“You’re a mess, Cain,” she tells me.
“I know.” I try to hold her gaze steadily, but now my eyes are starting to cross a little. “Jess, I love you. I do. I love you.”
She kisses me gently—her aim is considerably better than mine was—but then the kiss turns intense. It hurts, but I don’t care. I’m probably bleeding all over her. “Are you okay?” she asks me.
I’m not sure if she means am I okay after having my bell rung or if I’m okay about her and the baby, or if I’m okay about any number of other things. But I nod. “I’m okay, Jess. Really.” I lay a hand gently on her stomach. “I want to be around for my family. I really do. And I’m so, so sorry…”
She lays a finger over my lips. “Stop, Cain. I get it.” Quickly she gives me another kiss.
Along with Paul, she helps me out of the cage. We make our way through the crowd, who’s still cheering for the Wall, and finally reach the doors to the locker room.
And right inside, between me and the sweet, sweet relief of some doctoring, a few stitches, and a shower, is Phil Spada.
Jess freezes next to me, her arms still looped through mine. She says nothing. Neither do I.
“McAllister,” he says evenly. “Jessica.”
“Pop,” she says quietly. Her voice shakes, and in that moment I hate Spada so much, just for that.
“Mr. Spada,” I say. “Nice to see you.” Which of course it isn’t.
Paul intervenes, moving a little ahead of me, partially blocking me from Spada’s direct view. “He’s pretty banged up, Mr. Spada. I really need to get him sorted out.”
Spada nods slowly. “If he didn’t want to get banged up quite so much, he should have ended the fight earlier.”
God, he’s such a fucking asshole. “I did what you asked,” I grate out. “I threw the fight.”
“Or he was just better than you.”
I’d like to argue that point, but it would be wasted breath. “Doesn’t much matter in the long run, does it?”
“Lucky for you, it doesn’t matter to the people paying me.” He steps aside and lets Paul and Jess help me inside.
“Whether it makes a difference or not, I did throw the fight,” I tell him. It doesn’t make a difference what he thinks, but it does make a difference what Jess thinks. I want Jess to know the truth. What I did, I did for her. When I catch her gaze, though, I can tell she understands that.
“Good,” Spada says. “You’re a man of your word. I like that.”
I nod, wondering where he’s going with this. Is he going to be willing to come to an agreement, or is he just going to have me run out of town on a rail, anyway?
“We need to talk, you and me,” Spada goes on. I nod again. I think it’d be nice if I could clean up first, but I don’t want to leave Jess alone with her dad long enough to take a shower. Maybe it’s an irrational fear, but I can’t help but think I might come back and find out he’s taken her away.
“So talk,” I tell him.
“Have a seat.” He gestures toward a bench in the locker room.
“I think I’ll stand.” I’m not giving him any chance at superiority, even if it’s just him standing while I’m sitting.
Spada shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit, and he takes a seat on the bench himself. I give Jess a quick look and go ahead and sit across from her dad. She takes a step back as if she just wants to disappear.
Spada addresses me directly. Jess might as well not even be in the room. “Let’s get one thing straight right from the beginning, McAllister. I don’t like you. In fact, I detest you right now. You’ve sullied my daughter and insulted my family.” I start to protest, but he raises a finger. “But…” Finally he looks at Jess, if only briefly. “I understand there’s a baby on the way, and I have to respect that. And you threw the fight tonight, just as you were told, and I have to respect that as well.”
He stops, and I get the impression it’s my turn to speak. I have no idea what he wants me to say. “So…” I finally venture, “you’re okay with me and Jess?”
“Oh, I’m far from okay with it. But I’m not going to break up a family. You’re the father of my grandchild, apparently, or you will be. So you’re free and clear. For now.”
I know what he wants me to say. He wants me to slaver and kowtow and be disgustingly grateful that he’s spared my life. That he’s commuted my sentence, in a way. I’m not going to give him the pleasure. Instead I just nod. He doesn’t deserve anything else from me.