Page 40 of Sealed in Ink

“You better go,” I whisper, rubbing my cheeks.

“Mary—”

“Justgo.”

If he stays, I’ll sink into him. I won’t move. I won’t let him move. I’ll keep him there and clutch onto him, weeping, allowing myself to feel the sadness that has been stacking up for so long. If it weren’t for Brad, I would, but we can’t.

He turns, leaves the room, and quietly shuts the door.“You’ve known I was crazy since you were fifteen,”Mom’s voice points out in that condescending way. I never heard her speak like that in real life; I only heard it in the video.“You can see it in my eyes, hear it in my voice, and the awkward way your brother would talk about me. You’ve known.”

I lie on the bed, bury my face into a pillow, and scream until I feel like my lungs are going to burst.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

RUST

I stand backstage before the press conference in the corner, thinking about yesterday. Marquis and my manager linger nearby but don’t speak to me. They can sense my dark mood. Marquis should be happy. At yesterday evening’s training, after the new joy at the baby news, then the darkness after, I went hard. I sparred hard like I had a death wish. For the first time since camp started, I did well, but only by harnessing the goddamn agony.

These bizarre videos have poisoned my woman’s mind. She’s even more naïve than I thought, even more inexperienced. Does it make me even guiltier? But even with that, I would’ve stayed with her and held her, even with her brother next door. I hid like arat.

The backstage gets less busy as they announce the other fighters. There are small cheers from the crowd, but people erupt when they say my name. People love the stone-faced, don’t-give-a-damn Rust Hadley. They don’t know that it’s a façade now. I’ll never be dead inside again, not after the baby news.

I left the mother of my child to cry alone because sheyelledat me. I’m supposed to be the man of the house. The provider. The leader.

Cain Cruz, as the reigning champion, is announced last. He gets a fair amount of attention from the crowd, too, but not as loud as me. He grins over and talks into the mic. “Nice to see you, No Rust. A real pleasure and congratulations.”

For a crazy second, I wonder if he knows about the baby somehow. Maybe, after I left, Mary was pissed and called the media, but she’d never do that. What am I even thinking?

When I say nothing, he continues, “You’ve got the chance to fight the biggest draw in all combat sports.”

“Your last pay-per-view was the worst ranked of the year,” I tell him.

The crowd cheers and claps like I said this to “burn” him, but it’s true.

“Look at you, eh? Still a sore loser after all these years?”

I don’t react. I never respond to these things. I don’t care what the other fighter says. I do my talking in the cage. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll make comments like I just did, but I cut off once I can tell they’re trying to drag me into a back-and-forth. It’s easy for me. I make myself cold.

I don’t even care about the arena packed with a thousand people and celebrities I recognize in the front row. Mary and Brad are standing with Marquis. Mary’s wearing a hot-as-fuck plaid skirt that cuts off just above her knees and tights made for unwrapping. She raises her hands and offers a small wave. Brad grins. They look awkward around each other, no surprise afteryesterday, but they’re still family. The only person who could change that is me.

Mary glows with the pregnancy. My baby. My purpose.

The press conference goes on, the media asking run-of-the-mill questions, until Maddie goddamn Maddox appears in the spotlight, mic in hand. A gasp goes through the arena. Several people start to jeer and boo, and she eats it up, doing a curtsey and grinning.

“Uh, yeah, my question is for Rust.”

“What moron allowed this?” I growl, looking at my manager. She’s shrugging. She doesn’t know, apparently. “You get her in here, Cain?”

“She’s just one of my surprises, my friend,” Cain sneers.

“Theatrical prick.”

The crowd erupts at that, everybody clapping and hollering. Maddie clears her throat into the mic, and more people jeer. Finally, she’s able to speak. “My question is, why did you leave me?”

Mary flinches in the crowd, a ripple moving through her, but not like yesterday, not when I was owning her perfect throat, and ripples of pleasure were moving through her body. Or the way she trembled when I cheered and swept her around the room.

“I never saw you before the other night,” I say matter-of-factly.

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