Saving My Soul: A Second Chance MMA Romance (Second Chance Chicago Series Book 3)

by Gina Azzi

  Running. Conditioning. Sparring. I’ve done it all today, and still my thoughts blare like a foghorn in my head.

  Pop’s rough night, followed by an even more tumultuous morning. Bills piling up I can’t afford to pay. A meeting with my partner that ended with him squeezing my shoulder sympathetically but forcing me to swallow the hard truth. Cyanide MMA will be done come the new year if I don’t come up with a big idea. A fresh vision. And really fucking fast.

  Harlow.

  Her face last night, the moonlight rippling over her expression, giving me a peek at the woman behind the perfect persona.

  Her lips pressed against mine. Sweet. Sensual. Soulful.

  “Connor?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts and I jump away from the bag, my gaze swinging to hers.

  “Hey.” I drop my hands to my sides and step toward her. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

  “No worries, I’m early.” She slips her hands into the back pockets of her tiny, too goddamn short cut-offs and rocks back on her heels. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her ability to read me unsettles me. For years, I’ve been a master at concealing my thoughts. My poker face has been impenetrable for so long, I sometimes wonder if people assume I’m not thinking anything at all. But Harlow has always been able to see below the surface. In the past, she hesitated to call me out on anything, from even asking what I’m thinking, because she didn’t want to rock the boat. She knew, as well as I did, that things between us were fragile, temporary, moments to be seized and enjoyed, not wasted away with complications.

  But it’s different now. She’s here. I’m here. And we’re… us.

  “Just had a shit day,” I answer honestly.

  “I’m sorry, babe.” The words come out of her mouth easily and she winces on the term of endearment, her cheeks reddening. “I brought you dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yeah, have you eaten?”

  I shake my head, an unfamiliar feeling expanding in my chest. It’s been a long time since anyone besides Pop looked out for me. Since anyone’s thoughtfulness surprised me.

  “Okay, well, I got Thai.”

  “I love Thai.” I brighten, hoping she got Pad Thai.

  “I know.” She shuffles toward the front entrance. “It’s at the front desk. I thought we could eat before we start the hunt.”

  “Sure.” I catch up to her, reaching out to touch her wrist. “Thank you, Harlow. You didn’t have to bring me food.”

  “Shut up,” she laughs. “Besides, how do you know it’s not a ploy to spend time with you?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  She shrugs, tossing me a playful wink. “You have to eat, Connor. Don’t make me Mother Hen you.”

  Chuckling, I hook my arm around her neck and pull her into my side. “You, Mother Hen? I remember a certain dinner party that —”

  “Oh, shut it.” Harlow giggles, pinching my ribs. “The oven timer was faulty!”

  “Oh yeah. It had nothing to do with setting it for an hour longer than necessary.”

  She laughs, her fingers catching on my shirt. “Be grateful I didn’t try and cook you anything.”

  “Trust me, I am.”

  Checking me with her hip, she points to the brown paper takeout bags on the front desk.

  I flip my chin at Jay, the guy manning the desk. “You hungry?”

  He shakes his head, smirking at me. “I’m good, man. Enjoy your…dinner.”

  Brushing off his innuendo, I gesture to Harlow to follow me. “We’ll eat in my office.”

  “You have an office? So fancy.”

  “It’s more like a closet, but thanks for the compliment.”

  I hear her walking behind me and can’t stop the smile from splitting my face. My day has been shit, but in only moments in Harlow’s company, the list of problems has quieted. She’s blocked out the noise more effectively than boxing.

  The realization stops me in my tracks.

  For as long as I can remember, fighting has been my go-to. The one constant in my life that never left me, never even faltered, when everything else was falling apart.

  Is that what it’s like when you find the right person? Do they heal your soul enough for everything else to seem inconsequential?

  Harlow slams into my back. “Oof,” she wheezes, her fingers gripping the back of my shirt.

