Single Dad on Top: A Baby and Clueless Billionaire Romantic Comedy by JJ Knight (39)

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Love, JJ Knight

Chapter One

I can take this guy.

The screaming of the crowd is a dull background roar as I circle the floor of the fight cage with Farmhand.

He’s new to this level of competition. In his pregame interview, he said he would step on any karate kid who got in his way of qualifying for the pro leagues.

Not today.

My MMA name, Power Play, didn’t come from some suit with a marketing plan. I earned it with a fighting style my trainer likes to call “Coming from nowhere.” I make them get lazy by appearing to have a pattern in my kicks and strikes.

Then I take them down in one surprise move.

Farmhand is strong, but his kicks have no finesse. He tries to deliver a sloppy roundhouse, so I grab his knee and twist him to the ground like flipping a baby gator.

He jumps back up, though. He’s got some stamina.

Unfortunately he’s about to try the same lame trick. His tells are louder than a Vegas sports coat. He shifts his weight, eyes on the spot he’s aiming for.

Before his shinbone can even land the strike, I have him on his belly, arm behind his back, in a submission hold that you can break free from only if your legs are stronger than mine.

And his aren’t.

To make doubly sure the ref will call the win, I deliver three hard knee strikes to his ribs. If Farmhand doesn’t defend himself in this position, the ref will end the fight even if the lughead refuses to tap out.

I hold and wait, sweat dripping from my forehead. My arms are shaking, but Farmhand is pinned, and I’m not letting go. He’s already gone a round longer than I planned for. I knee-strike again.

The crowd erupts into cheers. The ref has called the match. I roll away and stand up.

Farmhand’s pissed. He thinks he could have stayed in. His face is red and mottled as he screams at the ref. His trainer jumps in and drags him to the corner.

Tough loss, baby.

The ref lifts my arm, and Brazen, my trainer, runs up the stairs and into the cage.

This arena is decent. The purse isn’t bad. I turn from one side of the stands to the other, pumping my fist in the air. It’s my moment. The training, the struggle, the crazy schedule. It’s all for this.

The spotlight crisscrossing the crowd catches on a head full of blond curls. Somebody’s dragged a kid to the match. A little girl. She’s up on some guy’s shoulders and screaming with glee, caught in the excitement.

My throat tightens. My own daughter, Lily, called me two nights ago, asking if I was coming to her birthday party this year. She’s about to be four, and I didn’t fly to see her when she turned three.

The crowd is still going, but now I’m lost in the numbers. What will be left of tonight’s money? Can I get to New York to see her?

While everyone hollers and snaps pictures, I run figures in my mind. Pay Brazen. Cover the crew. Make a payment on the new equipment. Rent and personal stuff.

Then there’s that lawyer I have to pay after the damn situation with Colt and Jo. That alley fight that nearly killed them both. Stupid, getting involved in that.

My stomach drops. It won’t be enough to take off a few days and fly across the country.

Despite the win, I feel crushed. Maybe it’s time. Give up the dream. Do something that pays regular. With fewer expenses. Where I can have insurance and boring shit.

And get to Lily.

Brazen claps me on the back. Farmhand’s trainer forces him to come forward and shake my hand. He glares at me from a swollen eye. I haven’t made a friend today, that’s for sure.

I follow Brazen down the steps and along the red carpet back to the dressing rooms. The medic will want to look at the cut over my eye, which gets reopened every fight. That’ll cost me.

I love this life. Love fighting. Love the highs and even the lows. I know I’m lucky.

But I haven’t seen Lily in almost two years.

As we turn down a back hall, my post-win buzz drains like a toilet flush.

LA to New York is a hell of a trip. Not only expensive on its own, but I have to miss a fight and an income if I go. This amateur league always schedules last minute. It’s impossible to plan anything.

But my little girl is thousands of miles away.

And she isn’t going to be little much longer.

Brazen holds the door open to the dressing room.

I hear a chorus of “Parker!” Several friends are already inside the room, drinking. They shake my hand, say congratulations.

But all I can see is a little head with raven-black hair. She didn’t have a lot of words last time I saw her, but now, when I talk to her on the phone, she says whole sentences. Has entire ideas.

She sounds like her mother. Maddie.

Damn, my thoughts are dark tonight. I look around the room, trying to shake the blues.

Some girl is talking in the corner, her back to me, and for a terrible moment, I think it’s Maddie. She has the same fall of black hair down her back. The same slender frame.

But of course it isn’t. Maddie wouldn’t give me the time of day even if we were in the same zip code. Which we aren’t. Even if I wish we were.

Biggest mistake of my life, letting her go.

The medic shoves me on a stool and wipes blood from my forehead. The sting of it helps me stay grounded even though I can’t stop thinking about Maddie.

She was the only girl I ever cared about. And the one I screwed up the most.

Now she’s gone to New York, following her own dream of working for a big fashion designer. With my Lily.

“You’re good,” the medic says. “You can hit the showers now.”

I nod at the new influx of people who surge through the door. It might be my win, my party, my moment. But it feels hollow.

Something has to change. Something has to give.

What good is a life you love if it doesn’t have the people you love as part of it?

Chapter Two

The after-party is still raging hours later when I decide to take off from the bar.

Two girls have been watching me, waiting to make a move. I saw them early on, the way they tried to catch my eye, crossing and recrossing their legs.

One has short brown hair. She’s with another girl, but the friend is just support for her mission. Despite spending the whole night leaning over the rail by the dance floor, she never has worked up the courage to come over.

Which is fine. Tonight I’m too damn distracted for women. And that’s saying something.

The other girl is Cassie, a hyper bottle blonde with implants she clearly wants people to notice. Her cleavage is hypnotic, pushing up from a low-cut shirt like it’s her superpower.

I wave at some of the other fighters who have gathered. Most of us get along fine, no matter who has been pummeled. Farmhand isn’t among them. I’m anxious to leave, to think, to plan. I want to call my friend Colt, or somebody else in the business, to figure out how to get my expenses down. Or my income up. Or something. Maybe I can move. Join a circuit on the East Coast to be closer to Lily. Stupid New York still has a ban on MMA, but there’s Jersey and a few other places just a train ride away.

But that means starting at the bottom again. Crap purses. Small venues. Bad deals. I’ve gotten past all that only to find another glass ceiling. I have to make the pro league. I have to step up my game.

The cool air outside is a blessed relief after the stuffy club, loud and crowded. The gravel crunches beneath my boots. Maybe I can do like Colt and ride a motorcycle instead of driving a car. That’ll save over half a grand a month. That’s a plane ticket right there.

I weave between rows until I spot the stupid red Porsche. This car pisses me off. I bought it in a fit of feeling inferior after a girl — a stupid girl — laughed at my Honda. I guess she expected a Maserati or something.

Ha. Not at my pay grade.

But I went out and bought the damn thing. The payments are killing me. Then it got a massive baseball-bat-sized dent on the back corner outside the arena one night. No telling who did it. I can’t tell my insurance about it or they’ll raise the rate. I have to pay to fix it out of pocket.

Damn it. I can’t enjoy anything.

I hit the remote to unlock the door and hear a footstep. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I whirl around, already in fight stance, ready to take on whatever’s back there.

But it’s just Cassie.

Great.

She drops her shoulders back to make sure her silicone DDs are well displayed. Her blond hair shines in the night. Hell, maybe I will take her home.

“I wasn’t quite ready to leave the party,” she purrs, sidling up to me, boobs first.

