Chapter Twenty-Five

The snow finally fell in the second week of November, blanketing Minneapolis in a thick sheet of white, creating flight nightmares for any and everybody that had to travel. Celeste was concerned about her brother, who was flying out to Shreveport, Louisiana, to negotiate the contract for his first professional boxing match. She couldn't be more elated for Jacob, excited to see him live his dream after spending years doing backbreaking, menial jobs that would lead anybody on the path to nowhere. She only wished that she had a clear-cut dream to chase. With each passing day, Celeste found herself sinking into the depths of self-doubt and self-pity.

She was pretty sure Mark wasn't coming for her. Not when he had women like Traci waiting in the wings for him. She was gorgeous; pretty face, long glossy hair, little body and big breasts…how could Celeste compete with that? Mark insisted to her over and over that he wanted nothing more to do with Traci, but it didn't stop Celeste from conceiving every possible worst-case scenario inside of her head.

With her head in shambles, Jacob was worried to leave his sister home alone. He was worried about Brock tracking her down as well, but Celeste assured him she'd be fine staying in by herself. She was actually looking forward to it after spending so much time around people. Her big plan for the night involved hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and an Ally McBeal rerun. She was dressed in her favourite pink pyjama pants and a white tank top, her favourite fuzzy blue blanket over her lap. It did its job shielding her from the faint Minnesota breeze that was coming into the house through the door and window cracks.

Jacob had phoned two hours before, letting her know his flight had gotten in safe. He didn't have to say anything, but Celeste could tell that there had been more turbulence on the flight than he would have liked. He promised he would be home in two days, tops. He kept asking if she was going to be all right, but Celeste brushed him off and told him to focus on the negotiations. She was so proud of him. So was Elise.

Brock had come to Jacob's house in the morning, showing up just after Jacob had left the airport. There had been no fighting and Brock had made no attempts to drag her back to his home with him. They were both visibly suffering and in a tremendous deal of pain for various and obvious reasons. But both Celeste and Brock had learned a long time ago how to keep their reactions muted with one another.

As hard as she tried, she couldn't harden herself enough to completely hate Brock. She only hated what he became in the end, selling his soul for a job that he really didn't care for. In the end, Celeste pitied him more than anything.

He had tried to hug her before leaving, and hadn't pushed the issue when she put her hand up to resist. The days of him touching her were long gone. Even being close to her made her nerves sing with suspicion and fear. She had watched him until his truck had left her vision. Then she had shut the door on the darkest chapter of her life, happy that it had ended on lighter terms.

Then the tears flowed.

Elise had insisted that her breakup with Brock was very much like a death, and it was natural to mourn the loss. With Brock out of the picture, Celeste felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She could breathe again, she was free. It was the greatest, most empowering feeling in the world.

After Ally McBeal went through its opening credits, Celeste jumped when she heard a pounding on the door. It was loud, like there was a SWAT team waiting on the other side. Her face darkened; she wasn't expecting anyone, and she was pretty sure that Jacob had told everybody about his trip. She changed the channel - she didn't like to admit that she watched Ally McBeal - and went to the door, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

There was no peephole in the front door, a minor misstep Jacob had made. The original door to the house had been blown off during a windstorm. For a second Celeste was afraid that Brock had come back to cause trouble for her, but she shook that fear off relatively quickly. She hadn't told him Jacob was leaving, and besides, if he had wanted to drag her back with him, he would have tried it during his first visit. With a deep sigh, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

Mark stood in front of her, his black duffel bag slung over his right shoulder. He was dressed comfortably in jeans, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket. A Deadman Inc. toque covered his short ginger hair. He smiled at her and chuckled a deep rumble that rang as clear as bells in Celeste's ears. It hit her that he had sent Trish to do some scoping. She smirked. "Clever."

"Trish spill?" Celeste shook her head. "Good. Look, I know there's another week, but this whole month apart thing is stupid, and I'm just not going to do it anymore." Celeste studied the semi-defiant, semi-puzzled expression on Mark's face and she giggled. She stepped to the side and let him enter the house. He took his gloves off and rubbed his reddened hands together. "Minnesota is always so goddamned cold," he murmured. She closed and locked the door behind her.

They hugged tightly, her fuzzy blue blanket falling to the floor and pooling around her pink and white ankle socks. He lifted her to reach his height and she squealed with laughter as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "It's good to hear that laugh again. I've been missing it around the house." He put her down.

"How's Zeus?"

"He misses you, too. He's been real depressed, looking around for you." Her hands stayed rested on his chest. He felt a stirring deep inside of him. "Where's your brother?"

"In Louisiana. Negotiating his first boxing match."

"That's too bad. I wanted to meet him. It occurred to me on the flight that you stayed with me for a month, and your family has no idea what kind of a guy I am." Celeste shook her head, going back to the couch. She didn't bother to pick up the blanket that pooled at the front door.

He grabbed her, turning her back to him and planting his lips on hers. Shockwaves ignited through both of them. Mark found himself instantly winded; she had robbed him of his breath. His arms snaked around her waist to draw her close.

This was the moment they had both been waiting for. In the moment, there was nothing but the two of them. No WWE, no Brock Lesnar, no Paul Heyman, no drama. Just two people falling deeper into each other and revelling in every moment of it.

Her arms wrapped it around his neck, returning the kiss eagerly until they had to pull back, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf. Mark's neck was feeling kinked from leaning down to reach her height, but he had to admit it was worth it.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked.

"Is that what you want it to mean?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

He drew her close. "That I do."

A/N: Alas, this is it. I might do a sequel, but I'm not too sure how it's going to play out just yet.