Four months later

Manchester

 

“Take five, ladies!”

The women on stage faltered in their dance steps when Cinzia meandered through the tables clapping. Beautiful Trauma by P!nk continued playing in the background.

“Bettina, you have a visitor.”

“Who?” Bethany gasped in between breaths. She walked around the stage waiting for her pounding heart rate to slow down. She placed her hand on her forehead like a visor as she squinted against the glare of the stage lights.

Cinzia went to the sound system lowering the volume.

“Hi, Bethany.”

Bethany froze at the voice.

“Lissie.”

Felicity emerged from the shadows wearing a floral summer dress in blues and red making her hair fiery. Her sunglasses were propped on her head. She had her hand over her stomach bump.

“You’re pregnant,” Bethany exclaimed. She jumped off the stage and embraced her friend. She was very happy for Lissie and Oliver. “Congratulations! How long gone are you?”

Lissie blushed, her smile widening. “Six months.”

“That means—”

“Right about the time you left town? Yes. I didn’t realise it until after my third month. Weird huh?”

“Can’t really say.” Bethany laughed softly, becoming wistful. “They call it morning sickness but I had mine in the afternoon at 4:30 on the dot.”

They both giggled before Bethany gestured to one of the tables.

“Sorry, I’m all sweaty. The girls and I were going through a dance routine,” Bethany said as she snatched her towel from a nearby table and wiped the perspiration off her face and neck.

“We never got to learn burlesque dancing and with my bump…” Lissie looked down with a rueful grin.

“There’ll be other times.” Bethany waved her hand, still puffing from the cardio she had just subjected to. “How’s Oliver taking it?”

“He’s ecstatic! He has more conversations with my belly than with me.”

Bethany’s shoulders shook with mirth, wiping her legs through her fishnet stockings.

“Your baby is going to be spoiled rotten.” Her smile dipped as she placed the towel around her neck. “Why are you here?”

“Is it wrong to want to visit a friend knowing she’s returned?” Lissie angled her head in curiosity.

Bethany’s mouth quirked to one side. “No it isn’t. But how did you know I was back?”

“We still get our flowers from Expectation Blooms.”

“Ahh…” She looked down at her hands. “Cinzia.”

“No, your dad, actually. I passed by and saw him so I asked where you were.”

“Dad couldn’t wait to get back and work.” Bethany’s mouth twitched.

She remembered the moment they decided to leave Newcastle. It was the day after they had watched the news and saw that Andrew Tabler was en route to the US to be tried for his involvement in money laundering for terrorism. The Drake’s gym was also mentioned but was cleared of any involvement. Bethany had breathed a painful sigh of relief. She was happy for Drake. Cora had smiled at her sadly, rubbing her arm and nodding. Her father had been happy to get back to Manchester and work. He became so excited even Amara started whining, asking him to chill.

Lissie reached for her hand across the table.

“How have you been? Are you alright? I mean, really?”

Bethany swallowed hard through the lump in her throat. She was suddenly nervous.

“I will be,” she said. “I’ve been here before…just a matter of returning to a different kind of normal.”

“Oh Bethany.” Lissie let go of her hand as she leaned back on her chair. “Would it matter if I told you Drake hasn’t been himself when he left Newcastle?”

Bethany refused to rise to the bait, but she was desperate for news of Drake.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said instead. “Like you said, he left.”

“No, Bethany. He didn’t,” Lissie replied gently. “Did you see him leave?”

She shook her head. “I told him things, Lissie. Things that has destroyed the way he looks at me should we happen to bump into each other. I didn’t wait and see how badly I broke his heart.” She chuckled. “Cowardly, huh?”

Lissie kept silent, her eyes filled with sympathy.

After their blow-up, Bethany never heard back from Drake. Not once did she receive a phone call from him. He didn’t text either. It was as though he wanted to close that part of his life with her. Bethany understood why yet she had been tempted so many times to call him. She didn’t. How could she face even talking to him after what she’d done? The oceans of the world couldn’t compare to the distance that had risen between them. She had eventually told Amara about Andrew Tabler but not that he was her father. 

For about a week, Amara had been quiet and Bethany knew her daughter had been crying in hiding. And then it was gone. Amara started talking again but her humour was drier, more subdued. She buried herself in books and home schooling.

Every night since she and Drake broke up, Bethany cried in the bathroom before going to bed with Amara beside her. It didn’t take long before Amara was comforting her as her tears started patching up the painful cracks of her heart and soul.

“How did you know?” Bethany asked taking the edge of the towel to wipe her upper lip and brow.

