Page 52 of Seducing Cinderella

“So?”

“So, I’m already going in as the underdog! In the grand scheme of what women look for in a guy, Dr. Douchebag wins, hands down.”

“On paper. He only wins on paper, kid.” Butch leaned forward and smiled. “What have I always told you the trump card is in any fight?”

Reid met the steady gaze of his coach and started to see a glimmer of light at the end of that long, dark tunnel he’d been in for weeks. “Heart. Any fighter can win against any odds if he has more heart than his opponent.”

Butch slapped him on the shoulder and sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Exactly. And not only do you have heart, son, I’d wager you’ve got hers, too, if you want it. But that’s up to you. Now, go home and get some rest. No matter what you decide you still have a fight tomorrow and I need your head on straight or you’re gonna get it knocked off. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied as he got up to leave. Just as he opened the office door his coach called his name.

“No matter what happens, I’m here for you. Good luck, son.”

It seemed like such a normal sentiment. One that a person would hear any number of times in their life. And yet, that had been the first time Reid had ever heard those words.

He tried to speak—even a muttered “thanks” would’ve been acceptable—but his throat had completely closed up, not to mention his eyes were starting to water. Before he completely broke down, he gave his coach a curt nod and closed the door behind him.

…

Reid straddled a chair with his wrists propped on the back as Scotty wrapped the athletic tape around his hands and fingers, preparing him for his fight with Diaz.

He’d had all night and most of the day to figure out what he was going to do about the situation with Lucie. A couple of hours ago, he made a decision. A decision he couldn’t have predicted a few months ago, but one he was surprisingly at peace with.

A knock sounded on the door and Scotty looked to Reid for direction. Some fighters hated any type of distraction before a fight. Reid had never been the kind who needed to drown out the world with music blasting in his ears as he jumped around the room, psyching himself up. He was more like a snake hiding in the grass. Quiet, patient, and introspective until the cage door closed behind him and it was time to strike.

Reid nodded at Scotty, who then called for the person to enter.

Assuming it was one of his teammates wanting to hang out in the room with him, he didn’t look up. But at the first sound of the man’s voice, Reid’s head snapped up to see his father standing in the doorway, wringing his gray plaid cabbie hat in his hands.

“Hey,” Stan said before clearing his throat. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know I was here, so…”

Scotty ripped the roll of tape off and secured the end with a few hard pats. “You’re all set, Andrews. You’ve got about a half hour or so.” Glancing at Reid’s dad, he added, “I’ll tell your corner team to wait for you out in the hall.”

“Thanks, Scotty.” He waited for the door to close again before standing and addressing the man who hadn’t come to one of his professional fights before. “Why’re you here, Pop?”

“Look, if you want me to go—”

“That’s not what I said. I just want to know…why now?”

Stan’s defensive attitude leaked out of him, his shoulders rounding forward slightly, his eyes dropping to the hat dying a torturous death in his grizzled hands. After a few moments, the older man sighed, rubbed a hand over the back of his head, and met Reid’s gaze.

“When your mother left, I felt like she ripped the heart from my chest and took it with her. I made up my mind that I’d never love anyone ever again. And I guess that included you.” With heavy feet he walked over to one of the couches in the room and sat down. “I was so goddamn angry at her, and looking at you was like…”

He shook his head as if to tell himself not to finish that thought, but it was obvious what he’d been about to say. “I guess I thought if I was hard enough on you that you’d prove my theory right and give up…just like she gave up on us.”

Reid straddled the chair he’d been in earlier again, afraid that without its support, he’d collapse from shock. Never in his life had he thought he’d ever have this conversation with his father. Though he’d always suspected the cause of his father’s actions, to hear it directly from him was almost surreal.

Strength seeped into his father’s stocky frame, and with his jaw set and his brown eyes locked onto Reid, his resolve was palpable. “But no matter what I did, you never quit. And I respect the hell out of you for that.”

Reid refused to acknowledge the stinging behind his eyes, but it was much harder to discount the cracking of the ice that had entombed his feelings for his dad for so many years. “Guess I take after my father in that respect.”

His dad swallowed thickly and blinked a few times until the moisture that had momentarily covered his eyes was no longer there. Then he stood and placed his now-wrinkled cap on his head. “Maybe the next time you’re in town, we can go grab a beer or something.”

A social outing with his dad? The mere idea was baffling. When he didn’t answer right away, the man strode toward the door saying, “Or not, whatever. It was just an idea—”

Reid quickly swung himself off the chair. “I’d like that.”

Stan pulled up just short of the door and looked back with something that almost resembled relief, but then covered it with a stiff nod in Reid’s direction. “Good luck tonight.”

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