What the hell is wrong with me? Mase is right, I’m being selfish. Carter gave me everything I needed when I was broken and grieving. And what did I do when all he asked was that I stay? I walked away.
Mase said Carter was going into the fight with no reason to come out. I was afraid to ask what he meant by that. But his words repeat in my head, it’s make or break time. I was still processing his words when he lost his shit and told me off before hanging up on me.
So I’m sitting here on the edge of my bed trying to get my head straight once and for all. Do I still love Carter? Yes. I always will. I’m certain of that. And that’s when I make my decision, the decision I should have made when I chose to turn my back on him.
Looking at my watch, I know there is no way I’ll get there before the fight starts, but I’ll make it before it’s over. Grabbing my phone, I call Mase. I think it’s going to go to voice mail but he answers it just as I’m about to give up.
“What C.C.? Kinda busy here, girl,” he says distractedly.
I swallow, “I know, I’m sorry. How is he?”
“Do you really care?” he shoots back.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mase. Tell him I’m sorry, and that I’m coming. I’m getting in my car right now,” I tell him.
The sound is muffled for a minute and I assume he’s covering the mouth piece then he speaks, “Are you sure about this? You can’t run out on him again, C.C., I don’t know how the fuck he’s keeping it together as it is. If he sees you’ve come then you take off, that’s it, it will be over.”
I lick my lips and nod even though I know Mase can’t see me, “I’m sure. I’m coming. Can you make sure I can get in?”
“Yeah, I’ll sort it. Come to the back entrance, I’ll have someone waiting for you. Look, I gotta go,” Mase says, then the line goes dead.
My heart is in my throat and I don’t know how I’m going to drive. I jump in my seat when someone knocks on my window. I roll it down and see Kass standing there, hands in his pockets, remorse filling the air around him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have said those things about Carter. I guess I’m still a bit messed up about everything Dad went through,” he swallows and runs his hand through his hair, “You going to the fight?”
I nod, but I can’t speak. My twisted up emotions are clogging my throat, making speech impossible.
Kass eyes, me then seems to come to some kind of conclusion. “Move over, I’ll drive,” he says, opening my door and shoving me until I scramble over to the passenger seat. “It’s the least I can do, and I need to apologise to Carter as well.”
Clicking my seatbelt in place, I wring my hands together. I’m relieved I’m not the one behind the wheel right now, that’s for sure. I’d probably end up causing an accident. “Thank you,” I mumble to Kass and he nods in response, keeping his eyes on the road ahead as he drives.
I check my watch every couple of minutes, hoping time will slow down, allowing me to get there before it ends. Luckily traffic isn’t too bad, but it still feels like it’s taking forever to get there.
Thirty minutes later, Kass drops me at the back entrance to the arena. “I’ll go park somewhere and meet you in there when I can,” he says, as I fling the door open, getting ready to make a run for it.
“Thanks,” is all I get out before I start sprinting for the doors that will lead me to my man.
A big burly dude stops me when I try to push through the heavy door, “This is a restricted area, ma’am.”
I don’t have time to tell him that I’m in my early twenties and that is way too young to be called ma’am, so I blurt, “I have to get in there, my boyfriend’s fight already started.”
Recognition lights his eyes, “Sorry, Miss Haynes, didn’t realise it was you,” he says as he scans a card at the side of the door then pushes it open for me. “Go straight down this hallway, take the second left, and you’ll find Arnold. Tell him who you are and he will escort you to your seat.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I gush, then take off, following his directions. When I find another big dude, this one bald, I pause, “Arnold?” He nods. “I’m Chance Haynes, you’re supposed to take me in.”
“Of course, Miss Haynes, this way,” he tells me, then starts down another long passageway, “When we reach the crowd stay behind me, it’s pretty hectic in there right now.”
I swallow, feeling apprehensive for the first time since I realised what an idiot I was for sending Carter away. My hands tangle in the back of Arnold’s black T as he pushes his way through throngs of people cheering and yelling. I poke my head around his side and catch a flash of skin flying through the air in the ring. My eyes widen when I realise that was Carter being tossed around like a ragdoll.
“CARTER,” I scream so loud my throat hurts, but I can’t stop. “Get up, baby! Get up!”
Arnold leads me to a front row seat that’s partitioned off from the rest of the crowd, and I climb up on it so I can see better. Carter is down and his opponent has him in a headlock, “Carter, get up, baby!” I scream again.
Carter blinks slowly, as though he can’t believe it’s actually me he’s looking at, so I yell again, “Come on, baby! Get up for me, Carter! GET. UP!”
Something changes in his expression, then in a flash of movement their positions are reversed. Carter is now pinning his opponent in a position I can’t even begin to describe, but it looks painful. The crowd cheers. CRUSH ‘IM, CRUSH ‘IM, CRUSH ‘IM, they chant. Then the referee begins the count again, and I can feel my heartbeat in my veins as he slaps his hand on the mat three times, signalling the end of the round.
I’m a little shocked when Carter extends a hand to help the other guy up before they back into their opposite corners. I can’t focus on the act for long as I notice a big gash that cuts through his left brow, blood trickles down the side of his face, and his lip is busted too. My eyes roam his body, cataloguing his injuries. Split brow, busted lip, back eye, red welts blooming on his right side.
Trick squirts water into Carter’s mouth as he talks to him, and I watch Carter swirl the water around before spitting it in a bucket. Then his eyes meet mine again, and he mouths, “My second Chance,” and I feel his words as though he’s right beside me, despite the distance separating us.
I smile and nod back, but before I can say anything, his attention is pulled back to the moment, and the next round begins. I catch site of Mase standing beside Trick in Carter’s corner, then someone I didn’t expect to see steps up beside them as they engage in a heated discussion, all the while keeping one eye on the ring.
My eyes flick from Carter, bouncing around the ring on his toes, to Trick, Mase and, I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it, but Cole. Then it hits me, the resemblance between Cole and Trick is uncanny. I don’t have the luxury of telling Cole off for being a sneaky bastard right now as the sound of bodies slamming together pulls my focus back to the ring.
The whole time, my heart is in my throat, I feel every hit he takes, and cheer with each one he blocks or dodges. But when his fists, knees or feet connect with the other guy, I can’t stop myself from flinching. I try not to, I do, but with each one he lands, my stomach turns further and further into itself. I manage not to vomit though, so I’m counting that as a win.
This continues for two more rounds, and by the end of it, both men are bloody and bruised, heaving for air. I have no idea what the outcome will be. I don’t know how points are scored and from where I’m sitting, it looked like they were pretty evenly matched in skill and agility.
I hold my breath as the ref comes to stand between them, taking their wrists in hand he pauses, then lifts Carter’s arm into the air, proclaiming him the winner. I jump back up onto my seat and cheer for him. He shakes his opponents hand briefly, then ducks out of the ring and rushes toward me.
Tears fill my eyes when he wraps his hands around my hips and presses his lips to my stomach, before lifting me in the air then throwing me over his shoulder as he strides out of the arena.
He carries me through a labyrinth of walkways and into a room with his name on the door, then slams it behind him before dropping me on my unsteady feet. I blink up at him, “I’m sorry,” I start, but that’s as far as I get in my apology, as Carter covers my mouth with his and backs me against the door.
My hands tangle in his sweat drenched hair and I cling to him.