How can she do that? Make her chest enter a zip code ahead of the rest of her?

I lean back against the door of the Porsche.

“I like your car,” she says. “Do I get a ride?” The smirk on her lips tells me the double meaning is intentional.

Decision time. Brush her off or let her in?

I glance over her outfit. Thin white silky shirt, clearly showing off the goods. No bra. The nip in the air makes that clear. Short skirt. Spike heels, but she manages them well even on the gravel.

My phone buzzes.

“You don’t want to take that now, do you?” She makes her move, pressing up against me.

I shrug. Not sure who would call me at one in the morning after a fight. Still, just to piss her off, I tug the phone from my pocket.

It’s Maddie’s number.

I push Cassie off me and stride briskly away as I answer the call with a quick “What’s wrong? Is Lily okay?”

But the voice isn’t my ex’s. It’s soft and high. “Daddy?”

I halt in the gravel. “Lily? What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

“My teacher read a scary story today.”

My heart begins to slow down. “So you can’t sleep?”

“I think there’s something under my bed.”

In my peripheral vision, I can see a pissed-off Cassie standing with her hip jutting out.

I ignore her. “You want to know what Daddy does when he thinks there are monsters under the bed?”

Her voice is a loud whisper. “What do you do?”

“I get off the bed very carefully. Very quiet. Then I sneak over to the light switch. And I TURN THE LIGHT ON REAL FAST.”

She giggles. “So you can see them?”

“Oh, no.” I lean against a tree on the edge of the parking lot. “Turning on the lights makes them run away. They are afraid of little girls and if they see one, they get as far away as they can.”

“Daddy, you’re silly.”

“Didn’t you see Monsters, Inc.?”

“Yes.”

“And who were all the monsters afraid of?”

“The girl.”

“See? You going to try it?”

“Okay.” Her voice gets a little muffled as she moves.

I look over at my car. Cassie is still standing by it. I can tell from her body language she’s getting fed up. I’m apparently supposed to give her undivided attention. Whatever.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I’m going to move the chair so I can reach.”

“That’s my smart girl.”

I hear a dragging sound. I wonder if Maddie is sleeping, and why Lily called me instead of going to her.

Maybe she has a man over.

My stomach roils. Of course she would. Men always follow her around. I crunched more than my share of jaws over her when we were together.

But that’s the whole thing. She’s funny. And smart. And always had these huge dreams.

I am just a big dumb fighter.

Getting pregnant seemed to make her stronger. I had a cage match when she was about six months along. One with big winnings. The sort of thing you can build on. 

I had this idea that after I won, I would propose to her. It would be this dramatic moment. Huge win. Roaring crowd. Cheers. Maddie, all teary with happiness.

But I had gotten cocky and challenged someone over my head.

And I got creamed. Broken jaw and two cracked ribs.

Maddie left. Just bolted like a startled deer. Said she couldn’t take it. Her aunt lived in Queens. So she moved and finished college up there.

I wasn’t even around when Lily was born. Had no way to get there. No money. No way to do it.

If I could change things, if I could go back in time, I would hitchhike. I would walk. I would sleep on benches, eat at homeless shelters, and find a way.

But back then I had this stupid ego. This attitude that I had a big future ahead of me and she was trying to ruin it.

And so I let her go.

The phone makes a strange rustling sound.

“Lily? You all right?” I ask.

More rustling. I panic, picturing Lily taking a fall.

“Parker, is that you on the line?” Now it’s Maddie talking. Lily must have gotten caught.

“Yeah.” My pulse speeds up just hearing her voice. At times like this, I’m glad I haven’t seen her in two years. Nobody wants to constantly be face-to-face with their screwups.

Maddie is and will probably always be my one true heartache.

Lately, when she talks to me, before or after Lily has called, I hear this funny note like maybe she feels it too. 

It’s there now. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s late. I don’t know why Lily called you.”

“Dads make better monster chasers, maybe.”

Maddie laughs a little. “Probably so. Especially since you’re the big tough one.”

The trees overhead shake with the wind, sending leaves showering down. It’s fall, the same time of year we met. I rarely come up on the first chill of the season without thinking of her.

“I need to get Lily back to sleep,” Maddie says. “I really am sorry she called you so late. She can be sneaky with my phone.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “Anytime.”

“Well, goodnight,” she says.

She’s already clicked to end the call by the time I can manage my own “Goodnight.”

I shove the phone in my pocket. Damn. What a screwed-up world.

“So…You all done now?”

I had forgotten about Cassie.

I whirl around. “Gotta run. My daughter needs me.”

“You got a kid?” She looks disgusted.

I move past her to the evil Porsche. “Yeah, I do.” I jump inside without a second thought.

Cassie steps back, and gravel spins out from the wheels as I take off out of the lot.

I don’t need that sort of distraction. Women like Cassie tend to be expensive, wanting fancy nights out, gifts, all that junk. I need to focus. Fix car. Sell car. Buy motorcycle. Get my career on some sort of real path.

And get my ass to New York.

Chapter Three

Buster’s Gym is crazy packed the next morning. Saturdays bring out all the weekend athletes as well as the serious trainers who don’t miss a day.

Buster himself sits behind the desk, his bald head shining like he just polished it. I run my hand over my burred hair a little self-consciously. Most fighters have shorn heads for practical reasons. The few who don’t have some sort of image they are trying to portray. I keep things simple.

“Power Play!” Buster says. “Good to see you. Nice submission win last night. This one lasted two rounds.”

He would mention that straightaway. Normally I sink an opponent in Round 1. “Yeah, he’s got a future.”

“He won’t be climbing over you in the ranks, though,” Buster says. “Not after that.”

“He might improve.”

Buster nods. “Might. Colt’s in the back. Jo’s got a whole crew of cute girls. Just a heads up on that.” He winks. “I know you have an eye for pretty fighter girls.”

I force out a clipped laugh. Everybody still ribs me over my old crush on Jo. I didn’t even get a single minute with her before Colt snagged her back. Of course, if I’d known they were a thing, I never would have even looked at her twice. Colt was somebody you didn’t make an enemy of. Although I’d tried my damnedest.

That was past.

I stride through the weight room. A half-dozen lifters are working out. I always like the smell of Buster’s, lemony, like somebody has just come through and cleaned everything. Nothing like a typical gym.

Colt’s in the cage, sparring with a partner. I pause by the door to watch. He’s already defended his light heavyweight title twice since winning it a few months back. Nobody can tell now how close he came to dying.

For a minute I flash back to that night, doing CPR on his chest in the alley behind the gym. Jo looking like she might pass out again any second, gamely trying to keep pressure on his belly with her one functioning arm.

I probably won’t ever look at Colt again without picturing that night and the part I played in it. I’m damn lucky I have any career at all after that. That we are friends.

“Hey, Parker!” Jo calls out. She’s got three girls doing caveman throws, the sandbag weights thudding to the floor in tandem.

“Hey, Jo.”

“Grab some gloves. I’m sure Colt will want to pull you in.”

I dig through a basket of gloves at the corner of the mat.

I watch Jo’s form from the corner of my eye. She’s tiny, but pure strength. Fiery. For a while, Jo had one of the most promising starts of any female fighter the league had seen in a long time. But after the attack on her and Colt, she just quit.

I often feel responsible for that. I’d been there. Been a part of it.

“Yo, Power Play!” Colt calls out from the cage. “I’m ready to beat that pretty face of yours for a while.”

