

“I was asleep,” I remind her, already putting her on speaker as I scroll. It doesn’t take long to find it. It’s everywhere. Kellen in all his tanned, muscled glory, hair ruffled and an adorable sleepy look on his face, leaving my house with his broad chest barely covered by one of my Sweet Muffin t-shirts.

“I’d say it’s pretty official, wouldn’t you?”

I blink at the screen. “I don’t understand. What’s official?”

“That you’re his girlfriend. Did you not even look at the comments?

Everyone’s wondering who this mystery woman is that’s got the bad boy of MMA all tied up in knots and he responded from his verified account saying, “My girlfriend.”

“I’m so confused. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“He made it social-media-official.”

I swallow hard, trying to digest the words. I barely remember last night. Little snippets. Maybe something about his manager, going behind his back. Maybe even something about Kellen being in love with me. But that has to be my imagination. “We haven’t even discussed it.”

“Well, he seems to think it’s a done deal. And honestly, girl, are you really going to turn down Kellen O’Brien? He’s a dreamboat with whipped cream on top.”

My fingers curl tighter around the phone.

Am I?

Do I want to?

I rub my face, the towel loosening around my chest. “He means something to me, Ella. More than I want to admit. But this… this is fast. I don’t know if we’re even okay after what happened. Last night was messy. I don’t want to just slide into being his girlfriend because the press says so.”

“But isn’t that what you want? For it to be real and him to commit publicly?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “But I want it to be because we talked about it. Because we’re choosing it together.”

“Then talk to him.”

“He already left.” I mumble.

“Is he coming back?”

“The note he left says he is.”

“Then just talk to him when he gets back.”

That’s a good idea.

“I can’t believe you slept through an entire day, though. You’ve turned into a proper grandma.” Ella laughs, and I ignore her.

“If I talk to his brother and find out where he is to surprise him… do you think he’d hate it?”

“I think he’ll love it. But text me, okay? I want to know everything.”

I end the call quickly and rush to my bedroom. I fling open the closet and start rifling through clothes. I need something cute but practical. Throwing on jeans and a floral blouse, I take a breath. Excitement slams into my chest, tight and loud. Fluffing my still-wet hair with my fingers, I glance at my reflection. I look like hell. My face is void of any color. I’m gray. Like Bella Swan gray, no color in my cheeks, dark circles under my eyes. Doesn’t matter. I grab my keys from the hook in the entry way and rush outside, my bare feet hitting the sidewalk. I wince. “Shoes, you dimwit. You need shoes,”

I mutter, turning back to the door. I’ve just slipped the key in when I hear someone behind me. Stepping up way too close. The night I was mugged flashes through me like a nightmare. There it is, again. That icy grip around my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

But hot on its heels comes anger.

I will not be a victim again. Especially not today. I don’t have time to waste. The sooner I get to the gym, the sooner I can talk Kody into telling me where Kellen is. I’ll drive all night if I have to. I just need to see him face to face.

Getting attacked outside my front door is not on tonight’s to-do list but if it’s happening, then fine. I’m not going down without a fight. “Not tonight, you asshole,” I growl, and slam my elbow back, just like Kody and his team taught me in those self-defense classes.

There’s a humph as I knock the wind out of my attacker—and I don’t stop. I bring my fist up with everything I’ve got. Something cracks, and warm liquid gushes over my knuckles. “I do not have time for this.” I whirl around, keys clenched tight in my hand like a weapon, ready for whatever this dickhead wants to bring next.

He’s flat on his back, one hand to his bloody nose, familiar dark eyes staring up at me in shock.

“Kellen?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kellen

I stare at her from my spot on the sidewalk, the flowers I brought lying forgotten beside me. Blood drips from my nose, but all I can do is laugh as I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

“Kellen!” she cries again, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. “I didn’t know it was you! I swear! I thought…”

Yeah. I know what she thought. She assumed it was some attacker behind her. And she acted exactly how she should have.

Pride swells in my chest.

“I should call my brother and tell him his classes paid off.” Better yet, I want to tell her what a good girl she is. How proud I am. Then kiss her until neither of us can breathe. My gaze travels down her body and I frown when I notice her bare feet. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking the question, but her expression is frozen in pure panic. She looks horrified by what she’s done. I’m not, though. Not even a little.

I’m so damn proud of her.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes.

I cut her off, holding out my hand. “Help me up.” I don’t need help. I just want her hand in mine. She reaches for me immediately, her small fingers curling around mine. I surge up and close the space between us, pressing her gently against the door.

“I honestly didn’t know it was you,” she says, breathless. “I thought I was being mugged or something.”

“I know, Millie. I should’ve said something, but I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t expect to get taken down.”