  Spinning around, I wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. “Sorry.”

  “A head’s up would have been nice,” she teases, her eyes glittering when they meet mine.

  “You keep throwing me off balance,” I joke, jostling her in front of me until we reach my office door.

  When we enter the small room, I drop the takeout bags on the desk and clear off a chair for Harlow to sit on. She takes the containers out of the bag and lays them neatly on my desk before taking a seat.

  She passes me a fork. “I got you Pad Thai.”

  With every word she utters, the darkness of the day lifts, letting more light in. “Thanks.” I pick up the container, lean back on my desk, cross my ankles and dig in. “This is really good,” I say between bites.

  “I’m glad you approve. I had to ask Zoe for a recommendation since I don’t know any places yet.”

  “You will. Have you made a list of what type of apartment you want? What area you want to be in? Anything about your preferences?”

  Harlow tucks her legs beneath her on the chair so she’s sitting cross-legged. She sits up straighter, her fork paused between the takeout container and her mouth. “Yes. I’d like to be near an L stop. I know it’s summer, but I’m enjoying not having to drive everywhere.”

  “You’ll want a car come winter.”

  “That’s what Eli said. I’m going to bring my car out here before then, but I’d still like the convenience of public transportation. Walkability is super important to me. I’d love to be more in the action, less in the suburbs. I’m not hung up on space since it’s just me.”

  “Okay.” I chew my bite. “So you want to be downtown? On the Blue or Red line?”

  “Basically.”

  I pull my cell out of my desk drawer and scroll through the contacts I hit up earlier to see about renting Harlow a place. One of the perks of owning a gym is that I connect with people from all walks of life. That means when I need something, I generally have an idea of where to start or who to contact for more information. This is one of those times.

  “My boy Troy will have a pulse on the area, what’s available, and get you a fair price.”

  Harlow leans forward. “Perfect.”

  “Hey, Troy,” I say as soon as he picks up. After a three-minute conversation, I hang up.

  “So?”

  “He’s got three places to show you. We’ll meet him in about forty minutes.”

  “Yay!” Harlow pumps her fist in the air. “I’m so excited.”

  I toss my phone on the desk and cut her a glance. “You sure about this?”

  Her eyes connect with mine. “I really am. I need a change. A lot of changes if I’m being honest. This seems like a step in the right direction.”

  “Have you heard from Golden Boy?” I blurt out, not caring if I’m shifting the conversation or being too forward. Harlow’s been in town for almost two weeks and the fuckface hasn’t even shown up to win her back. While I’m relieved that he’s backed down, I’m also enraged that he played Harlow like this.

  “Uh,” she groans, closing up the container and placing it on the corner of my desk. “He’s been blowing up my phone like crazy, but the two times I was dumb enough to answer, he didn’t offer anything. Just empty apologies and stupid questions.”

  “Questions?”

  “Yeah. He wants to know when I’m coming home. What color dress I’m wearing to his premiere. If my stepdad wants us to work things out. He doesn’t seem to care that we’re not a couple anymore, he’s just worried what he should tell people about our breakup. He even asked me if I’d do him a solid and com
e to his premiere just so he doesn’t have to go through the trouble of coordinating with someone else.” She rolls her eyes but I see the color blotching her cheeks. She’s hurt. This punk just keeps injuring her. The worst thing is, he doesn’t care.

  I place down my takeout. “Look, I know this is hard for you. I know having your life dragged through the media is shitty.”

  “I’ve been staying offline. The tweets and comments have been too hurtful to read.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She scoffs. “There are a few that call Bryce out for cheating. But most of them just say how he’s too good for me, too talented, hotter. That I was out of my league, that I was weighing him down, that I’m a talentless hang-around who got what I deserved for thinking I could be on his level. That type of thing.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I spit out, fury rushing through my veins before Harlow finishes speaking. I’m practically vibrating with anger even though I know it’s stupid. Futile. People are always going to talk. There will always be haters. But when that misguided judgement is directed toward Harlow, it affects me a hell of a lot more than when it’s directed at someone else. “You know that’s all lies, right?”