“Oliver told me. My husband is at his wits end trying to stop Drake from killing himself.”

“What?” Bethany’s eyes rounded. “What do you mean?”

“He’s gone back to the ring. Fighting.” Lissie shook her head. “Oliver has gone to the gym several times trying to talk him out of it but Drake can’t be dissuaded. He doesn’t even rest in between fights. He just keeps training.”

Why would Drake do that? Worry burned a hole in her gut churning acid.

“Can you talk to him?”

“Sorry?”

“Talk to him Bethany.” Lissie urged. “He will listen to you.”

Bethany shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me. I broke his heart remember?”

“But you’re the only one he loved.” Lissie said.

“And you know this because…”

Lissie flushed. “He’s been to our flat so many times and gets roaring drunk. That’s when he starts talking until Oliver has to help him to his own flat.”

“Oh my God.”

“He isn’t over you, Bethany.” Lissie’s smile was soft. “I don’t think he ever will be.”

“I don’t know…”

“Are you over him?” Lissie peered at her.

Bethany lowered her chin. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Then go to him.”

Bethany exhaled looking around to find the words. “I don’t know, Lissie. I’m afraid of what he’s going to say. What can happen.”

“Bethany.” Her friend leaned forward and squeezed her hand again. “Isn’t it high time that you stopped running?” She paused. “I can understand why you ran the first time. I would too if I were in your place. But this is the man you fell in love with. And he loves you. Why would you run away from something that just so right?”

Bethany kept quiet.

“If you love him, if you want to have a life with him, fight for both of you. You’re a strong woman, Bethany. You brought up Amara on your own despite what was thrown at you. This is just another obstacle course. A harder one but the rules are the same.”

“And if it fails?”

Lissie smiled. “I don’t think it will but if it does, I’m giving Drake a dressing down.”

Laughter spurted from Bethany’s throat.

“Felicity Cray, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Lissie arched a brow. “I just don’t show it often.” She grinned then sobered. “I’ll leave the decision to you but I hope that you speak to him before he kills himself in his next fight.”

Bethany’s stomach plummeted.

“When is his next fight?” her voice croaked.

“Tonight.”

 

*  *  *

 

Adrenalin pumped through the audience’s chatter. The make-shift bar at the back of the warehouse saw brisk business. Plastic cups were passed as fast as money exchanged hands. Seats surrounding the empty cage looked like the benches in a Roman amphitheatre.

Overhead was a large screen zooming on the still empty cage for the viewing pleasure of those seated far away. Blood sport, 21st century style. It wasn’t any different from the time of the gladiators fighting for their lives during the Roman Empire.

Bethany shuddered as she inched her way to her seat. Lissie had given her an envelope with her ticket to the fight. Oliver had paid for it. The seat was close to the ring, all the better to see Drake.

Apprehension was like sludge through her system, tricking her mind to believing she was slower than a turtle. She just hoped that whatever she was about to do was worth it. Her heart drummed a beat enough to cause her to lose her breath.

She had to admit, though, that a bit of the excitement and anticipation of those waiting for the fight to begin was contagious. It was also diluting her anxiety like some IV drip to take her out of lethargy’s grip. She clamped her lips together stifling her grin.

“You’re in my seat.”

Bethany looked up, her face sobering. Three men crowded the aisle making her suddenly claustrophobic. They had bulk, more fat than muscle. One of them looked as though he had a smaller shirt that couldn’t cover the bottom half of his huge belly poking out beneath the shirt’s hem. She checked her ticket.

“Oh…but my ticket says this is my seat number.” She showed the man her ticket.

He snatched it instead, tearing it.

“Hey!”

He leaned forward, his breath smelling of stale alcohol and old gum.

“That’s my seat, bitch.”

Bethany reared back like she’d been slapped. Fear immobilised her before her pulse started skipping.

Never again.

“My friend paid for this seat.” She snapped. The conversations around them dimmed as the rest of the audience became more interested in what was happening nearby.

“Move out of the way…bitch!”

“Don’t get out of your seat, Bethany.”

Bethany craned her neck to see the person speaking to her. The three men spun around.

“Oliver…” Bethany whispered, relieved. There were two other men with him. One looked Eastern European with huge muscles and tattoos. The other man looked familiar. Broad shouldered and also muscular, his icy glare was directed at her three would be bullies. Bethany wracked her brains trying to remember where she had seen him but couldn’t place him.

She gasped and watched with bated breath when the man shoved Oliver backward. Oliver stepped back but didn’t fall.

