“Still, how do we know Trent will follow through with all this?”
“His business manager is drawing up a contract. I’ll sign it, he’ll sign it, and we’ll be done.”
I nodded to myself. “Seems risky, though.”
“Alex.” I looked at him. “There’s nothing else in this world but risk. Sometimes you have to jump and just trust that you’ll land.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay. I trust you.”
“I know you do.” He kissed me again softly.
“This doesn’t mean you get to keep calling me ‘sis’ or ‘wife,’ you know,” I said when we stopped.
“Well, that’s just not true.”
I looked away, smiling to myself. “Try it and see what happens.”
“Okay, sis.”
I splashed water at him and he laughed, blowing it back at me.
“Not exactly a big deterrent, wife,” he said.
“Okay, now you asked for it.”
The rest of the night was spent in the shower, making our bodies come again, wrapped around each other.
And then again, back in the bedroom. All through the night it was him and everything he was doing.
I knew what he wanted, and he knew what I wanted. The problem of the fight still hung loosely over our heads, but for some reason it didn’t seem so bad. The uncertainty wasn’t bothering me as much as it had before.
I was learning to live in the moment with him.
I was learning to give in to what I wanted, even if it was wrong.
18
Cole
I could feel the sweat roll down my back as the low roar of the crowd began to wash over me.
Across the thin mat of the ring’s center stood Trent, staring back at me with a menacing grin. I smiled back and nodded, just to see how he would react, and I watched as he turned away.
People were saying things to me. I nodded their way, so they understood, but really I was far from there. I was in my own head, in my own zone, slowly feeling the calm rage build up in my body.
My eyes roamed out over the crowd and I spotted her, sitting in the front row: Alexa, her hair piled up on her head, staring back at me. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. The crowd roared again and I looked away, afraid that the sight of her would sap the rage from me.
The last few days had been a blur of training. Ronnie offered to help work with me, and together we worked harder than I’d ever worked before. I lived and breathed the fight, learning everything I could about Trent, and I felt like I was as ready as I ever would be.
But two days ago, I totally stopped my training and prep. There was such a thing as too much preparation, and I had decided I didn’t want to burn out. Instead, I got my workouts through Alexa, fucking her night and day and basically spending as much time with her as I could.
Because after this fight, who knew what was going to happen. If I lost, Trent could publish those pictures and tear our family apart. I’d never fight again, of course, but that seemed like only a distant problem, an issue someone else would have to deal with.
The only two things I cared about were Alexa and beating Trent until he bled.
The ring announcer said something, and Ronnie shoved me toward the center. The ref was giving the usual bullshit prefight talk, and so I stood there listening while Trent tried to stare me down.
There was no fear in me. There never was. Every time I fought, I never felt like something bad could happen. Instead, I was calm, as calm as I’d ever been in my life. Finally, the ref finished, and I went back to my corner. Ronnie had left the ring and was standing just outside the cage.
“Remember,” he yelled, “kick him in the face.”
I grinned and nodded. “The fucking face,” I yelled back.
Ronnie gave me the thumbs up, and I looked back across the ring at Trent.
He was shaking his muscles out. I felt no jitters and had no reason to warm up any more. I’d already spent the last two hours slowly going through my prefight routine. I was as ready as I was ever going to be. The only thing I needed was the sound of the bell.
My hands were wrapped and covered, and I could feel the slight stale breeze from the venue’s air conditioning. The lights were bright and made the ring hot as fuck, but that didn’t matter. It was the same venue that I had won my last match in, which was good. I felt comfortable, even though the crowd was twice as big and three times as loud and everything was being broadcast on TV. None of that stuff bothered me.
I stood there, breathing in and out. In and out. Deep and loose.
And then the bell rang.
I moved forward, my hands held up, moving loosely on my toes. Trent came at me right away, throwing furious blows.
We exchanged punches like that. He wanted to go for a fast knockout, but that was a mistake on his part. I held my own, using my hands as much as my feet, but he was clearly prepared for my kicks. Trent was a good stand-up fighter, maybe one of the best, and in the past I had always had to take him down to the mat to win.