  Harlow shrugs. “I’m just staying off social media.”

  “You’re too good for him, Harlow. You’re better off without him.” I tap my sneaker against her sandal until she looks at me. “You know that, right?”

  “All I know is that I’m ready for a fresh start. I’m ready to put some roots down and right now, I’m grateful it’s Chicago.”

  “Okay.”

  I know whatever I say to try to make her understand her value, her worth, will fall on deaf ears. Not because she doesn’t believe me, but because her heart is still too raw, the wounds Bryce inflicted too fresh.

  Turning away, I pack up our leftovers and pass her the paper bag. “Give me ten minutes? I need to shower and change and then we’ll go meet Troy.”

  “Take your time. And thank you, Connor. I don’t know how I’d be managing all of this without you.”

  At the break in her voice I know she means more than just finding a place. In some way, my presence is bringing her comfort during one of the darkest times of her life. Her admission squeezes my chest with hurt for her but also sparks a ripple of satisfaction.

  I like being here for Harlow. A hell of a lot more than I should.

  7

  Harlow

  “This place is perfect!” Zoe twirls in a circle, clapping her hands as Maddie runs around the empty space.

  “It’s barely a thousand square feet,” I point out.

  “Pssh. You should have seen the studio I used to live in. It could fit in your closet.”

  “Mama lived in a closet!” Maddie shrieks, racing to check out the closet in my bedroom.

  “I need to buy furniture.” I take in the space. “But then, I really think I can make this home.”

  “Are you shipping anything out from L.A.?”

  “My brother just mailed me some boxes of clothing that I’m waiting on. I’ll pack up some stuff, personal touches and whatnot, when I’m home for the premiere. But no furniture.”

  Zoe wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so excited you’re moving here. I missed having a girlfriend.”

  “You think Charlie will stay in New York?” I ask, remembering that Zoe’s bestie Charlie is interning in New York until December.

  “Ah, I don’t know. The experience is good for her. She needed to spread her wings a bit and have something that was all hers. She’s really happy there.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. I hope she decides to come back to Chicago. I wouldn’t blame her if she stayed. New York is definitely the place to be for design but I just… miss her.” She glances around my space again before smiling at me. “But I’m really happy you’re here!”

  “Me too.” I drop my head to Zoe’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good.” She places a hand on her belly. “Much calmer than my last pregnancy. More tired trying to keep up with the Energizer bunny,” she adds as Maddie swoops back in the room.

  “Auntie Harlow! I can sleep in your closet when I come for slumber parties.”

  Laughing, I pick Maddie up and twirl her around. “You can sleep in my bed when you come for slumber parties. As soon as I have a bed, you want to sleep over?”

  Her eyes widen and she nods seriously. “Oh yes, I’d love that. We can do nails and play with make-up.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Zoe who shrugs, helpless to the charms and energy of her daughter.

  “I’m in, Maddie. We’ll have a spa date.”

  “Yay!” Maddie cheers as I place her back on her feet and she continues to zoom around.

  “Home sweet home,” I murmur, walking to the large windows in the living room that overlook downtown Chicago.

  Fighting down the swell of uncertainty that balloons in my belly, I remind myself that this move is what I need.

  L.A. was draining my spirit.

  Bryce broke my heart.

  My “career” was almost as empty as the air the Boeing 747 flew through with random guys and insecure women having sex in tiny bathrooms, drunk out of their minds.

  Yeah, this is the change I need.

  But knowing I’m starting over again, at nearly thirty, when I should be settling down with my own sweet baby swelling in my stomach, aches.

  I yearn for a time when I won’t need another change. A new move. A different career path. I’m tired of searching for the consistency, the balance, the stability I’ve never had and always wished for.

