Fearless: An Enemies to Lovers Romance by Bradshaw Ellie

Author:Bradshaw, Ellie [Bradshaw, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: TWeiss Publications
Published: 2020-05-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Theresa

There is a flash of light through the curtains, and a rumble of thunder vibrates my chest. Or maybe that’s just my heart, caught up in a momentary sympathy with Sean’s, rumbling with an old grief that isn’t rightfully mine, but that he’s given to me nonetheless.

After he was talked out we made love again.

Made love. It seems to me a strange expression to describe the co-mingling of passions and bodies, thoughts and sounds and movement. The mutual strain toward a single, blinding goal.

Then again, maybe it’s the perfect way to say that.

It was gentler this time, less urgent. Sean’s body over mine, beneath mine, within mine, was no less powerful or insistent. But he seemed more contemplative and connected. His eyes never left mine. When I came I cried out his name and held him tightly as he finished. This time, after absorbing the catharsis of his story, it was I who wept while he held me and the first murmurings of thunder rolled off in the distance.

Now, he sleeps and I stare at the ceiling.

And realize I am not a true journalist. I guess I never have been. For me, it’s always been about exposing the bad actions of morally questionable people. It’s never been “just the facts,” because all the facts have been tinged with my own judgment.

Now, I have been handed the story of a lifetime. The true uncovering of the past and motivations of the world’s most cut-off, enigmatic fighter. It had everything: early conflict, tragedy, grief, triumph. Every sports fan in the world—hell, every fan of stories and victories and people in the world—would fall all over themselves to hear the true origin story of the great Sean Kelly.

My career would be made. With a story like this, I could write my own check anywhere. I could bid a not-so-fond farewell to SNM and Bill Thompson and B.O.-laden locker rooms. The career I have worked so long for now just stands at the end of a few thousand typed words.

But I’m not going to write this story. Before he fell asleep, Sean propped himself up on an elbow. “I told you I’ve never shared this with anyone before.” His hand stroked up my thigh.

I nodded. “Yes.”

His brow furrowed over the bridge of his nose. I couldn’t tell if it was in confusion, or just heavy thought. “I’m not sure, even, why I told you.” He cracked half a smile. “Maybe it just needed to come out.”

“It was the booze,” I said.

His smile widened. “Definitely the booze.” Then his face became serious. “I’m not ready to tell this story to the whole world.”

I had expected it, but I can’t say I didn’t feel the slightest drop of disappointment in my belly. “My lips are sealed, Mr. Kelly.”

He studied my face for a moment, as if looking for some sign that I was lying to him. Apparently satisfied, he whispered, “Thank you.”

This is how I know I’m not a journalist. Because a real journalist tells the story.

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