I do and those dark, gorgeous eyes dig deep into mine.
“John, we’ve got a problem.”
There’s commotion behind me and a hand goes on my arm. “Turn toward me, son.”
The voice is John’s, but I’m not interested. I’m only interested in what’s in front of me...only interested in her touch. I’m fucking lost in my own mind, but I don’t care. If I turn away, she’ll be gone and I can’t live through that again.
“West,” she says calmly. “Let the doctor look at you.”
“You’ll go away,” I answer. “I don’t want you to go away.”
She presses her nails into me, penetrating deep enough to cause pain. “I’m real.”
The air slams out of my body and I lose my grip on the fence. “You’re what?”
John slides in front of me. “What’s your name?”
“West Young.” I yank my head to the right to see Haley again. “She’s here.”
“She’s here,” he repeats.
Another man blocks my view of Haley and he takes my hands. “Look at me.”
I do. He asks a few more questions and I answer while trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head.
“Can you fight?” he asks.
Haley holds on to the fence and stares at me like she’s actually worried. Like she’s actually in love with me. “Fuck yeah.”
I swing around and face Matt again in the center of the ring with the ref between us. The son of a bitch glances over at Haley, and when he meets my eyes again, I smile. “You ain’t got nothing.”
“Clean fight, boys,” says the ref.
“What the fuck did you say?” demands Matt.
I hold out my fist and Matt bumps it. “I said you ain’t got nothing. No girl and no hit.”
We break apart and I keep my arms at my sides. Haley spent months drilling it into my brain to keep my head on straight, to keep my emotions in check, because if I lost it, I’d lose the game plan and the fight. The same has to be true with the bastard across from me.
The yelling, the cheering, the world fades out and a sense of calm washes over me. Two things remain in my world: the asshole in the cage and Haley’s voice. “Guard up, Young.”
It’ll go up—when I’m ready.
Matt and I dance around each other and I pump my fist into my chest. “You ain’t got nothing.”
Matt jerks with the statement and I throw my arms forward and back, begging for the hit. “Nothing. Hit me all damn day. You ain’t got it.”
Abandoning his form, Matt lunges and I allow the free shot to my head. I turn with the impact and jump back at the same time. Fire consumes his eyes when I smile at him. “Nothing.”
His crew yells at him and I laugh because they see what Matt doesn’t. I’m mentally taking the show, but Matt’s lost in my words. I nod my chin for him to try again, but this time when he attacks, I pull up my guard, watch as he lowers his, then ram a two-one combination into his face.
Chapter 81
Haley
“Kick series! Kick series!” I bang on the cage.
West has taken control and he solidly kicks Matt’s side. Matt doubles over. Good God in heaven, West has struck a knee-bending blow. He could do this. He could stand for all three rounds.
The ref slides between Matt and West and checks Matt to make sure can continue. My eyes meet West’s and I nod my approval. “Keep that guard up.”
Matt waves the ref off and West refocuses on the fight. Matt’s trained and he’s experienced. He slipped into emotion and he won’t allow the mistake again. He’ll want retaliation and he’ll want it on the floor. “Stay off the floor,” I scream. “He wants the floor!”
Matt surges forward and West sidesteps the wrong way. Both of them slam to the ground and the cage vibrates with the impact. The crowd goes insane.
Matt tries to throw a knee over West to straddle. His elbow and forearm go after West’s air passage and West scrambles to move away, but Matt’s too trained to allow easy release.
“Kick your hips up! Get under his legs!”
West thrusts up and Matt crashes into him, sending him back down. He presses his forearm into West’s windpipe.
“Kick your hips up!” I yell again. “Under his legs!”
But West panics with the loss of air and his hands shoot to Matt’s arms. I bang against the fence. “Listen to me, Young!”
The reaction is instantaneous. He thrusts back up again and Matt’s grip loosens. The crowd hollers their approval when West ducks and rolls out of the hold and brings the fight back to their feet.
