Chapter 4 Chapter 4
The odds were against her. That much was obvious.
Body and soul, heart and mind, everything that embodied her as a person would rather pour fuel all over this male and throw in a lit match.
But with her choices limited,
Elowen had to give in, for her sake and her brother's.
She had been pacing her living room for minutes, chewing what remained of her fingernails before she finally stood still.
"How much?"
He looked at her with renewed hope in his blue orbs.
"How much do you normally get paid for your jobs?"
"About... um," combining her waitress job, her supermarket cashier job, and her side gigs. "Uh... twenty-five sixish... hundred a month."
“I’ll pay you five grand. I will wire it to you right now and I will keep paying you every month until the tournament is over. After that… when I win? I’ll triple it.”
Her lips parted.
That would be double her earnings without working?
She dragged her hand over her face, biting back a groan. Saying yes to him was madness. Turning him away was too. Elowen had never prioritized money, but she had always prioritized her and her brother's needs, which his offer would cover and leave room for breathing space.
"No amount of money can make up for the way I wronged Kieron. But..." he pulled out his phone and swiped to his cash app. "This... This could be a start to show how sorry I am."
•
She had taken his offer. She sat on her sofa five grand richer. The first thing she did was forward upkeep to Kieron and spin him some lie about getting paid extra for her gigs. The second thing was to settle her landlord, keep a little, and slosh the rest into savings.
Looking at him was the difficult part. A tiny part of her felt like she had let him win. And so, she just sat there, staring at the heavy rain beating on the window panes, silently hoping that the storm could subside so that he could leave.
"Sit."
She murmured, finally getting the courage to meet his gaze.
He motioned to his wet clothes.
"I... I don't mind standing. I don't want to wet your sofa."
"This storm doesn't look like it's going to breeze over anytime soon. Do you plan on standing there for hours?"
He took a deep breath and leaned off, but he was still very hesitant about getting her sofa wet. She rolled her eyes and stood up. On second thought, getting him dried would be more beneficial.
"Come with me." She murmured, rolling up her sleeves. "I'll get you a towel and a change of clothes. Would you want to sleep over?"
He froze, cheeks flushing.
“You mean… sleep with you? Sorry... I mean, in your ro—?”
Elowen nearly gagged. “God, no.” Her eyes rolled so hard it almost hurt. “On the couch. I wouldn’t even let you near my room, or the other room.”
“Other room?”
“It’s Kieron’s room.”
She turned on her heel, motioning for him to follow. “The bathroom is this way. It’s not fancy like whatever palace you live in, but it does its job.”
He followed behind her like a baby duckling.
“A sec.”
She left him in the doorway and disappeared into her bedroom. Rummaging through her drawers, she dug out hangers, a few clips for his drenched clothes, and the flannel pajama set her father used to wear.
It was faded, but sturdy.
Hosting Lucian in her home was the ultimate betrayal to her heart.
When she returned, he was still standing stiffly where she left him. She shoved the bundle into his arms.
“Here.”
Lucian blinked, caught off guard. His fingers curled slowly around the fabric. “Is this... your dad’s?”
The way he said it was soft, almost reverent.
"Yeah. It's the only thing your size."
"He was the greatest coa—"
"Shut up and get changed."
She threw the towel in his face and left.
•
By the time he padded out ten minutes later with his hair damp and the oversized pajamas hanging loose on his frame, she was in the kitchen cutting the pizza into sections.
The delivery guy had truly weathered the storm and delivered. And since she always ordered in large quantities due to the fact that she was a foodie—
Lucian was in luck.
The clothes were ridiculous on him, but not so much that it looked too out of place.
He lingered by the doorway, awkward, hesitant.
“Where should I…”
“The couch.” She jabbed a finger at it. “That is your kingdom for the night. Don’t touch anything of mine and definitely don’t snore.”
His mouth curved up in a little cocky manner.
“You want me to stop breathing, too?”
“If I could, I would.”
She plated the pizza slices and grabbed juice boxes from the fridge.
"I don't know how to cook so I normally order these. Feel free to eat it, or starve."
Elowen placed a plate in front of him and the other in her lap. She turned on the television and scrolled to a current match replay.
"You'll be fighting this guy? Correct?"
He looked at the screen and took a bite out of the pizza.
"Yes."
"Aya Koznikov," she squinted her eyes at the screen. "The destroyer of men?"
She looked at Lucian. In his prime, he would've floored Koznikov. But while he was away at rehab, Koznikov was training, and training hard. It was safe to say, without getting his groove back, he would be used to mop the ring.
"Are you clean?"
"Hm?"
She swallowed her chew.
"I mean, you did a drug test in rehab, yeah?"
"Oh..." He set his plate down, laughing nervously. "I don't... usually do drugs actually. That was a one-time thing. And yeah, I'm clean."
"Then why did you do it that night?"
His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he chose silence instead.
"Whatever." She stood up from the couch, grabbing her juice box and almost-empty plate. "I normally eat like a caveman and I don't want to soil my reputation by doing that in front of you. I'll be retiring to my room for the night."
He looked up and forced a smile.
"Thank you for the pizza, and the juice, and the clothes and the—"
"Shh. You talk too much."
She started making her way toward her destination, her room.
"Get enough sleep yourself. I want you out of my house before day break—woah"
A deafening crack of thunder startled her. And just when she was relieved that she didn't lose her balance, the lights went out.