I turn around. Colt pushes against the mesh wall.

“Somebody’s already been mashing yours in, I see,” I call back. “Oh, wait, that’s just your ugly mug.”

I make it up the steps and Colt hooks his elbow around my neck. He drags me in a half circle. “You’re going to lose your nose for that.”

“Only if you catch me first, old man.” I wrestle loose and kick my shoes to the base of the cage wall.

The sparring coach passes me a helmet and I shove it on.

The girls Jo is working with move closer to the cage. I guess they want a show. Why the hell not?

I bounce in place, warming up. Colt looks a little fatigued, but he outclasses me on pretty much every skill, so exhaustion probably barely levels the playing field.

“Whatcha got?” Colt says. “You just going to stand there and bat your pretty eyelashes?”

“I like to play with my toys before I crush them,” I say.

“I’d like to see you try.”

I shift like I’m going for a roundhouse kick. When Colt moves to block it, I switch positions and instead land a bruising jab to his ribs.

He doesn’t budge, but his hand drops in defense. I think I have a nice chin shot set up, but he sees that coming a mile away and bats it away. Before I can think through my next move, I’m off my feet and slamming to the mat on my back.

The girls whoop from the floor. Damn it. I can’t go down this fast.

Colt drops on me for a grapple, but I know I won’t last long with him a couple weight classes above me. I manage to roll out of it with a sweep of my leg to his arm. I bounce back up, hopping in place, trying to figure out a move that will get me anywhere.

“Colt!” Killjoy, his trainer, presses into the wall of the cage. “Office. Pronto.”

Colt jerks off his helmet. “What for?”

“Lawyer.”

Colt nods grimly. Jo snaps to attention at the mention. She says something to the girls and waits for Colt to come down the stairs. She seems so tiny compared to the mammoth fighter who takes her hand.

I pull off my helmet. I wonder if the call has something to do with me, or the others who were part of the attack. Striker, the fighter who hired the guys who shot Colt and Jo, has managed to get his trial postponed twice on technicalities.

 One of Jo’s girls stands timidly at the base of the stairs. She’s lean and strong, frizzed-out hair tied into a puff of a ponytail. Cute.

“You want the cage?” I ask her.

“You leaving?” she asks.

“I can.” I head for my shoes.

One of the other girls shoves at her and says something I can’t hear.

“No!” she says suddenly, then ducks her head, like she hasn’t intended to be so emphatic.

I grin. “No?”

Her dark eyes widen. “I mean, no, I want you in the cage.”

The other girls giggle behind her.

“Oh, really?” I ask. “Right here? With an audience?”

Her face burns bright red. “No! I mean…not that!”

I cross my arms. “You want to spar? With me?”

She looks relieved. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”

I push open the cage door. “Well, come on up, then.”

She slips up the steps in bare feet. I peg her as early twenties. I have no idea how long Jo’s been training her, or if she has any skill. She doesn’t seem to be trying to sidle up to me for a date or anything. In fact, she’s pretty shy.

“Camryn!” one of the girls calls out.

The girl stops and looks back.

“Gloves!” Sammy, Jo’s main fighter girl, tosses a pair up to her.

Camryn catches one, but the other lands on a step. She bends down for it. Poor thing. She seems terrified. But she’s screwed up enough courage to ask me to spar. I wonder what her game is.

Camryn isn’t the first girl I’ve worked out with in a cage. The women who show interest in me tend to fall into one of two camps. Fawning roadie girls like last night’s blonde, all cleavage and makeup. Or fighters wanting to train.

But this one strikes me as different. Both types of girls tend to be pretty bold. Camryn seems easily startled. But she’s in the cage now, clumsily strapping on the gloves.

“So it’s Camryn?” I ask her.

“Camryn Eventide,” she says.

“You got a fight name yet?”

She shakes her head.

I point to her yoga pants. They stop just above her ankles. “We’ll call you High Tide for now,” I say. “Just so I can do some trash-talking.”

She laughs, and it isn’t a girlish giggle at all, but a full throaty sound.

I like her.

“Have you sparred before?” I ask.

“Not really.”

“Well, take it easy on me,” I say. “I’m just a big lug.”

Another throaty laugh.

I could get used to this.

I walk to the center of the ring. “Ready?”

She heads over to me. “What happens first?”

“First, I insult you.” I look her over. “High Tide, you look like you have the stamina of a one-legged flamingo.”

One more laugh. I could listen to that all day. I circle her, gloves up. “Whatcha got, High Tide?”

Her face gets all serious. “Your mama pick out those tattoos, Power Play?”

The girls clinging to the outside of the cage hoot their approval.

Yeah, I totally dig this girl.

“You all talk or you going to throw a punch, High Tide?” I ask. “If you can reach.”

She drops into a fight stance. 

I’m pleased. I need a little lighthearted fun. This is perfect.

I wish I knew something about her, anything. I rarely come over to Buster’s. Most of Jo’s girls are a blur, other than Sammy, since she’s doing matches now.

I keep my movements very clean and focused, basic and readable. She spots my first jab and blocks it. She’s strong and capable.

I shift in the circle, setting the speed. She moves with me, still all defense, her eyes bright. The girls on the floor cheer for her.

“You going to try something?” I barely get the word out when she attacks, a whirling dervish of flying arms and legs.

I block each blow, amazed at her speed and agility. It’s something we heavier fighters lose as we build mass. I wasn’t lying when I said I was a big lug. Compared to her, I am.

But size has its advantage. When she gets close enough, I grasp her waist and flip her over on her head.

I try not to knock her to the floor too hard, but when she gets a solid elbow to my chin, I pin her flat.

“This is called an armlock,” I say. “There’s pretty much no escape from it.”

Camryn breathes heavily against the floor. “It sucks.”

I let her go. “Try never to get in it.”

“Easy for you to say.” She rolls onto her back, shaking out her arm.

I laugh. “That’s right. Thou shalt never get in a submission hold.”

“Moses left that one out.” She looks up at me with her dark eyes, and I see the interest there.

But the position makes me picture Maddie, her long black hair pooling around her head, me lying over her.

I sit back on the floor of the cage, my mind whirling. Camryn is the sort of girl I’ve always imagined meeting. The sort of girl I’ve looked for.

So why am I thinking about Maddie?

Jo comes back in the room and claps her hands. “What’s going on in my cage?” she calls out.

Camryn jumps up instantly. “I think I just got pinned by Power Play.”

The other girls giggle.

“A position a lot of girls find themselves in,” Jo says, cutting her eyes at me. “Gloves on. Speed reps. Line ’em up.”

Camryn hurries out of the cage to follow the others. Jo climbs a couple steps. “Did you want to talk to Colt?” she asks. “He’s back in the office. You can catch him.”

I peel off the gloves. “Thanks.” It’s hard to look at her. I still get embarrassed about that night I met her. My friend Lani prodded me to come on strong, that she knew Jo liked me. I know now it was all part of a game Lani was playing. But it’s still hard to face.

“Hey,” Jo says. “You okay?”

“I’m all right,” I say. “Just trying to figure out my next career move.”

“You’re doing great.”

I reach for my shoes. “That’s what everyone thinks.”

She stares out the big windows at the top of the walls for a minute, seeming sort of sad. “I hear you on that.” Then she shakes herself out of it and heads toward the girls, who are all beating on the speed bags.

I wish I knew her better. But after our history, maybe it makes sense to keep my distance. If I remind her of that terrible night when Colt almost died as much as she reminds me, then no doubt looking at me is the worst part of her day.

