“What?” I ask having missed what she said because every cell in my body was screaming, “Higher! Move her hand higher!” because the only time I can get out of my own depressed head for a few minutes is when I’m inside a woman. After Camilla and I split, I started going out and screwing every beautiful woman who looked my way. My ego needed to hear their moans when they came, proving that I’m not just generous in the sack but I’m a fucking amazing lover! Just not amazing enough to keep the woman I married…
As if I wasn’t already depressed going to my boring job I dreaded each day, Camilla had to pile on a heap of insecurities.
The reminder of her is thankfully enough to make my cock behave, which is the only time it’s come in handy. Cassidy has been my friend for twenty years. I can’t use her just to stop all the self-doubts constantly swirling around in my head when she’s the one person who I’ve always been able to count on to be there for me. She’s the keeper of my secrets and partner in crime. My no questions asked ride or die.
“Just relax and close your eyes,” Cass repeats when she removes her hand from my knee.
“Okay,” I agree with a sigh, giving in and shutting my eyes tight.
“Now,” she starts. “Imagine you only have one month to live.” When I crack one eye open at her in question, she slaps her palm over my eyes and says, “You only have one month to live, Xavier Malone. You have a terminal case of chronic arrogantitis –”
“Chronic arrogantitis?” I repeat with a chuckle.
“Yes. It’s going to kill you very, very soon, so you have to spend your last days wisely because they’re all you’re going to get in this lifetime.”
“That sucks,” I mutter.
“It does,” Cass agrees. “This is the chance for you to make amends, to try and change any regrets, to do whatever the hell you want, when you want it.”
“Sounds good to me,” I agree.
“Damn right. You have an endless amount of money from the arrogantitis make a wish fund, so the sky is the limit.”
“Kind of fucked up to give me an endless amount of money when there are sick kids in the world,” I point out.
“Fine,” Cass says with a huff. “You have a Benjamin Button form of arrogantitis that makes you eighteen again! Jesus. This disease makes you very difficult, more so than usual.”
“Sorry,” I tell her with a grin.
“So, you’re eighteen with a month to live, what are you going to do? How do you see yourself spending your final days on earth so that you leave it with no regrets?”
Instantly, I see my younger self with nothing to lose standing in the middle of a six-foot high circular fence cage. My gloved fists are raised in the air as a sold-out crowd cheers and shouts my name after I knocked a man even bigger than me out with a single hit. Lights from cameras flash as my family comes into the cage to congratulate me, along with Cass, who I pick up and swing around in celebration before covering her lips for a kiss that’s so hot the television cameras have to go to a commercial break.
“Well, what do you see?” the imaginary Cass in my arms asks.
“You.”
“Me?” she exclaims and pulls away from my grip. That’s when the real Cass removes her hand from my eyes, and I open them to find her blinking at me in confusion from just inches away.
“You…you don’t want to know the crazy shit that goes on in my head,” I assure her and cover up my slip at the same time. “It’s all pretty ridiculous.”
“Oh, come on, you can tell me!” she says when she flops back to her side of the sofa and slaps me with the throw pillow again. “It doesn’t matter if it’s ridiculous. You’re running out of time, remember? Death is on your doorstep.”
“Right,” I say and finally admit the truth. “I won a fight.”
“A fight?” she asks with her brow furrowing in confusion. “Who were you fighting and why?”
“I don’t know who he was, but I beat him in front of a huge crowd.”
“Oh,” Cass says, her green eyes brightening in understanding. “You mean like a cage fight?”
“Yeah, like that,” I reply. “Stupid, right?”
Her face immediately falls like I just ran over her puppy. “You regret not taking the same path as your father and uncle.”
“What? No, I don’t regret it. My dad and Uncle Jude are fucking IFC legends. There would’ve been all these high expectations put on me, and I would’ve just embarrassed myself and my family when I sucked and lost every fight.”
“You won every fight in college.”
“Those were just for amateurs,” I point out.
“What was your record?” Cass asks.
“Seven and oh,” I answer.
“You never lost a fight? That’s pretty incredible, Xavier.”
“I was just screwing around with some other college kids. Most were wrestlers who wanted to make some quick cash by throwing punches too.”
“If you could go back in time, would you train to fight instead of going to college?” she asks.
“I honestly don’t know,” I tell her. “Probably not. Too much pressure and hype. I don’t know how Macy handles it.”
“She’s a woman, Jackson Malone’s daughter, so there’s not as much attention on her as there would be on his only son.”
“Macy is a badass,” I reply.
“Yeah, she is,” Cass agrees because her and my sister have always been tight. “And so are you, Xavier! If fighting is what you want to do, it’s not too late…”
“Yes, it is. Most MMA fighters hit their prime in their twenties. I’m almost thirty!”
“You won’t be thirty for two years. And you’re not most MMA fighters. You come from a family of champions. It’s in your blood and why you were built supersized compared