“She’s in my seat because I say so!”

“She’s in that seat because I paid for it and you didn’t.” Oliver replied quietly. He looked calm and composed, the ticking muscle in his jaw the only sign of his anger. He placed his arm around the man. “C’mon I’ll find you and your mates other seats.”

“Who the fuck do you think you arwwwwww…” The man suddenly fell unconscious to the ground. Oliver removed his fingers from the side of the man’s neck and straightened. Those around them were agog.

“Now if you boys would like to go the same way, my friends behind you are happy to oblige.” Oliver brushed his hands together, his eyes wide with emphasis.

The two men ran away, leaving their friend behind. The Eastern European and his companion bent down and dragged the unconscious man away.

“You okay?” Oliver spoke into her ear and looked at her in concern. The conversations of the spectators resumed once more.

“I am now.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Did you know which seat the ticket had?”

He shook his head. “Chaps bought it and gave it to me.”

“Then how did you know which place to look?”

“There’s always been a detail following you.”

“Detail?” she asked in confusion. “What detail?”

“Why do you think Drake knew where you were?”

“Drake told me that. That’s why he found me. How long has this been going on?” She stared at him with incredulity.

“Only after you suddenly bailed after encountering Andrew Tabler in Clique.” He paused. “It’s what Drake would have wanted when you disappeared. He was going out of his mind with worry.”

Bethany’s gazed at a point by Oliver’s ear, her cheeks burning.

“Lissie came to see me at the club.” She glanced back at him. “Told me about what was happening to Drake. Though I did tell her also that I didn’t know how my presence was going to help.”

Oliver pursed his lips as he nodded. “He’s doing this because he believes he’s lost you. That you don’t want him back that’s why he’s killing himself booking fights left and right. Is that true?”

Bethany let out an exasperated huff. “He left me, Oliver. It wasn’t the other way around. I told him the truth and he didn’t listen.”

“He did Bethany. He listened.” Oliver’s grin was sardonic. “You can’t expect someone to recover so easily after the bombs you dropped.”

Her heart sank. “You know about that too?”

Oliver pursed his lips in regret. “Nature of the job but I can tell you it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t expect to find intel on you. Your name just happened to crop up when my team started looking at Andrew Tabler’s past.”

Suddenly the crowd rose from their seats. Bethany felt as though she and Oliver were in a field full of tall thick grass moving violently.

“Aiden will be here to keep you company.” Oliver shouted above the din while pointing to one of the two men behind her seat. Bethany angled her head so that her ear with her hearing aid could get what Oliver was saying.

The man with the familiar face stepped forward. His eyes twinkled with humour and appreciation. That was it!

Bethan pointed at him.

“Newcastle.”

Aiden groaned slapping his forehead.

Oliver smirked. “Losing your touch, Kane.” Then at Bethany. “You weren’t meant to notice him.”

Oliver’s attempt to lighten the mood worked. Bethany’s mouth curved upward.

“Help Drake, Bethany. I know that he still loves you. I believe you feel the same way.”

Bethany looked away, her pulse thundering in her ears.

Oliver’s face cleared. “He just doesn’t know how to get you back.”

Bethany worried her bottom lip. She wanted to salvage whatever she and Drake had. Not having him in her life for the last four months was like losing a piece of herself. The colours of her world were dull. The sounds, muffled and discordant. But she didn’t know how to go about it in the first place.

“Talk to him after the bout.”

“Can’t you talk him out of it?” She watched Oliver’s lips.

Oliver shook his head. “Afraid not. If he doesn’t fight, he forfeits all that he’d worked hard for. Whatever he wins in this fight is going to his fighters’ pensions. That’s all he’s focusing on to keep sane.”

“How will I find him after?” She angled her better ear once more.

“Aiden will bring you back stage.” Oliver answered. “I’m going to stay with Drake.”

“Okay,” she shouted when another wave of applause and shouting passed through them. “I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.” Oliver squeezed her arm in reassurance before he was swallowed by the crowd.

Bethany looked at Aiden.

“Are you going to stand there? Or are you allowed to sit beside me?”

Aiden’s smile widened showing perfect white teeth. “My seat’s just behind you.”

She nodded and sat down the same time she exhaled. All of a sudden the light around them dimmed and the lights aimed at the cage brightened. Everyone jumped to their feet. The roar of the crowd was deafening and she was pulled into the euphoria of the impending fight. The fighters came out of the curtained enclosure. The crowd went ballistic. Bethany stood, craning her neck so she could see between the heads that blocked her vision. The emcee announced the fighters. She gasped.