Chapter Four

Buster’s still out front by the door. I pass him for the hallway to the office. Colt is inside, sitting at a desk covered in paperwork. He leans back in the chair, lost in thought.

I knock on the doorframe. Colt waves me in. There isn’t any other chair, so I just step inside.

“Everything all right?” I ask. I don’t really want to know what’s going on with the lawyer, especially if it involves me. But I have to say something.

Colt shrugs. “Just a little thing with Jo’s old family,” he says. “Nothing big.”

I knew Jo was recently brought up on charges for attacking her stepbrother before she came to LA. “I thought all that got dropped.”

“They are suing me in civil court now. Anything for money.” He pushes papers out of his way. “They’ll lose. Or I’ll pay them off. It doesn’t matter either way. Just details.” He spots a poster of himself and grimaces. “We should use this for darts.”

I look down at the image of Colt in his gold championship belt. It’s an advertisement for the gym. “A hundred points for nailing the family jewels?” I say.

He laughs. “Now that’s a real sport.” He shoves the stack to one side. “So what’s up?”

“I could use some advice.”

He leans back and waits me out. I’ve got his attention.

I’m not sure how to bring this up. Nobody knows about Lily. I don’t keep it a secret, but I don’t go around talking about it either. 

So I just say it. “I have a daughter.”

This gets him. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Really? Here in LA?”

“Nah. Her mother took her to New York.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So you going to move? New York doesn’t allow official fights.”

I lean against the wall. “I know. And I don’t want to start all over. But hell, the flight and the time off to see her. I just can’t do it much.”

“How old is she?”

“She’ll be four next week.”

“Gonna grow up soon.”

“I know.”

We fall silent. Colt stares at the wall. Finally he says, “I have some contacts over there. There’s East Coast leagues. And unofficial fights too. You want a match on that end so you can score a purse while you’re there?”

I think of Maddie’s reaction to the last match she attended, when she was six months pregnant. Her hysterical face. Her hands, clutching her swollen belly as if every hit I took was somehow a blow to the baby.

I shake my head. “Not yet. I’m selling my car to make this trip. But probably I’ll need something later.” If I can get set up over there, if Colt can help, maybe I can skip a few steps and not start at the bottom of the barrel.

“Damn, selling your car?”

I shrug. “No choice. I missed her last birthday.”

Colt blows out a long stream of air. “I can front you some cash.”

I hold up my hands. “Not necessary. But I could use some introductions.”

“Consider it done. I’ll have somebody for you to meet. A manager. People who can set up some fights.”

I push away from the wall. “That sounds great. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

When I look at him, once again I see that night, the back of the gym, the sirens in the distance. His blood all over Jo’s hands. I’ll never unsee it. But we don’t talk about that. I just give him a half-ass salute and head back out to the red Porsche, which is about to be somebody else’s problem.

Chapter Five

The plane touches down at La Guardia a few days later, and despite the fact that I throw punches at people on a daily basis, I’m nervous as hell.

Maddie already told me on the phone that she can’t take the day off, so her Aunt Delores is bringing Lily to the airport to meet me. I’m anxious. I talk to Lily all the time on the phone now that she can actually have a bit of a conversation. Sometimes we video chat. But still. What if she is shy? What if she doesn’t even know who I am? She was only two when we last saw each other on more than a fuzzy video feed.

I follow the line of passengers down the tunnel. We get held up by a mother trying to open up a stroller and load baby twins inside. I don’t see how she managed to travel so far by herself. She kicks at the bottom latch, clutching a child in each arm. Everyone seems content to just watch her and not help, a few squeezing past to keep the line moving.

I drop my duffel bag to the floor and wrench the stroller open. “You’re a brave lady, venturing out with double the trouble.”

She bends down to set one of the babies in a seat. “My father died yesterday,” she says. “I didn’t have a choice.”

I don’t ask why she’s alone. I suddenly picture all the things Maddie had to do by herself these four years. Traveling. Assembling toys. Attending to hurts and bad nights and sickness. I’m flooded with regret.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say.

She’s barely holding it together, but manages a soft “Thank you.” The babies get strapped in and she takes off down the corridor toward the gate.

I shoulder my bag again and let a few other passengers cut ahead of me before jumping back in line. Now I’m glad Maddie won’t be out there, because I’d probably say something foolish and embarrassing. The closer I get to the situation, and the more I think about moving east, the worse I feel about not following her in the first place.

I was barely twenty-one, and stupid. Maddie was just nineteen. We didn’t know anything. We didn’t even try.

I’m going to do better from now on.

The flight attendant smiles at me as I make it through the exit and into the hub of the airport. Delores and Lily can’t come into the terminal, but they’ll be waiting down by baggage claim. I step onto the escalator, my anxiety riding high. What does Maddie tell Lily about me? I have no idea. I’m grateful that she doesn’t talk trash, that she hasn’t poisoned Lily against me. I know I deserve it, but Maddie isn’t that kind of woman.

The luggage conveyors come into view. The place is jam-packed with travelers on a Friday. I’m not sure how I’ll even spot Lily in all this mess. I can only hope I’ll recognize Delores from my old visits. Her image isn’t fixed in my mind.

A little girl cries, “Daddy!” and my heart leaps, but some little blond girl goes crashing into the man in desert camo in front of me. A smiling tearful woman follows her and they block my way for a second until I manage to get around.

Where is Lily?

My heart starts hammering. Are they late? Did something happen? Did Maddie change her mind and decide not to let her come? I pull my phone out and realize I forgot to take it out of airplane mode. I fumble with the buttons, hoping there’s a message.

Then something tugs on my coat.

I look down.

Lily’s bright eyes shine up at me. Her hair curls against her shoulders, and her face is pink-cheeked with excitement. She’s the spitting image of Maddie, now that I see her in real life. It’s in the way her smile turns up at the corners, and how her dimples pop.

I reach down and pick her up. She’s substantial, not the walking baby she was at two. Her legs dangle, and her arms are long enough to wrap around my neck. I look at her a second, and I’m so overcome with this beautiful, painful emotion that I can only pull her tight. Her little head tucks right against my neck, and I realize how wrong I’ve been. This sweet, lovely creature belongs to me, and I’ve done too little, way too little, to pay attention. I haven’t tried nearly hard enough.

“I got you a present,” she whispers against my cheek.

I swallow hard, trying to salvage some control. “But it’s your birthday, not mine.”

Lily pulls back and looks at me, then puts both tiny hands on my cheeks. “Mama says your birthday was a long time ago,” she says solemnly. “I missed it.”

“It’s okay, baby.” I squeeze her again and look over her shoulder at Delores. A mass of gray curls tops the woman’s tough and emotionless expression. She hates me, disapproves of my actions. I don’t blame her. She’s the one who had to see Maddie through the worst days of pregnancy, birth, and managing a baby alone.

But she’s here. She brought Lily to me.

I take a few steps toward her, shifting Lily so I can carry her more easily.

“Hello, Parker,” Delores says stiffly. She jingles her car keys. “You ready to go?”

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

She turns away. “Lily wanted to come,” she says.

Lily wiggles her way down so she can walk. She takes my hand, clutching it like I might get away. My chest is tight. I am going to make this right. I have to.

Listening to her on the phone is one thing. And seeing pictures and watching her grow in status updates on Maddie’s Facebook page are another. But this is different. Lily is real, right beside me. And she wants me here.