She stares at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“The press would have a field day. Undefeated champ knocked on his ass by his girlfriend.”

Her eyes meet mine.

Good, I’ve got her attention. I laugh, then grin. “At least I’m not in one of your very small T-shirts this time, right?”

“From what I saw it was more like a crop top.”

“Honestly, it was way better than being caught on camera with puke down my back. And it gave the shop quite a bit of publicity. When I drove by earlier the line was out the door. Emily’s probably going to need some backup. You might want to hire some more staff soon.”

“Really?”

I nod.

Her eyes go wide. “At least I didn’t knock you out. Just… ” She glances at the pavement again, sheepishly. “Down.”

“You did good.” I reach out with one finger to lift her chin so her eyes meet mine.

“Yeah?” she asks, glancing up at me again.

“Yeah.” I pause then nod toward the door. “Can I come in? I need to lean myself up a little after that punch.”

Her cheeks turn crimson. “Of course,” she stammers, fumbling with her keys as she unlocks the door. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

She’s rambling as she shuffles down the hallway toward the bathroom and it’s adorable. I follow her in, shutting the door behind me and watching her every move as she returns with the first-aid kit.

“So,” I say, dropping into a chair, “where were you headed in such a hurry you forgot your shoes?”

She freezes. Her back goes straight, and the cloth in her hand drips water onto the floor. “Well, I was…”

I reach for her, pulling her into my lap, the damp cloth and all. She straddles me awkwardly as I rub slow circles on her back, trying to calm the nerves practically radiating off her. “You were… what?”

“I was on my way to find Kody.”

I wrap my hand around her wrist to still her. “My brother?” I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”

She laughs, that soft giggle lighting up her whole face. “No, of course not. I wanted to know where you were. I was going to surprise you.”

A smile breaks across my face. “Funny, I put a few things on hold to surprise you too.”

I brush a strand of damp hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. “But I guess you won this round, Millie. I never expected you to full-on attack me.” I chuckle, and she turns even redder. “I don’t mind, by the way.”

“You don’t mind that I probably broke your nose?” she asks, skeptical.

I shake my head and pull her more snugly onto my lap. Big mistake. She’s warm and soft and so close my brain completely short-circuits. I’m not thinking about cleaning up or sorting things out anymore. I’m thinking about her. All of her. And how badly I want her. “Not even a little. If I’m gonna lose to someone, I want it to be you.” I lower my voice. “I’ll never mind losing to you. Millie…” I wait until her eyes lift to mine. “You’re still my girlfriend, right? We’re okay?”

Her hand flutters to her throat. “Kellen…”

“Millie?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I don’t want to just be your boyfriend anymore?” The words fall out of my mouth the second I think them.

She leans back and lets her eyes meet mine. “What are you saying, Kellen?”

I look at her for a long moment. Hair still damp. A smear of dried blood from my nose on her fingers from where she’d been cleaning me up. The most real thing that has ever happened to me, sitting in front of me. “I’m not asking yet.” My thumb traces her jaw. “But I want you to know that one day—when you’re ready, and when I find something worthy of your hand—I’m going to ask you to be more than just my girlfriend.” I hold her gaze.

“And I’m telling you now so that when that day comes, you know it’s been coming for a long time and you won’t doubt that I mean it.”

She’s quiet for a moment that feels like it lasts a hundred years. Then the corner of her mouth curves. “That’s…” She exhales a soft laugh. “That’s either the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, gor the most terrifying.”

“I prefer romantic.” I grin. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

She opens her mouth to respond but I cut her off with a kiss. Gentle at first, a brush of lips meant to soothe, not scare her away. But the moment her mouth parts under mine, the tenderness shifts. Grows hotter. Wilder. I groan and cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss as her still damp hair spills over my arm.

Our tongues tangle, bodies melting into each other, and I can’t stop the way my hands roam over her body, up her side, over her ribs, until they reach the soft swell of her breast.

When I pull back, her pupils are blown wide open, her lips parted and bright red.

“You know I had nothing to do with Brock’s stunt, right? You believe me?”

She nods, and something in my chest finally settles.

“Good.” I brush my thumb along her jaw. “Then there’s nothing left in the way? You’re my girl?”

She throws her head back and laughs, that warm, full sound I’ve been missing like a physical ache.

“Yes, Kellen,” she says softly, her fingers curling into my shirt. “I’m yours. I think I always have been.” Her eyes meet mine, clear and certain and everything I’ve been fighting toward. “And for the record,” the corner of her mouth tilts up “when that day comes, I’ll say yes.”

I laugh. Low and real and more relieved than I’ve felt in years. “I’m a lucky man,” I murmur, and pull her back in.

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