The press conference yesterday took its toll on me, but having the chance to be with Frankie after so long was exactly what I needed. That connection. Her. To make me feel alive. If even for that little while in her arms, nothing and no one but us and those kicking ass babies. Shaking my head and smiling, I bring my focus back to the here and now.
Today is the weigh-in and tomorrow the fight. The. Fight. The biggest one of my career. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ll defend the title from here on out once I win it. This first bout to take the strap and the title that goes along with it is the most important. In the two weeks that I’ve been here training, I’ve gotten myself in a better place. I’m focused, dedicated, and though I’m missing Sonny, feeling his absence deeply, I can hear him. When I’m training, I can envision him standing there with his arms crossed shouting orders at me. My mind instantly picks up on things that Leo says that I’ve heard Sonny say to me a million times. Before all of this, I never realized just how much alike Leo and my brother were.
I see the two of them off to the side discussing strategy and I feel Sonny’s presence. I was afraid to leave the gym in Chicago because it felt like I was leaving Sonny behind. Like those walls held all of the things he’s ever taught me, and as long as I was there, so was he. It was me grasping at straws, I see that now, but I still find myself searching for signs of him in everything I do. I’ll never let the memory of my brother go. I’ll take him with me always. I’m just slowly learning to live again and I have Frankie to thank for so much of that.
“Where you at, bro? You look like you’re a million miles away,” Mav says, slapping me on the shoulder, sitting down next to me.
“Nowhere. Just thinking about Sonny,” I admit.
He looks away, lost in his own thoughts. “He was so damn proud of you, Deac. He rode your ass hard because he knew.” Mav puffs out a little laugh. “I think you were about seven, in the gym just messing around with Pop, when he first realized. We were standing there waiting on Pop to finish with you, and Sonny said to me, ‘I betcha ten bucks Deacon goes pro. He’s way better than you and me. I’ll be his trainer. You can be the towel boy, Maverick, because you hit like a pussy.’” We both laugh at that. “He was eleven and already bossy as hell.” My brother shakes his head, the sad smile on his face mirroring my own. “He never gave up on you. You were always the one angriest about mom leaving. I think you invented trouble to get into just so you didn’t have to be so mad at her. And every time you got yourself in a scrum outside of the Cage, Sonny would tell Pop, ‘Go easy on him; he’ll learn to control it, Pop—we’ll teach him.’” Mav looks over at me, “And they did.”
My eyes a little watery with the onslaught of emotions, I look up at him with a cocked brow.
“Well . . . kinda,” he teases to lighten the mood. “Now let’s go weigh your ass in so that we can eat. I’m fucking starving.”
“Between you and the Princess, I’ll be lucky to make weight. You must be having sympathy cravings or whatever the fuck they’re called,” I joke as we walk over to where Pop, Guy, and Leo are talking.
My dad looks up as we join their circle and grins, “You boys ready?”
“Yeah, Pop, we’re ready,” I answer.
“Are we stopping at the hotel so that you can change first?”
“Nope. Why?”
“That’s what you’re wearing?” He flicks his hand at me.
“Sure am, Pop. Why change now?” I say as I run a hand down my “God wears a manbun” shirt.
“I hope you have children as ornery as you are, son.” Pop walks away chuckling, like the mere idea thrills the shit out of him, which makes my brother and I smile at each other. My dad hasn’t had a whole fucking lot to smile about.
“That’s just mean, Pop. I’m telling Frankie you put that evil on her,” I call after his still-laughing ass.
The amount of people in the room where the weigh-in is being held is staggering. I’m not sure how many people, just that there are a fuck-ton. Derek doing the best he can to accommodate Frankie, whom he has a soft spot for . . . not that I blame him, makes my life a lot easier. Under normal circumstances, I like to have her in my sights. Now with her being pregnant and with my emotions all over the fucking place, I need her around more than ever. As long as I can put eyes on her, I’m good.
Standing at the side of the stage with Mav, I watch as Saul makes his way out to a cheering crowd. He has a massive number of followers here today. No surprise since he’s had an incredible run, especially lately. He has taken down every opponent he’s come up against in the last year. I smile to myself when I think about how I’m gonna end that streak.
“Dude’s cocky, but he has a right to be, Deac. He’s a shit talker too, but it’s good for publicity, so let him do it. Just makes it that much sweeter when you beat his ass in the Cage,” Mav tells me.
I nod in agreement, scanning the crowd for Frankie. She’s sitting, hands rubbing her belly, listening to something her dad is saying. They call my name and she turns her attention to the stage and then to the stairs when she doesn’t see me. Smiling, she blows me a kiss and gives me two thumbs up. Her smile could light up a fucking room. It wrecks me and puts me back together every damn time. I throw her the sign language symbol for “I love you,” just like yesterday, as I make my way to the scale, and watch that smile brighten even further. My girl’s a sucker for sweet shit like that—I’ll have to put that one in the “get you laid” column.
“Stop making googly eyes at Frankie and give me your damn clothes, lover boy,” Mav tells me, holding his hand out.
Reaching over my shoulder, I yank my shirt off and toss it to him, followed swiftly by the rest of my clothes. The cheers in the room drown out everything else as I step onto the scale. They quiet when they announce my weight of two hundred and forty-two pounds, exactly where Rude Awakening weighed in. Mav meets me at the scale and starts handing me articles of clothing to put on as I amble over for my photo op.
Derek shakes my hand and then places an arm in between Saul and I as we faceoff. All is fine, his shit talk not fazing me in the least. I let him work himself up into a frenzy and smile for the cameras, pissing him off even more. This just might be my favorite part of all this. Well, except for getting that win.
Stick and move. Stick and motherfucking move.