Remy(55)

Keeping balance is impossible.

I slam to the floor.

I feel it under me. I almost like it. The only solid thing as my world spins. Something about knowing I can fall and the motherfucking floor is there for me is comforting.

A wet puddle of blood is beneath me. My eyes are nearly shut and swollen. And my ribs feel like they’ve been punched into my lungs. I plant a hand on the canvas, and then the other, and I hear counting. I try pushing up, and for a moment there I don’t know if I can.

I hate him. I hate him with a passion. All I can think about is me standing here, seeing those yellow eyes and that face, and busting it open the next time I face him.

I push up and spit blood, and as soon as I am up, I catch a left hook on my side that swings me around.

I stumble and almost fall again, need to shake my head. The room is spinning. And all I can think of are Brooke’s arms, and how good they will feel when she holds me tonight. I’m going to cuddle her to me and let her put ice on me and work her magic, and she’s going to love me for giving her back her sister because I thought I wanted the championship, but not now.

Now all I want is the woman I love. To love me. Like nobody in my life has loved me before. And I’ll fight harder for her than for anyone.

I hear Riley and Coach yelling at me over and over, “Your fucking guard! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

People yell all over the arena. They’re getting thirstier and thirstier for blood, but today I can only give them mine.

“KILL HIM, RIPTIDE! KILL HIM!”

The next hit sends blood splattering across the canvas, and the people shout even louder. “REM-ING-TON! REM-ING-TON!”

My heart has never pumped so hard. No part of my body understands why I’m not using it. My fight tonight is with myself, with every fucking instinct inside me, my muscles, which want to work, my nerves, which jump reflexively to protect. But I can’t move my right arm anymore. It hangs limp at my side, and it doesn’t even hurt.

“Remy, Remy, REMY!” people continue yelling.

Scorpion growls in rage. I know for a fact there has never been a moment in his life when anyone rooted for him.

I spit in his face. “Next time I see you, you’re going to eat my fist,” I tell him.

He swings his arm back with a roar and I wait for the slam. It comes and I’m down. My vision tunnels and goes black.

♥ ♥ ♥

I HEAR MUSIC in the dark. I hear the songs Brooke has played me, songs I have played her. My body aches and I try to move but can’t pull out of the dark. I feel hands on my jaw, and I hear sounds close to my ear. Sobbing little sounds. I feel her kisses on my temple, her fingers on top of my hair. I hear the music and lose it . . . lose her . . . No, I’m never going to lose her. I’d do everything for her. She has to know I’d do everything for her.

Light burns into my retinas. My body is leaden and numb. My chest hurts. I peel open my eyes wider and assess my surroundings.

Hospital. Riley.

And Brooke?

Panic seizes me. I try to talk and something is stuck in my throat, so I groan.

Riley’s head shoots up from where he sits in the chair. “You’re up, thank god!” He comes to me. “Holy god, Remington, I’m fucking glad you made it so I can kill you myself. You had us all—”

I grab his arm and squeeze so tight, he halts, and a noise emerges from my throat, through the stupid breathing tube I’ve got jammed in there.

“You want to know where Brooke is?” Riley asks when he looks into my eyes.

I nod and groan again. The panic claws through me. She saw the debacle in the ring, and I need to see that she’s all right.

When Riley goes to get her, I count the seconds with my heartbeat.

She comes in and stops when we see each other. I’ve never before felt what I feel now. Every cell in my body leaps, but at the same time I’m immobilized in this bed, trembling with the sight of her. She’s there, looking at me, in clothes that are wrinkled and her hair a mess, her face pale, and she has never looked so good to me. My body tenses with the urges burning through me. I want to tell her, I love you, Little Firecracker. I fucking love you so bad. . . .

I want her to bring me my iPod so I can play a song to her. “I Love You” again. Or another one. Shit, nothing can capture the feeling of loving her.

She starts trembling on her feet, and my eyes start burning when I hear the sobs that start wracking her. They tear from somewhere so deep, her voice sounds completely unfamiliar, and it makes me hurt in places I didn’t even know I had.

“How d-dare you make m-me watch t-that . . . how could you stand there and make me watch h-him destroy you! Your bones! Your face! Y-you . . . were . . . mine! Mine . . . to . . . to . . . hold. . . . How d-dare you break you! How dare you break me!”