Everything else starts to fall away. The gym. The fights. The car, the money, the career. This is where I need to be.

I don’t want to leave her again.

Chapter Six

Delores wants to drop me off at my motel, but I convince her to let me take her and Lily to eat at a pizzeria down the street. I don’t want to let Lily go, but I’m more than a little terrified of managing her by herself. I’ll endure the bitter glares of the aunt.

Lily is bouncy and animated, standing up in the booth. Delores tries to get her to sit down and be more ladylike. When I say, “Just let her be a kid,” the woman shoots daggers at me with her steely eyes.

Fair enough. I haven’t had to do any parenting. 

“Do you like your picture?” Lily asks.

Lily has given me a picture of her in a Popsicle-stick frame that she decorated with macaroni.

“I love it,” I tell her.

The pizza is taking forever to come and I’m not sure I can handle Delores glaring at me much longer.

I push a coloring page at Lily. “Let’s turn this monkey into a monster,” I say.

“Like the really scary ones under my bed?”

“Just like those.”

Delores looks away. I add green horns to the head of the cartoon monkey on the page. Lily giggles and gives him a long spiky tail.

“You ready to scare this monster away, Lily?” I ask.

“He’s going to run away fast!” she says.

I draw in a stick-figure girl in front of the monster monkey. Lily adds crazy electric hair.

“You are scary,” I say. “Are you going to write RAWR?”

She sets down the crayon. “I don’t know how to spell, silly.”

My throat closes up. Right. She’s not even four yet. I glance down at her outfit. I assume kids are potty trained by now. I’m around exactly zero children. None of my friends have any. People who get married in my world end up off with their families and disappear.

There’s no telltale diaper bulge in her little striped pants. That part must be over. Another thing Maddie had to do alone.

When I was here two years ago, Delores, probably just to show me how useless I was, handed me a smelly squirmy toddler with the order to change her.

Maddie hadn’t been home. I dug a diaper out of the big bag she always lugged around and found the strange padded plastic thing with little adhesive tabs. Lily squirmed all over the place and I had no idea how I was supposed to clean her up. I used one clean diaper to clear off the worst of the mess, then fastened a second one on. Lily looked down at her belly and said, “Kitty gone!”

I had no idea what she was talking about. When I tried to snap her clothes shut, she got upset. “Kitty kitty kitty kitty!”

Eventually Delores left whatever she was stirring in the kitchen to see what the fuss was about.

“Oh good Lord,” she said, flipping Lily over to show me the kitty printed on her butt. “This part goes in front.” She opened the fasteners and frowned at the still partly sticky baby parts. “Did you clean her up at all?”

She tugged a plastic case from the bag and withdrew a wet wipe. The case wasn’t marked. How was I supposed to know what was in it?

I backed away. I remember thinking that I didn’t have any point in being there. I was just the sperm donor who sent money every month. Lily wasn’t easy to manage, clinging to Maddie and Delores. She seemed bewildered by this big tattoo-covered man who tried to play with her.

I’m starting to feel the same way now, sitting in this pizza place, wondering what will happen if Lily has to go to the bathroom. I assume Delores will take her. I can’t drag her into the men’s. My anxiety starts to rise. She’ll set me up again, I know it. Show me just how worthless I am.

“Write the word, Daddy!” Lily says, poking at the page.

I quickly scrawl RAWR in a little bubble over the girl’s head. Lily picks up the picture to admire it. “I’m going to keep this forever.”

I glance at Delores. She’s looking at Lily with concern. And I get it. Lily is different now, older, and starting to understand the world. Figuring out what she’s missing. It won’t be much longer and her opinion of me will start to match the other women of the house.

My confidence starts to drain. Maybe she is better off without me messing things up.

The pizza arrives. I learn that Lily only likes the pointy ends, and I let her take a few bites from each piece. “Mama makes me eat the whole thing,” she says.

“That’s because just eating the points is silly,” Delores says.

Lily looks to me for a confirmation.

“You can have all my pointy parts,” I tell her.

She lays her head against my arm.

“How long are you staying this time?” Delores asks.

“Until Tuesday,” I say. The party is Saturday, and I hope to spend Sunday with Lily. Then Monday I’m meeting with some of Colt’s friends to try and line up a decent match so I can come again. But I can’t tell Delores that. I have a feeling she won’t approve of the fight.

She’s staring at the tattoos that are visible below the sleeves of my T-shirt. I wish I’d worn something longer, or kept my jacket on. Delores has always had the ability to make me feel like I was bad news for her niece. She’s probably right.

But then it doesn’t matter, because Lily’s head pops up and she cries, “Mama!”

Maddie’s here.

Chapter Seven

Maddie stands by the table, looking me over. I can’t speak. I haven’t seen her in two years, and the changes in her blow me away.

She was always beautiful in a natural way, raven haired, quick to laugh, olive skinned with a big, happy smile. Back in those days, she wore jeans and T-shirts and was just as happy sitting on a street corner cutting up with friends as anything. She struck me as wild and free thinking. And we had been crazy for each other, taking risks, running around the streets of LA like nothing could get to us.

But now I can see the influence of working with that designer. Her hair is magazine perfect, glossy and expertly cut. Everything about her is refined and tasteful. She’s got on a wine-colored suit with a short jacket and fitted skirt. She seems leaner than when I knew her, even before she got pregnant. But maybe it’s her posture, poised and confident, like a model or an actress.

I can’t stop staring.

Lily waves her hands in front of my face. “You okay, Daddy?”

My face burns. Shit. I’m obvious even to a little kid. “Hello, Maddie,” I say.

“I see you made it okay,” she says and slides into the booth next to Delores.

“Easy trip.”

“Good.” She glances down at the pizza and notices the corners. “Are you eating all the tips?” she asks Lily.

“My fault,” I say. “I think it’s cute.”

“I’m cute,” Lily says.

“You are that,” Maddie says. She relaxes a little, and I realize that the dramatic entrance was just her being nervous too. It’s not any easier for her to see me than for me to see her.

“You look well,” she says to me.

Lily runs her hands across my jaw. “He’s got whiskers!” she says.

“Shaving apparently isn’t cool for fighter boys,” Delores says.

“It suits you,” Maddie says.

Lily rubs my head. “But there’s not much hair up here!”

I tug at her long locks. “That’s so nobody can pull it.”

She looks at me solemnly. “That’s not nice.”

“I agree.” I’m trying not to laugh.

“I saw you won a big one the other night,” Maddie says. She’s not impressed. Just making conversation, I can tell. But she noticed. That’s something.

“Not so big,” I say. “But I’m doing all right.”

Maddie slides a piece of pizza onto a plate, shaking her head at the tiny teeth marks on the missing corner. “I’m starving. I had to work through lunch.”

“Are you going to make the target date for the new line?” Delores asks.

I just sit and listen as they talk about her job and the designer’s next launch. I know next to nothing about her world. And it gives me an excuse to look at her.

I try to place this refined, confident woman next to the crazy carefree girl I knew four years ago, and it’s not easy. Even two years ago, she was barely out of college and trying to figure out what to do next. The change is remarkable.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Lily tugs at my hand. “Can we play the game in the corner? Can we?” I look over where she’s pointing. There’s an old-school pinball machine there, lit up with flashing bulbs.

“Sure,” I say.

Maddie and Delores turn to us, frowning.

“Really, Parker? Video games?” Delores says.

“It’s just pinball.” I slide out of the booth. They’re ganging up on me now. This weekend might be torture. I make a vow to stay focused on Lily.

