On the morning of the biggest fight of my life, I woke up with an achy body, a fist that still hurt like hell and a hollow heart.

Since the fight in the hallway, I’ve been staying away from Crystal. Sometimes, while I was training, or watching the other fighters, I would catch a flash of blonde hair, or swear I heard her voice calling to me. Except when I would turn to find her, Crystal wouldn’t be there.

Still, I knew she was working in the background for my career. While we hadn’t met up face-to-face, she’d sent me an e-mail detailing a contract with Fub. I wanted to pinch myself, and celebrate with her, but I didn’t reach out to her, and after awhile, she’d stopped trying to get me to come to the Lujo.

I knew the reason for it. The reason slept soundly in my bed with her son, while I camped out in my hammock.

Our son. Fuck. I needed to get that through my mind to my core, but somehow it still hadn’t set in that I had a kid.

I’d installed a hammock inside the cabana and had been sleeping in it since Marta had moved into the place like it was her right. I had no interest in Marta romantically in the slightest, and I needed to make that clear as day to her. I was still having a hard time processing that she had hid the fact that we’d had a kid for so many years, but even more so, I’d lost all interest in anyone else besides the woman who had become my obsession. Now, she was the obsession I would never get to have.

I quietly threw on my training shorts and gym shoes and hit the dusty trail. As my feet beat down on the dirt and my breathing increased, my thoughts weren’t on the fight with Toro tonight. And this was not good, considering the visualization strategies I’d learned from Julio were what I considered to be the key to my victory. For all the cocky swagger I displayed for the world to see--my ridiculous antics and my intimidation tactics, they were nothing more than a smokescreen. I was much more calculated in my training than everyone thought. More than any other training component, I always had a sharp mental edge over my opponents.

And today, I was the most distracted I’d ever been before any fight, let alone the biggest fight of my career.

No matter what I tried to think about, my mind wandered to the girl who was soon going to be just another one I used to know if I didn’t act fast.

The last few days had been a trainwreck emotionally for me. I guess I didn’t realize how much my emotional well-being impacted my physical training until it was gone.

“It” being Crystal.

I’d never been a man to rely on a woman for validation, but I couldn’t deny she’d filled me up in a way I’d never experienced before with any woman. I still couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly. That damn southern charm of hers? How she caved totally to me when we fucked?

We’d talked about how I’d corrupted her; how her pussy was ruined by me.

But thinking about it now, even I had to admit it seemed the other way around. I was fucking ruined for other girls after having tasted Crystal. Fucked. I couldn’t go to anyone else and love them as much as I loved her.

I usually felt the adrenaline rush before a fight. But the sun was barely up and I was already feeling so anxious I was nauseous.

I cut my run short, and still wearing just my training shorts and no shirt, I jumped on my motorcycle and headed to the one person who might be able to get me out of this psychological mess.

* * *

“You’re just in time,” I heard Julio’s voice from inside his hut, just as I was seconds from knocking on the door. “Come in.”

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Julio was in his kitchen with his back toward me. “Good to see...er...good to be with you again, Julio,” I said.

He turned toward me, a tea kettle in one hand and a gourd with one of those metal straws in the other. He shuffled toward me until he was an arm’s length, and stopped. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever felt you this stressed before. Have a seat, Connor.”

“How do you know I’m…”

“I can smell it. Hear it. Your mana is more off than the first time you came to me. Have a seat.”

Asking Julio how he already knew was futile. He was like a sniffing drug dog, except he could sense a man’s aura. I had no idea how he did it.

As I sat down in a seat next to him, I smiled briefly at a passing thought: Crystal would have been blown away at Julio’s ability to sense my mana. Except she wasn’t here. She was locked up in her hotel room where she refused to open the door for me.

“She’s not here, Connor,” Julio said as he poured the first pull of tea into the gourd. He sucked the liquid into his mouth and then spit it out. “The first pull is always too strong,” he informed me.

