Page 178 of Finding Hope

I know deep in my bones, she’s looking out for him.

It takes almost a full ten minutes for the sportscasters to stop gushing over the other guy and for the cameras to pan away from the dude’s nostrils.

Intense, ready, Jack comes back to the screen and rolls his sexymuscled shoulders. His tattoos dance and shimmer in the flashing lights under a sheen of sweat. My fingers itch to touch him again.

Why did I have to ruin us?

Just as ready, just as intense, Bobby shoves Jack’s mouthguard in moments before the referee calls them to the middle of the octagon, and like the drama that this is, the camera stops on Jack’s darkened eyes.

He stares straight down the barrel of the camera. He stares right at me. He can’t possibly know I’m watching, but itfeelslike he’s looking right at me.

His blue-eyed gaze; intense, serious, angry. But then his lips lift just the tiniest fraction, just enough to have his dimple popping. He brings his fingerless-gloved hand to his mouth, kisses the tips of his fingers, then points them right at me.

There are millions of women watching the fight tonight. A brand-new demographic that never would’ve paid for the broadcasting rights until now. And they’re all falling in love with my ex-boyfriend.

Dramatically – because drama sells – the music cuts out, the lightshow stops, and spotlights follow the guys as a microphone drops from the ceiling.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. It’s beginning.

The referee recites the rules and asks the guys if they’re ready to go. Jack nods, he’s ready, but I’m not so sure I am.

“Steph!” I spin my bracelet nervously. “I’m gonna be so pissed if you’re not watching him right now. Don’t worry about the cemetery stalkers, you can go to Jack. Go. Run. Protect.”

The guys on the screen tap fists.“We’re ready for the main event of the evening!”

“Steph. We’re sisters, right? We’re cool? Don’t let him get hurt. “

“Let’s go to war!”

Fuck! I’m not ready.

“Reilly steps in quickly, he’s not screwing around,”Greg announces over the roaring crowd.“Jab, jab, jab, three times! Inside thigh kick, then to the outside. Christ on a cracker, he’s here to win.”

“That hurt!”the second sportscaster shouts.“Westlin’s already limping.”

“They’re on the fence!”Greg screams.“The Jackhammer’s rife for the take down!”

“A lot of people thought he’d drag this out longer, give us a good show.”

“Left, left, left into Westlin’s jaw,”Greg speaks over his co-announcer.“Westlin has the Jackhammer in front guard.”

“Jesus, Steph. I really should’ve paid better attention. I have no friggin clue if front guard is good or bad!”

“Half guard! Westlin isn’t going down this fast.”

I squeal into my hands when the other guy’s fist comes up and slams into Jack’s face. Blood spurts free and almost has me rocking in the fetal position.

“Nailed him!”Greg shouts.“Westlin, BJJ black belt has locked the Jackhammer’s leg down.”

“Says a lot about Westlin, that the Jackhammer took this fight straight to the ground.”

The cameras alternate between zooming close enough we can see each and every bruise that blooms on the fighters’ bodies, and zooming out far enough we’re treated to a view of the Rollin crew on their feet as they scream instructions Jack will never hear.

“Reilly’s here to prove he’s earned this shot.”Greg moves and twitches like it’s him in the octagon.“He’s not riding his brothers’ coattails.”

“Not every guy that walks through here has two former champions in his corner though–”

“They’re on their feet!”Greg screams.“Reilly is relentless! He takes them to the fence all over again. He’s trying to get his back–”

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