We wind our way to the corner, and despite my determination, I feel my blood start to boil. Why are they making this so damn hard? I’m here to see my daughter. It’s almost as if they want to keep me as miserable as possible so I won’t come back.

I drop quarters into the machine and it comes to life with loud clangs and blinking lights. Lily is mesmerized. I show her the plunger to pull to release the ball. Her first attempt doesn’t propel it far enough to get out of the chute, so I help her. The shiny metal ball starts dancing through the maze, slamming into bumpers that buzz and chime.

The ball starts to fall toward the exit, so I show her the flipper buttons. She lies across the top of the machine on her belly, arms outstretched so she can reach them both. I press her fingers so she hits it in time, sending the ball back up into play.

She’s laughing so hard that it’s hard to concentrate. When the ball falls to the bottom, she cries, “Is it over?”

“Nope,” I say. “There’s still more balls.”

We launch the next one and I take a moment to glance over at the table where Maddie and Delores sit, watching us. I turn back to the game just in time to hit a flipper to keep the ball from sinking again. It falls into a kick-out hole.

Lily presses her face against the plexiglass. “Is it stuck?”

“Watch. It’s going to spit it out.”

The points ratchet up and then the ball pops out to bump around again. Lily squeals, “I love this game!”

I hold her in place as she mashes the flippers. I wonder about all the things she hasn’t gotten to do, things I can show her. I may have missed a lot, but I haven’t missed everything. Even if Maddie can’t stand me, and even if Delores wants to make things difficult, I’m going to prove to them that Lily having her dad around is a good thing.

Chapter Eight

So it turns out, I’m a clown.

Lily’s puffy tear-streaked face appears just inside the door. But as soon as she sees me, she starts laughing so hard that she falls on the carpet and starts rolling around.

Yes, it’s that ridiculous.

Maddie straightens the rainbow wig on my head and steps back. “It suits you.”

Our last-minute costume is the result of Happy the Clown calling in sick, threatening to ruin Lily’s birthday party. When her mother broke the news to her, she holed up in her bedroom with loud awful sobs.

My transformation from fighter to circus act was actually my idea. After watching Maddie frantically call clown after clown and getting nothing, I offered to run down to a party store and pick up a few supplies. Big shoes. Rainbow wig. And a cheap polka-dot jumper.

There’s no mirror in the dining room, so I have no idea what I look like. But judging by Lily’s nonstop laughter, it’s got to be good.

Delores comes into the room. “Now that’s funny,” she says. It’s the first time she’s cracked a smile since I arrived yesterday.

“I think you need some pink on your cheeks,” Maddie says. “Come with me.” She looks down at Lily. “Wash your face, pretty princess. Your party friends will be here in less than half an hour.”

Lily jumps up to run to the bathroom. Maddie leads me down a hall. I’ve never been in the back of Delores’s house, just the front rooms. My heart hammers as I follow her. We haven’t been alone together since Maddie took off from LA.

She’s dressed more like her old self today. Distressed jeans that hug her hips. A ruffled shirt that flutters as she walks. Her hair is twisted into a loose knot, bits spilling out. We turn into a bedroom, and being this close to a bed and Maddie at the same time makes my groin tighten.

In a clown suit.

“Sit there,” she says, pointing to the bed. This does nothing to cool my jets.

Her room is messy, like she always was, and I relax a little. She hasn’t completely changed. She rummages through a million jars and tubes piled on a makeup table. Her bed isn’t made. I picture her tangled in the sheets and have to clamp down my jaw. Get it under control. It’s your daughter’s birthday party.

But I imagine some other scenario. If we were a real couple, and Lily was busy watching Delores frost the cake, and we had a minute alone, I could lock the door and have a free moment with Maddie, just a few minutes, to pull her into me.

We were crazy with it before everything happened. We mastered the location quickie. In bathrooms, behind the rows of washing machines at the Laundromat, in cars, on cars, behind cars, against trees. My house. Her mother’s house. Every room. Every flat surface.

I’m relieved now for the baggy polka-dot suit. I’m painfully pressed against the seam of my boxers.

“Here we go,” Maddie says. “This will do.”

She steps up to the bed and leans in with an open tub of something pink.

I clear my throat to make sure my voice is going to work. “What are you about to do to me?” I say it deliberately, in a voice that used to work on her.

She pauses, her eyes flicking at my face, those long lashes fluttering. She knows what I’m saying. 

“Something a hell of a lot different than I used to.”

My need for her is killing me now. I want to encircle her waist with my hands, pull her in. It takes everything I’ve got to resist.

I clench the edge of the bed instead. Maddie moves up close. She dips a finger into the tiny tub and spreads color on my cheek.

She’s touching me, and I’m not sure I can take one more second of it. Her shirt buttons down the front, the first one sort of low. I can see the shadow between her breasts, and all the times I held them in my palms rush at me like a motion picture.

She smells like evergreen and spice, nothing flowery about her. Her fingers brush across my other cheek, and frankly I don’t care if she paints my whole face if she’ll just stay this close.

Maddie bites her lips, concentrating as she goes back to the first cheek, sweeping in a circle. “This is harder than it looks,” she says.

I’ll say. Her body is so close to mine, I can feel the heat coming off her skin.

She pulls back to examine her work. “I think that’s good.” Then she looks into my eyes. And I can see that all that cool control she is showing is a damn lie. She feels every single thing I do. And I can’t resist placing my hands on her waist. I have to touch her.

She looks away, and I know I can’t push it, not right now, with the party about to start. But she presses her free hand against one of mine, just for a second, and hope surges through me like a volcano erupting.

“Thank you for saving the day,” she says. “Lily was so upset.”

She takes a step away, forcing me to let go of her waist. The moment has passed.

“Just don’t sell the photos to the gossip rags and destroy my bad-boy image,” I say.

She laughs a little and I can see the old Maddie in her face, the one I knew when we were young and carefree. What I wouldn’t give to have just another day of that.

“Well, Mr. Happy the Clown, time to get out there.”

“What am I supposed to do with the kids for two hours?”

She screws the lid back on the tub. “I have no idea.”

This could be bad.

Chapter Nine

I’m probably not the most traditional clown act in town, but what I lack in training, I make up for in entertainment.

I dance. I sing silly songs, forgetting the words so the kids have to finish. I let little girls go for rides on my shoulders, holding one on each side of my head like a strongman. We turn Lily into a human barbell and I lie on my back and bench-press her giggling form.

They laugh. They have cake. Lily opens a dozen presents, clothes and dolls and stuffed animals.

When the last little girl finally tearfully waves good-bye, I collapse on the sofa. Lily instantly comes over to sit on my lap.

“Daddy?” she says.

“Yes, Lily?”

“You were a really good clown.”

I squeeze her shoulders.

I can remember so clearly the day Lily and I finally connected. After that terrible visit when she was two, when I failed at basic diaper duty, I didn’t talk to Maddie at all for a while. It seemed pointless. I would just send money every month and forget about actually trying to be a part of Lily’s life. I reconciled myself to the fact that Maddie would marry some other guy and that dude would be the father figure. Someone who was around kids more. Somebody more qualified than me.

Then one day, out of the blue, Maddie sent me a request for a video chat on my phone. I’d never even done one, and I blundered with buttons and how to hold the dang thing.