“I know how to drink maté,” I reminded him.

“I’ve put a few calming remedies into this one, for you. The fight is tonight. How do you feel, aside from the anxiety?”

I took a deep breath as he handed me the tea to take a sip. “I’ve gotta level with you, Julio. I feel like absolute shit.” I sucked down the bitter tea and handed it back to him. The warm liquid felt good coating my esophagus. I realized I hadn’t even taken a drink of anything this morning. All of my good training habits had went out the window this week, my mind was such a wreck. “Everything has exploded this week. I don’t know how it all happened. I was on such a high before everything went to shit on Monday.”

Julio scrunched his face up as he took a pull himself of the tea. I didn’t doubt that for every one of his wrinkles, he’d dispensed ten time that amount of wisdom. “Is this about your girlfriend, or the one they say is your son?”

I wrapped my hand around the hot wooden gourd, and stared at the man in disbelief. “Alright, now how the hell did you know about that? Don’t give me any of this maná bullshit.”

For once, I saw the man’s serious expression crack a slight smile. “It doesn’t matter, Connor. We need to get to the root of the matter at hand. Time is short.”

My heart beat harder. “What do you mean? For the fight? That it’s tonight?”

“What advice do you seek?” He was always the direct man, but today, it was as if he was being even moreso short and to the point. He even seemed older from the day we’d seen each other when I introduced him to Crystal.

I took a deep breath. I just needed to get it all out. “What the feck should I do? I got Marta telling me I’ve got a son. I’m trying--God knows I’m trying--to be a father to the boy now that I know I have one. But I’m fucked for fighting! I can’t get Crystal out of my mind. There’s something about her fecking mana I can’t get off my mind. Christ, she’s got a body I could wrap my arms around all day, Julio. Eyes like the Irish sea, blonde hair, and this ridiculous good girl southern charm. And sure, she’s a good girl in public, but you should hear some of the naughty shite she says to me beside! Why, last week she told me she wanted me to--”

Julio cleared his throat. “Enough. I understand. And, you forgot to mention she’s got a voice that can melt mountains.”

I smiled, thinking how Julio had added in the one sense I’d forgotten. Crystal’s voice was damn sexy, that sweet bright tonality of hers. In my mind’s ear, I spaced out to what she’d sounded like screaming name beneath me. But she wouldn’t be doing that any more.

“Connor. Connor!” Julio said my name a little forcefully, and I was taken aback because he rarely spoke in any tone other than one that exuded total calm.

“Aye, she’s a beauty. She’ll never have me back, though. I’ve tried and tried. I can’t bang on her door any more. Plus, I don’t think she even ever loved me.” I swallowed, and those last word cut right to my heart, which felt like it jumped up in my throat. Numerous women had told me they wanted to make a life with me, but I had never felt like it was right, until Crystal.

He seemed to look at me with his blind eye dead on. “I suppose it’s time to throw in the towel, then,” he said. “Unless…” his voice trailed off.

I raked a hand through my hair, confused as I took a sip of the tea for my turn. “Unless what?”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re sure the child is yours.”

“Why would she lie?” My heart began to beat harder. I’d never even considered the fact that Marta could be making something up. Why would she come to me after I’d been on the island already for fifty five days? But if Julio was asking, my curiosity was piqued, too.

“Just a question,” he answered. “Your mana is weak, I can sense that. If this girl is important to you, think of her like a fight. You want to exhaust all the angles--all the possibilities of getting her back.”

“Yes, exactly,” I said. “How do I do that?”

He finished off his pull of tea, and when he poured mine, the kettle ran out after he’d filled up the cup. He handed the warm gourd to me without saying anything.

“With all respect, Connor, I can’t answer that for you. You’ve got to be the man now. I trained you five years ago, but now, it’s all up to you and how you choose to act.”

I sucked down the warm maté. The hot liquid was a lot less strong than when I’d begun to drink it. I looked out the window at the strong morning sun pulling up in the sky. The fight was at seven tonight, and fast approaching.