  One day, I hope for the calm that Zoe embraces, the certainty that Eli exudes, the contentment of their growing family.

  “You should order a bed.” Zoe cuts through my thoughts.

  I face her. “And a couch.”

  “Plates would be good.”

  “Alright. Let’s get going.” I slide my purse higher on my shoulder. “I need you to drive me since I’m carless.”

  “Yeah, what’s that about? Why don’t you get a car?”

  Shrugging, I admit, “Trying something new. I want to be out in the world, among people. Not shuffling around in a car.”

  “Remember those words when winter hits.”

  “That’s what Connor said.”

  “Because he knows.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll bring my car out before then.”

  “Okay. You better soak up your people watching and bustling around now. Where to?” she asks, pulling her keys out of her purse.

  “Target,” I say like it’s obvious.

  Zoe winces. “With Maddie, this is going to be an all afternoon thing.”

  “Got someplace else to be?” I quirk an eyebrow, knowing she cut her personal training hours at Connor’s gym and is taking a leave from teaching her self-defense class since learning of her pregnancy.

  “Nope,” she admits, her voice popping on the “p.”

  “Let’s go. Maddie girl, we’re going to Target!”

  My little munchkin comes running back into the room. “I love Target!”

  “I know.” I pick her up and follow Zoe out of my apartment.

  Locking up behind me, some of the weight I’ve been carrying around releases as I take one more step into my new life.

  I’ve been settling into my new life for nearly ten days when it happens.

  The breakdown. The awareness. The staring into the abyss of the great unknown, unsure if I’m petrified of taking a leap of faith or staying right where I am.

  Over the past two weeks, Eli, my brother Jack, acquaintances from L.A. have all commented on how well I’m handling everything. As if my catastrophic life collapse could be “handled” the way one takes out the trash. Dumped and forgotten about.

  But the truth is, my turbulent emotions have been bubbling just below the surface. Beneath every grin is a sob I’m swallowing, after every blasé quip is a truth I’m ignoring.

  On my
twenty-third day in Chicago, Bryce’s handsome face smirks from magazine covers. He’s been nominated for some award. But that’s not what stops me in my tracks. It’s the woman next to him.

  Anna Keaton.

  My fucking friend.

  In the photos, which I devour like Skittles, Bryce and Anna are holding hands. Laughing. Embracing passionately. And then, there it is, kissing.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Tears well in my eyes as I purchase the magazine and jog two blocks home, the balmy breeze drying my tears as they fall. Once I’m back in my new apartment, I look at the vacant space. Save for a mattress on my bedroom floor, none of my new furniture has arrived yet.

  And I feel it again. The sharp pang. The acute ache.

  Loneliness. Hurt. The awareness that I’m never truly enough.

  I wasn’t enough for Connor two years ago. My love wasn’t enough for Bryce not to stray. My friendship wasn’t enough for Anna not to break girl-code.

  Sliding down to my kitchen floor, my back resting against the refrigerator with it’s reassuring hum, I hug my knees to my chest and let my tears fall freely.

  A knock on my door interrupts my pity party. I’m not sure if five minutes or five hours have passed but I know that I need to get off the kitchen floor.

  I drag myself up to standing and rub my hands over my face.

  When I glance out the living room windows, night has fallen.

  My stomach grumbles. “Jesus,” I mutter to myself as the knock raps again.

  I blow out a breath and try to smile for Zoe’s sake. Of course she would come to check on me after Bryce’s new hook-up caused a media frenzy.

  Pulling open the front door, I say, “I’m really fine Zo—”

  “No, you’re not,” Connor responds, blocking the entire doorframe. His hands are braced on either side of the door and he leans forward, his upper body half inside my apartment as he dismisses my claim. “But you will be.”

  I falter back in surprise. Connor dips to pick up several takeout bags on the floor and enters my apartment like he’s a normal fixture in it. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he comments, dropping the bags on the kitchen island.