And there was Lily, a little over three years old. She’d changed a lot in the year since I’d seen her, the toddler fluff of hair now real black strands. She had a seriousness in her face that seemed to say that she thought about things more than she could have as the walking baby who got so upset over a backward diaper.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hello, Lily.” I probably sounded a little formal, like a CEO starting a meeting. But I had no idea what this was about.

“Mama says you’re my daddy,” she said flatly.

I tried not to lose my grip on the phone. “I’ve always been your daddy,” I said. But it hit me, right then, with her looking intently at me in the video, that she hadn’t called me that. She had some words when she was two. Kitty. No. Hungry. Please. Mama.

But not Daddy.

She hadn’t really called me anything.

Lily didn’t say anything for a moment.

Maddie took the phone so I could see her instead. She looked harried and sad. “Today was her first day of preschool.” She glanced down, I assumed at Lily. “It didn’t go very well.”

“Did somebody hurt her?” Despite the distance and my lack of actual parenting, anger exploded through me that someone might harm this little girl.

“No, no,” Maddie said. She reached down and picked up a piece of paper. “She drew this.”

She held up something, but the feed wouldn’t really zoom in on it. It was just a bunch of faint lines.

“I can’t tell what it is,” I said.

She set it down. “The teacher had the kids draw their family.” She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just held the phone out, trying to keep it centered so she could see me.

“Lily drew me and Aunt Delores in her picture,” Maddie said.

And light began to dawn.

“Did the kids tease her?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. She won’t really say. But the teacher said how nice it was that she had two mommies and I guess…” Maddie trailed off. “I guess the other kids asked a lot of questions. I hadn’t prepared her. She hasn’t been around other kids much.”

“So she didn’t even know I was her dad?”

“We’ve told her about you. But…” She looked down again.

“I know. I’m not there.”

“We should have taken some pictures when you were here. Something with you and her. I didn’t think about it,” Maddie said.

The image shook dramatically, and Maddie looked down. “Okay, here you go.”

Lily filled the screen again.

“Why are you so far away?” she demanded. Her face was stern, like her aunt’s. She was turning into them already.

I have to admit that at the time this question pissed me off. I was late to a training session, half-dressed, and here I was being barraged with questions Maddie should have dealt with a long time ago. She was the mother. She lived with Lily. I didn’t appreciate that she was putting me on the spot.

“I have to live in California,” I said. “It’s where I work.”

I wanted to end this call. How was I supposed to explain to this kid — and when the hell did she start talking anyway — that her mother hated me, that she hated my life, but that I loved it? That there was no way to fix the problem.

I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that wouldn’t have spouted a load of bitterness and rage at the whole situation.

Lily’s little face hid nothing, crumpled in confusion. “Everybody had mamas and daddies in their picture ’cept me,” she said.

Finally I sat down and really looked at her. The pink shirt. The dark curling hair. So much Maddie in her. But a lot of me too. My parents would die to see her. I wouldn’t talk to them about it. Mainly I avoided going over to their house anymore. They had never even seen one of my fights.

And now, there was Lily. “Well, here I am,” I said. “I guess you can draw me in your picture tomorrow.”

This made her whole face brighten. “I can?”

“Sure.”

She stared at me through the screen. “You don’t have much hair.”

This made me smile, at least. I rubbed my hand across my head, where my hair was buzzed super close. “It’s there. It’s just really short.”

“You have hair on your face,” she said.

“It grows better there.”

She thought about this. “Are you tall or short?”

“Sort of medium.”

“Okay.” Suddenly the phone made a thunk sound and all I could see was the ceiling.

Maddie centered the screen on her again. “I think she just ran off to find some paper.”

It was hard to look at Maddie. My failure was like a wall between us. But so was her disapproval.

I thought she’d say something about it, maybe express some regret that I wasn’t part of Lily’s life.

Then I thought I would try to say it. Tell her I ought to try harder.

But instead there was an awkward silence, and finally Maddie said good-bye.

Later that night, though, she sent a snapshot of a picture Lily had drawn showing the three of us, stick figures with giant round heads. Above us, Maddie had neatly printed “Mama, Lily, Daddy.”

After that, Lily called me pretty often, asking my favorite color, what games I liked to play, filling out things for her preschool work. And in that way, I got to know her.

I knew months ago that I needed to fly there to see her, but I couldn’t figure out a way with my schedule and always watching money fly away to expenses. I couldn’t get ahead. Then her birthday came up, and I knew this time I had to make it happen.

So I did.

Maddie comes into the living room, drying her hands on a towel. “Looks like the birthday girl conked out,” she says.

I glance down. Sure enough, Lily is asleep, her cheek flattened against the polka-dot clown suit over my chest.

“It’s kind of early, isn’t it?” I whisper.

Maddie glances at the clock. “A little. But she was up before dawn, so excited.” She holds out her arms. “Should I take her?”

“I’ll carry her.”

She’s still so light and small. I haven’t missed everything. I curl her into me and stand up. Lily rolls into my chest, her hand tucked under her chin. I’m flooded with that feeling again, the one I got in the airport. This is what it feels like to be a dad. I get it now.

I follow Maddie down the hall to Lily’s room. It’s a pink explosion with stuffed animals piled in every corner. I lay Lily on her bed, and Maddie pulls off her shoes.

It’s such a normal moment, one a million other parents get every night. But I’ve never done it myself. It’s cozy and comfortable and gets to me.

Maddie must feel it too, because she takes my hand. We stand there a second, as if we were ordinary parents, watching the serenity of a sleeping child.

And not two people who split apart after a disastrous night.

With one of us currently wearing a clown suit.

I don’t really want this moment to end, but Maddie tugs me out of the room. It’s not even dark out, but the shade is drawn, so when the light goes out, shadows take over.

Delores is in the hall. She frowns at our joined hands, and Maddie lets me go.

“I was about to head to the store to pick up some things. We are out of milk after the party.” She presses her lips together in a tight line, like maybe she’s rethinking leaving us alone.

“That’s great,” Maddie says. “Since tomorrow’s her actual birthday, I thought we could make her favorite lunch and just have a little family thing.”

Delores flicks her eyes at me at the word “family.”

Yeah, lady, I get it. You don’t count me in that.

Her nose twitches. “We have what we need for grilled cheese.”

“But not the tomato soup,” Maddie counters.

Delores nods. “Fine.” She turns away, then back again. “I won’t be gone long.” She emphasizes the long.

“It doesn’t take long,” I whisper. Maddie punches my chest, a motion so familiar that it’s like we never left each other.

This is the best day of my life.

We wait for the back door to close, signaling Delores is gone. It feels like high school and waiting for parents to leave.

My heart is hammering ninety to nothing. Despite the hand-holding and the joke, I know better than to think we’re getting anywhere. But this is the second time I’ve felt some hope that this chasm can be crossed. That we could be some sort of family.

Maddie turns to me. “I suppose you want me to get that paint off your face.”

“I don’t know. I think it might be a good look for me.”

She smiles, and my heart turns over.

“Come on, fighter boy. Let’s return you to your big bad self.”

We walk back to her bedroom. I know it’s stupid, but I still try to calculate how far it might be to a store and how long Delores will spend there.

I pull apart the Velcro at the back of the suit, but it’s caught in the wig.

“Here, let me,” Maddie says. She works with the tabs. The wig comes off, and my head immediately feels cool and light.

“That’s a relief,” I say.

She pulls at the rest of the Velcro, opening the back. My throat tightens each time her fingers brush against my skin. I’m not wearing anything but boxers beneath the jumper.