“Thank you,” I spoke as I handed him back the gourd.

Juilo stood up, a signal for me to leave. I stood up with him. “Goodbye, Connor,” he said. “And good luck. I can already feel your maná is stronger.”

I looked at the man. For all the coaching he did for me years ago, I still couldn’t tell if the man was just bullshitting me about the damn maná. Was this just a positive thinking tactic? Did he really believe it?

I nodded to him, turned and walked out the door.

Julio was right, though. My maná was feeling better. I opened and closed my hand--it was still sore as hell.

I would get Crystal back. I would figure this out. I just needed her to open the damn door for me. And I needed to do it soon, before she left first thing tomorrow.

* * *

The cameras were everywhere backstage, before the fight. Blinding, light in my face everywhere I walked, reporters from all over. I’d kept such a low profile over the last couple of months, I wasn’t even keeping track of the numbers and the hype like I usually did. I’d been so wrapped up in Crystal, I’d been more off the radar than usual.

I sat in my own dressing room, so I at least had some privacy for the moment. I winced as the trainer wrapped my hand. At least it was my left--my jabbing hand--and not my right. Nevertheless, I was going to be fighting an uphill battle against Toro. If I were one-hundred percent healthy, it would still be a pretty even fight. Now, he had the physical edge on me, though I hadn’t told a soul about my little encounter. I’d try to pretend I was at full strength for as much of the fight as I could.

“Enough, enough,” I barked at the trainer who I’d been assigned by the network. Without Jeff or Crystal, I felt totally alone. Marta had elected not even to come to the fight--she didn’t want to see me get my ass kicked, she said. Some supportive woman she was.”

A producer from the Pay Per View network popped his head in right as the trainer put the finisher on my wrap.

“McGrath, we’re at thirty minutes to fight time,” he said. “You have your face-to-face with Toro for the cameras in ten.”

I nodded, my jaw clenched. “Get the fuck out of here,” I growled at the trainer. His eyes widened and he walked out without saying a word.

The time was here to get in beast mode. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and started my pre-game meditation ritual.

Ten minutes later, I walked out of the training room in my fighting shorts and a black muscle tank top, a cocky smirk on my face.

The second I was outside the door, I was bombarded by reporters from all of the major networks.

“Mr. McGrath, is it true that you attacked Toro at the club as a pre-fight intimidation tactic?” some guy barked, and I walked right past him without saying a word.

“What’s this about you having a secret baby on the island?” a woman reporter yelled, trying to shove a microphone in my face. I walked right past her, too.

“Mr. McGrath, I’m Tracy Phillips, Huffington Post. If the projections hold, the ratings for tonight’s fight are the highest of any MMA fight in history. How does that make you feel?”

I stopped, turned to her, and smirked. “Pretty fecking great.”

I weaved through the sea of reporters and made it to the circle so they could record us doing our usual pre-fight trash talk. Toro stood on the stage with his typical, ugly, menacing grin, and Dick--my arch fucking nemesis--flanked him with a shit eating grin on his face.

The crowd hooted and hollered from the stands as the announcer introduced us both. I was used to being the fan favorite--but I had to admit the crowd noises seemed dead even between the two of us. I scanned the crowd looking for my girl. She was one of thousands, sure, but I’d pick her out anywhere.

She was nowhere to be found.

“How’s it feel to be a dad,” Dick snarled at me from just outside the circle.

I scrunched up my brow. “The feck did you just say?”

“Oh come on,” he scoffed. “You really aren’t too bright, are you. Marta. Alfonso. You fell right into our hands on that one, boy. Guess that Irish noggin has taken one too many hits over the years.”

My adrenaline, which was already high, spiked as I put two and two together. “You motherfuckers!” I snarled, and the announcer had to step between the two of us again.

