Fuck, I can’t believe I was so careless.
I dropped my guard. Like they’ll accept me? Fucking nobody does. They’re watching me, guarding what I learn. Like the saying “Keep your enemies closer. . . .”
And I fell like a love-starved puppy begging for a damn bone.
Because of Reese.
And He’s with me.
And blue eyes and six freckles now.
And smiles that fire me up.
Fingers that feel soft.
A cheek on my chest.
And secrets about her dark days and her new ones.
And my favorite ass in the world.
I don’t want to have anyone.
I don’t want to need anyone.
I don’t want to feel anything.
I don’t want to feel like this.
I want to be alone.
Me, Tate, the ring.
But even with Reese miles away, she’s with me more than ever. When I fight the fight, she’ll be in my head more than ever.
And chances are, I won’t be the guy she’s rooting for to win.
I turn off the water and towel off, pull on a pair of sweatpants, grab a jump rope, and take it on with a vengeance.
? ? ?
IT’S PAST MIDNIGHT and I crave her voice like I crave nothing else. I dial her phone, get the voice mail. And listen to it like a junkie, Hi, this is Reese. I can’t come to the phone but leave a message. . . .
I leave no message. But I text:
He’s gone.
I toss my phone aside and shove my rope back into my duffel and drop on the bed, then punch my pillow and plop to my stomach, hating that all that’s left of him is in me.
FORTY-TWO
THE DARK AVENGER
Maverick
New York is rainy today. I’ve been back since noon, and I’ve spent the afternoon tossing the stupid tennis ball against the bathroom wall of my room until I catch it, crush it until it’s flat, then toss it away. I head to my phone, go online, and spend a half hour on the airline sites. Then I text my mom a message. The only woman I’m sure roots for me, since I’m not sure whose side the woman I love is on.
Fighting the champion tomorrow
I just emailed you an airline reservation
If I win, I’ll always regret you not being there to see it
And I’m going to win, Mom
Come to my fight
I look up Reese’s number, and my finger pauses. The thought of her takes pieces of my brain. I’m simmering inside. I sigh and drag a hand down my face. I won’t back down. I can’t lose.
I won’t lose.
I have one chance to see if I’ve got it. One chance to bring it to this one fight.
But what if winning means hurting her?
Who’s my girl rooting for?
The Tates are her family. They treat her well—give her love, support, and acceptance.
My dad did none of that, and I was still with him. How can I expect less of her and the Tates?
I’m still going to prove that I deserved the Black Scorpion’s time, his attention, his respect.
I’m still going to prove to myself that I am good fucking enough.
I’m going to be accepted by the whole goddamned world even if I wasn’t accepted by my own dad.
I’m going to be a legend.
And a legend will never be gone, even when six feet under.
And a legend gets the girl.
A legend wins the girl.
I’m a fighter and I’m fighting tomorrow night.
But fuck my life, I don’t feel like fighting when I think of my girl not backing me up.
I grab the tennis ball again and try to give it shape, frustrated that I can’t, when there’s a knock on the door.
I set it down and open, and Riptide stands out in the hall.
I stalk back in the room and leave the door open behind me, then watch him from across the room as he shuts the door and follows me inside.
“I’m sorry about your father.”
I shrug. “Yeah, me too.”
He seems to feel the need to specify: “I’m sorry for you.”
I lean on the wall and cross my arms. “I’ve been alone my whole life. I don’t need anyone to win.”
“Yes you do, and you have her. Reese let us know the day you left whose side she’s on. And it sure as fuck ain’t mine. She’ll be in her seat on the front fucking row on your left. Right next to the woman I love, who will be cheering for me.”
I clench my jaw, my chest expanding painfully as I process this. “She said that?”
“Crystal clear. And I respect that.” He nods, then shoots me a warning look. “I won’t make it easy for you tomorrow, Maverick. I’m bringing my A game.”
My fighter instinct engages, and I push away from the wall and brace my feet apart. “I’m bringing all the game I’ve got.”
He grins then, and we’re back—our competitive juices flowing. He raises his fist, and I instinctively take a step forward and raise mine. We bump knuckles. And it’s on.
It’s. Fucking. On.