Drake’s face was fiercer, harsher. He glared at his opponent like he was hell bent on ending the guy’s life. The klieg lights about him showed every cut and plane of his well-tone body. He looked like a statue hewn from expensive wood, smooth and sharp at the same time. Her body woke knowing that the man who owned her was nearby. Still, Bethany’s heart sank at the dead coldness in his eyes. The same eyes that warmed with amber fire when they had reached ecstasy together. She saw the tatt of her name on his left pectoral. Pain lanced through her chest bringing back the huge ball of guilt inside her heart.

Drake was painfully beautiful.

How could she get through that?

Drake and his opponent were dressed only in their shorts. At the referee’s signal they bumped fists and circled each other in earnest.

Bethany watched Drake with bated breath. Watched his eyes focus, looking for a way to catch his opponent unaware. In less than a blink, his opponent’s hand shot forward, catching Drake straight in the eye. Bethany’s hands shot up to cover her mouth. Drake staggered back but crouched in an instant to tackle his opponent around the waist, pushing them both forward. But after three steps the opponent dug in. No longer moving, Drake’s leg suddenly swiped his opponent’s leg and pinned him down. The crowd roared in approval. Others heckled and jeered. The referee watched and waited. Drake was on top, his opponent had his legs around Drake’s waist while he covered his face with his arms.

“Drake…” Bethany couldn’t stop saying his name.

Drake started punching his opponent’s arms, the thighs around his waist. On the ribs. The legs loosened allowing Drake to roll away.

They stood circling each other again until Drake charged at his opponent, pushing him against the cage and started hitting him. The crowd went wild. Drake took two steps back and jammed his foot squarely against his opponent’s chest. His opponent doubled. Drake tackled him back to the floor and held him in a vice while using one hand to deliver punches to his opponent’s face. But his opponent was able to get the upper hand and brought a jab up to Drake’s chin.

Drake fell back and the tables turned. Now Drake was under his opponent.

Bethany screamed, her voice drowning under the power of the crowd.

Drake covered his face with his arms, taking blow after blow.

“Stand up, Goddammit! Stand up!” she screamed.

Suddenly Drake stopped the fist coming at him and pushed his opponent’s arm back and at the same time rolling them both. He was back on top. He punched his opponent’s face from the side. Then another. And another.

The crowd screamed. 

The bell rang.

The referee pulled Drake away from his opponent who rolled slowly on the mat before trying to sit up. Drake kept on going around the octagon, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. From Bethany’s vantage point, she saw the rim around his eye becoming an angry red bruise and blood dripping from his nose and cut lip. His body shone under the lights and sweat dripped down his chin on to the mat.

The referee stood and declared Drake the winner.

Pandemonium filled the warehouse. Bethany could hardly hear herself think despite her heart leaping at Drake’s victory.

Drake looked at his opponent’s bloodied face. His face hardened. Still he embraced his opponent, patting his back before stepping back, staggering towards the side of the cage.

Instinctively, Bethany got out of her seat and ran to the cage just as Miles rushed to Drake’s side. Miles produced a stool for Drake to sit on.

Shit.

Bethany couldn’t get through. A crowd had gathered to where Drake was.

“Excuse me…” No one listened to her. She was jostled aside. “Please…”

Still no one gave way until Aiden arrived. He gripped Bethany’s arm and shoved the bodies in front of them.

“Hey arsehole!”

“Move away.” He placed his face so close to the man in the crowd that they were nose to nose. He glared. “Don’t tempt me to haul your arse inside the ring and do a round with you.”

The crowd backed away.

“Thought so.” Aiden smirked before winking at Bethany. “Go.”

Bethany squeezed his hand in gratitude and rushed through the space watching Miles wipe Drake’s face and put liniment roughly around his eye. Her eyes watched Mile’s lips, straining to read what she couldn’t hear.

“Don’t look at the blood,” Miles snapped. “Look at me. You won. That’s all that matters.”

“Nothing matters, coach.” Bethany watched Drake’s lips. “Not this fucking fight. I’ve lost her.”

“Snap out of it, Drake, you hear me?” Miles shouted in Drake’s face. “You’re not a quitter. You’ll find a way.”

“Bloody hell, Coach! Stop the pick me up bullshit. She’s not coming back!”

“I am!” Bethany reached them. “I’m here!”

Miles looked up in shock before a grin spread.

Drake sat still, not acknowledging her.

“Drake, I’m really here.”