Matt and West round each other. The crowd claps in unison, waiting for either to attack. I glance at the ticking clock. “Thirty seconds!”
Three rounds of three minutes each and the end is near. His first competition and I know he needs to finish it out. Both of them sway with exhaustion. Matt stomps forward and West reacts by jumping out of the way. Matt will go for the knees again.
We trained for this moment. I dragged West through the mud and back again. At this point, it has nothing to do with strength, but everything to do with heart.
“Kick series!” I rattle the cage. “Kick series.”
West wipes at the sweat over his eyes and begins the dance on the floor. His legs switch as he searches for the right moment. Sensing an attack, Matt parallels, then strikes.
Matt throws a cross and West blocks and lands a front kick into his chest. Matt stumbles and I join the crowd cheering. West continues the attack, pinning Matt against the cage.
The entire arena stomps on the floor when the bell rings and the ref pulls West off Matt. West circles the cage, pounding his fist to his chest and the crowd eats it up.
With palms up against the cage, he leans into me. I wish this was the movies. I wish I could rush the cage and wrap myself around him, but there are rules and there is respect and later I’ll show him my love and gratitude. “You did it.”
West sucks in air and latches on to my fingers that I weaved through the fence. “I didn’t win.”
“I don’t care.” The decision by the judges against him should be fast. Matt scored more punches. He dominated the fight, but West stood three rounds and he sent a message to everyone within earshot of the cage: West Young has heart and he never gives up. That, in the fighting world, makes him dangerous.
He rests his forehead against the cage and I press mine against the same spot. Our fingers touch and I close my eyes, wishing we were alone.
“You’re worth it.” West is black-and-blue and bloodied and swelling. His body has been hammered and brutalized and cut. “You are worth all of this.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
The ref approaches West from behind. “Decision’s in.”
West flashes me that same glorious smile as the first day we met. “I already won.”
Chapter 82
West
Jax enters the small room wearing a shit-eating grin. Since I walked out of the cage with my defeat set in stone, the kid’s become my new best friend. He tosses another gallon bag of ice to John. “Haley’s about to kick some ass if we don’t let her in soon. How’re you holding up?”
Sitting in a chair, I’m down to my briefs and John’s adamant his granddaughter isn’t witnessing me exposed. John’s wrapped two bags of ice on my shoulder where something popped out, then repopped back into place during the fight. I hold a bag to my eye, and he sets another one on the knuckles of my right hand. “I’m fine.”
“Remarkably, you are,” says John. “But I can’t start training you again until you heal. This swelling needs to go down.”
I rub my jaw, then work it around. There’s not a spot on my body that isn’t pounding and the shock of John’s statement is enough to numb the pain for a second. “Training?”
“Payment due on the first of the month and you’re required to practice at least five days a week.”
“Bullshit,” coughs Jax. “He requires seven.”
John checks the bag of ice on my shoulder. “You’re not tapping out after your first fight, are you?”
It hurts to smile. “No, I’m not.”
“Good.”
A knock on the door sends Jax into a laughing fit. “I told you, Hays, you aren’t seeing him until he’s got...” Jax swings the door open and the words fade away.
He scratches the back of his neck and chances a glimpse at me. “It’s some guy claiming to be your dad.”
Denny or Dad? The thought floats before I can stop it. I nod and the door widens to reveal my father. He’s out of place in a pair of jeans and a collared polo shirt.
“Come on, Jax.” John stands. “Let’s go keep Haley from starting a brawl.”
The door shuts with a loud click and the only sound in the room is the ice shifting in the bags. I pop my neck to the side, finding myself too damned tired for a screaming match. “Whatever it is, can we argue about it later?”
Dad slips into a seat across from me. An hour ago, John sat in that same chair and offered me more fatherly advice than my own supposed father had my entire life. “I told your mother you’re still alive.”
“Thanks.”
“Call her. She’ll want to hear your voice.”
“I will.” I stretch my shoulder and wince. “Mind keeping me on your insurance for a little longer?”