I tried my best to take deep, breaths. But this shit was fucked. I needed to get to Crystal. I needed her now. Corny as it sounded, I needed her mana during this fight if I was going to win. Those fuckers had just revealed their secret a smidge too early. I guess I’m not the only one who can be overly cocky here.

Toro had the microphone and was trash talking me in a combination of English and Spanish. I wasn’t even listening to him, though. All of my energy was spent with a laser focus on the crowd, looking for her.

“Connor, your turn,” the announcer said in a big voice. “You’ve got less than fifteen minutes until the biggest fight of your life. How would you like to respond to Toro, the only man you’ve ever fallen to in the ring?”

The crowd began a slow but steady chant. “Con-Nor, Con-Nor!”

I took the microphone and spoke into it. “I’ll be right back.”

The crowd buzzed with curiosity as I sprinted off the stage.

“Are you pussing out that easily?!” Dick yelled. “You’re not back in twenty minutes and that’s a forfeit, you know that right!”

I ignored him, hurried out the back door and ran to the hotel, which was a couple of blocks down from the arena.

I ran inside and hit the elevator button, when my two new best friends from Fub walked by.

“Hey young man,” the old man spoke in his grizzled tone, holding the hand of his wife. “We were just about to watch you on the TV. Aren’t you supposed to be at the fight?”

“I, uh, yeah.” There was no time to explain. “Hey listen, have you seen my...girlfriend?”

“You mean that cute southern blondie?” his wife chimed in. “Sure, she’s at the bar. She’s got the hat on.” She gestured toward the hotel bar. Crystal was wearing a white dress bottom with a pink shirt and a pink hat. A few bristles of her blonde hair poked out of her hat.

My heart pounded out of her chest and I beamed as I strode up to her. “Princess,” I boomed behind her.

She swiveled around on her barstool, her eyes wide as hell. “Oh lord, what are you doing here?! The fight starts in five minutes! And we can’t...”

Our eyes locked and I smirked ever so slightly as I closed the remaining space between us. I was raw, sweaty, and dirty. She was pristine, classy, and smelled like fresh fucking sheets. My cock twitched just at her fresh scent that I’d been deprived of for days.

She jumped down off the stool, but before she could go anywhere I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into me.

“Let me go, Connor!” she breathed, her tone faulty, like she was trying to convince herself she didn’t want me any more.

“It was a ruse,” I croaked.

“A..a ruse? What was a ruse?”

“Marta. Alfonso. The whole thing. Dick had her make it up to fuck with me.”

“You...you’re sure?”

“Those assholes told me their plan, a tad too soon. Crystal, I need you in there with me. Or at least...I need to know we’re good.”

The TV was blaring, and the talking heads started blabbing. “Connor McGrath has four minutes until he forfeits! I’ve never seen anything like this!”

I didn’t flinch. She looked up at me with those sparkling blue eyes. “You have to go.”

I squeezed her hip, and she let out a whimper. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you trust me. I need you for this fight. I need your mana.”

“My mana?” She said the words with a slight southern accent, and I wanted to bend her over the bar and make her purr more words.

“Forget the mana. I just need you.” I kissed her hard and ferocious--not just wanting her--needing her. I’d been starved for Crystal and what she did to me. She reciprocated, squeezing her arms around my bare back, and I knew she needed me as badly as I did her.

When I let up, she breathed hard. “Connor, we’ve got to get you to that fecking fight.”

I grinned widely hearing her attempt at an irish accent. “You’re fecking right.”

We jogged out the hotel doors and down to the arena. I had Crystal walk in with me to the ring, and when we did, the crowd went wild.

I jumped in the ring, and Toro was already talking shit. “Thought you finally pussied out, McGregor. You’re going to wish you did after the ass-whooping I hand your pasty Irish ass.”

I didn’t say shit. I was done jabbering, ready for my fists to do the talking.

The bell rang. We danced in the ring for a just a few seconds until I swooped to miss a kick, and took a punch to the head.

I went straight down to the mat in a limp mess of limbs.

This was not the way to start the fight of my life.