Page 83 of Until You're Mine
Brooklyn believed in me, and no way in hell was I letting her down. Knowing her, she’d take the blame and decide her message had hurt instead of helped, when it was my main reason for giving everything I had. At the end of the third and final round, I didn’t want to look back and think I could’ve done more.
Once the doctor declared me good enough to continue, my corner gave their last advice, rapid-fire style, and then I was walking to the center of the cage.
We didn’t bother to touch gloves—Conrad’s decision, not mine, although there was no love lost on this end. He started up with the trash talk right away as we circled each other, his eye slightly swollen from the punches I’d landed first round. “Couldn’t help but notice Brooklyn’s not over there cheering for you. Don’t take it too hard. That’s her thing, not showing up and then crying about it.”
I let the rage flow through my veins, a natural shot of adrenaline I’d use the instant I found the right opening. Conrad attempted to shoot on me and wrap up my legs, but unlike last round, I sprawled in time. Which also set him up for a solid knee to the face. He stumbled back, and I stepped forward and threw my left hook, putting everything I had behind it.
It was one of those punches you felt the connection and how it’d landed just right. Conrad went down hard, his body smacking the mat, limbs limp. The ref leaned over his prone form, but I wasn’t going to swing again, and Conrad wasn’t going to be getting up for several seconds.
TKO—the perfect way to end my first fight back in the cage. The crowd erupted, or more likely, the cheering finally registered. Fans were always happy about the fights with clear winners, no split decision or confusion over who won. I headed to my corner, where my coaches slapped my back and shouted their congrats, and I saw my mom coming through the crowd. I asked the boys to let her in, and she threw her arms around me.
“I knew you could do it,” she squealed.
“Wouldn’t be here without you,” I said, and she squeezed me again.
One moment blurred into the next, and then a guy shoved a microphone in my face. He asked me some basic questions, and of course the fact that I’d taken a break after “several big losses” got thrown into the mix. “How’d you come back from that?”
“Those losses were right after my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I fought some tough opponents, so I’m not taking anything away from them, but I needed to take a break. Once she kicked Cancer’s ass, I asked Team Domination to get me into fighting shape, and I have to thank them for doing exactly that so quickly, and for arranging this fight for me.”
I looked toward my corner. Brooklyn was here in spirit and all—not to mention the person responsible for putting me in the cage tonight—but I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her and tell her that I loved her. Instead of throwing up my walls and letting her walk out of my life, I should’ve fought harder to show her that we could make it work. That together we could take on anything and everything.
The microphone was shoved in my face again, and I had no earthly idea what had been asked.
I wiped my forearm across my forehead. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to repeat that.”
“You’ve said before that Cyclone Jones is one of your idols, and now you’re fighting the same night, in the same cage. Are you looking forward to watching him take on the current belt holder?”
My gaze returned to my team. I tapped my wrist, asking for the time. After a few exchanged mime impressions, Liam figured out what I was asking and mouthed the time. I turned back to the guy with the mic. “I’m excited, and I’ll be cheering for him to win that belt tonight. But honestly, I’m going to have to catch the replay, because right now, I’ve gotta go win back my girl.”
“Did you want to give her a shout-out?” he asked with a chuckle. “Maybe that’ll help.”
“Sure,” I said, even though she probably wasn’t listening, and it’d take more than a shout-out to win her over. It might take me weeks or even months, but I’d prove to her that the odds didn’t apply to us and that she could put her faith in me, however long it took. When you cared about someone, you stuck around and worked it out, regardless of the ups and downs, and even if that meant taking big risks and altering your definition of sticking around. So the world might as well know that she was as good as mine, and I was hers. “Brooklyn, you and I aren’t through, not by a long shot. I’m coming for you, and I’m not gonna rest until you’re mine.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Brooklyn
Thirty more minutes.
My heels echoed against the shiny hardwood floor as I paced the room. I’d sold two paintings, and someone almost bought the one of Shane, and instead of silently pleading for the woman to buy it, I’d been inwardly begging her not to. Obviously I had issues.
When Dad interrupted my conversation with her to let me know that Shane had knocked out Conrad halfway through the third round, my loud outburst of joy had drawn a lot of attention and scrunched eyebrows—some of the women had too much Botox in their foreheads to reallyseethe scrunch, but their expressions made it clear their foreheads would scrunch if they had the ability.
Further demonstrating my point about having issues, I’d taken that as an omen thatnotselling the painting of Shane had brought good luck. To him and my brothers and my dad and the gym.
I stole another peek at the clock on the far wall and decided it was broken. How could only three minutes have passed since I’d last checked it? The second the long hand hit the top of the clock, I was sprinting out of here and buzzing down to San Jose. There was no way I’d get there in time for any of the fights. In fact, I’d probably get there as everyone else was racing away from the place. But I had to see Shane.
I needed to tell him I was sorry we left things so crappy, thank him for sending my dad to me when he could’ve used him in his corner, congratulate him on his fight, and let him know I believed he’d win that belt someday. I’m sure the fact that I loved him would spill out, too. I wasn’t sure where that’d leave us, but right now all I knew was that I needed to see him more than I’d ever needed anything.
I returned to my designated area and wondered if it’d be bad form to kick off my heels and lean a hip against the wall. Every time I thought things would slow down, another surge of people would show. It was good exposure, and I was grateful for it. But I was also antsy and worried that I’d rush down to see Shane and he’d be likewhoa, you read way too much into me sending your dad for support.
Or that I’d be too late, and he’d be celebrating in other ways that might wreck me, even though I’d let him go, so he’d be perfectly free to do so. Pain blossomed, robbing me of breath. Yeah, that was the one I was terrified of. The same fear that’d sent me running when I realized how much I loved him, and how big the crash would be, filled me once more.
Since my brain clearly hated me, doubts drifted up to add another layer of anxiety. So much remained the same. The distance, the separate paths our lives were going in.
No thinking like that.Now that I had proof people could change, I needed to alter several years of biased, jaded theories. Dad had come here tonight. Because of Shane, whose actions made it clear he truly understood how important my art was to me. Thanks to his push, my dad and I had come a long way in repairing our relationship. Which added more evidence to the theory that we could grab hold of our destiny and change it. We could determine the outcome.
It took a leap of faith, and that meant jumping before you could see exactly how it would end.