I shrug, and the suit falls down to my ankles. It feels like she’s undressing me, and as soon as I turn around, she won’t help but be able to notice how I’m reacting to that. The boxers don’t quite contain it.

Maddie stays behind me as I kick off the clown shoes and step out of the suit, trying to clamp it all down. The last thing I want to do is scare her off when we’ve just started talking again.

She heads to her makeup table, and I wad the clown suit into a ball. My jeans are on the other side of the bed. I’m about to walk toward them, then I realize Maddie isn’t moving. She’s watching me in the mirror. She wants to look at me.

So I take a risk and face it so she can see the effect she has always had on me.

I know the instant she sees, because she inhales sharply, like a gasp.

“Some things don’t change,” I say.

She turns around, her eyes all over me. More of her hair has loosened from the knot during the day. The ruffled shirt clings to her. I want to touch her more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.

She holds out a bottle and a round sponge. “To get the color off your face.”

“You do it,” I say.

Her hand with the bottle is shaking. “I shouldn’t.”

“I want you to.” I take another step toward her.

She looks up at me, then back at my chest. “You have more tattoos than before,” she says.

I’m close enough to place my hands on her waist again. She’s trembling. I wonder who she’s dated in the years since we were together. What they’ve done to her. If there’s anyone in her life right now. I want to make her forget them. All of them.

“You said you were going to take this makeup off,” I say.

She presses the sponge to the bottle and tilts it to get it wet. She seems uncertain as she lifts it to my face.

I hold her gaze as she presses the sponge to my skin and begins to stroke first one side, then the other. I’m not going to stop myself. I already know this. My hands go to her hips and I pull her body to mine until we connect. She sucks in another quick breath.

God, I want her. I take the bottle and sponge from her and set them on the table.

She hasn’t moved. I grasp her wrists, then slide my hands up the silky sleeves of the shirt. I cross her shoulders and let my fingers trace her collarbone. Then I cup her chin.

Maddie is still looking into my face. I’m not going to let up, not as long as she’s right here, her body pressed against me. I bend down and flutter a soft kiss against her lips, just to test the waters.

She relents, and the moment I feel her relax, I take no prisoners. My mouth captures her, and my hands move to the back of her head, pushing her against me.

Maddie groans against me. In the next instant, I figure either she’s had a long dry spell, or whatever those other guys were doing wasn’t enough, because she ignites. I remember this so well, this sudden firestorm. Her hands are on my back, in my waistband. She gives as good as she gets, our mouths clashing, hot, tasting each other. She’s wild, and sinuous, her hips pressing hard against me, rotating, moving in ways that test my every limit.

God. I have to have her.

I take a step back and sit on the bed, dragging her onto my lap. Her legs part and she straddles me, knees on either side. My hands slide inside her shirt and release the bra. Her soft breasts in my hands after all this time are a miracle, warm and hard-nubbed, the nipples taut beneath my thumbs.

I want to tear her clothes off, get them the hell out of the way. I yank at the shirt, pushing it to her neck, out of my way. I don’t have the access I want, so I twist her to the bed, flat on her back.

Her body is exposed to me as a swath of belly, her ribs, and now, those amazing breasts. I hover over her, drinking this vision in, then take a nipple in my mouth. Maddie arches against me, clutching my shoulders.

I’ve got her, I keep thinking. She’s mine. We’re back. We can do this.

She makes little throaty sounds, familiar and crashing back like a desperate memory. I move up her body to kiss her again and tug at the snap of her jeans, yanking them open.

Her hips thrust up to my hand, and I smile against her mouth. I know her. I know exactly what to do. My palm flattens against her belly and my fingers slip down inside her panties. She’s so hot, and wet. Her legs open for me, and I dive inside, deep in her, fluttering my fingertips.

Her body is already pulsing, ready for it, desperate. I feel like I’m on fire for her. I withdraw to get the jeans out of the way. I’m going to do the worst things to her. She will remember exactly how we used to be together. She will feel everything.

Then we hear it.

The door.

I look up. Already?

Maddie snatches at her shirt and jerks it down. In an instant, she’s standing, fighting her bra and snapping her jeans.

“Get dressed,” she hisses and dashes out of the room, slamming the door.

Shit.

SHIT.

Chapter Ten

Back at my motel, I don’t even know what to do. Maddie acted like I wasn’t even there once Delores returned. That woman must have broken some land-speed record for grabbing milk and soup and getting back home.

After standing in the doorway of the kitchen for ten minutes, only to be completely and utterly ignored, I eventually just left. I walked the half mile to the motel to burn off steam.

But now it’s worse.

I don’t know anybody here. New York doesn’t allow official MMA, so everything is underground. I can’t even go watch a fight. I have no idea how to find one.

I want to go back to Maddie and finish what we started. I know we can fix this thing. All the attraction is still there. It’s what’s supposed to happen. We’re supposed to be together.

Damn it.

I slam my hands against the wall. I have to get out of here.

The night air helps. I walk the opposite direction, away from Maddie’s, along a street with closed-up shops and hole-in-the-wall restaurants with a few straggler patrons.

I come across a bar and decide that’s a great idea. The inside is dark, TV screens lining one wall. There’s some basketball on, some NASCAR. Then toward the back, a small crowd of tables is watching a cage fight in Vegas.

That’s more like it.

I head that way and sit at the end of the bar. I don’t know either of the fighters personally, but I’ve seen one of them, Crazy Hound, in a live match in LA. He slams the other guy to the mat and they hold for what seems like forever. The bartender comes over and I order a beer, and Crazy Hound is still on the guy.

“Pound his face and call the damn match,” I bellow, and some of the other guys turn to look at me.

“Hell, yeah,” one says. “Let’s see something happen or get these pussies off the mat.”

I’m feeling better, back in my element. I know damn well how hard a hold like that is to maintain. The guy on bottom is not just lying there, but struggling with everything he’s got, and trying to find any toehold to make progress toward breaking free. But these guys are just fans. I can tell by their beer bellies and the tables strewn with bar food and empties.

Then one says, “Ain’t exactly easy getting out of a butterfly guard.”

My head snaps around to look at him. This guy is different, heavy but muscular. He knows his game.

The men cheer when the ref calls the match.

“Finally,” one shouts.

The bartender brings my drink, and I toss some bills on the bar. I know better than to have more than one. I’m about to be training harder than ever, especially if Colt’s in charge, to make sure I am in good shape to impress people on this side of the leagues.

Two of the guys stand up and point to the door.

“Right,” the muscular one says. “We better get down there.”

They’re all throwing money on the table, too much in a hurry to even ask for the bill. I wonder what they’re up to. The one guy picks up a gym bag, and I see a pair of MMA gloves in the mesh.

And I get it. They’re going to a fight. That guy is a fighter.

I let them get to the door, then casually stand up and pretend to drain the beer. I wave at the bartender, who’s frowning at the mess the guys left.

Then I follow them.

If they get in a car, I’m screwed. But they don’t. They keep walking along the street and eventually turn down another toward a warehouse.

Cars are strewn everywhere, parked along every curb and on a scraggly grass lot.

I’m not sure if there will be any sort of code to get in, like some of the illegal fights in LA. I decide to take my chances on these guys and hustle up to them.

“So who’s up tonight?” I ask.

They look at me for a second, then one says, “Jimmy here is going to take a shot.” He points at the guy with the bag.

Jimmy is a big guy, and his weight alone will give him an advantage in a basement cage match.

“Looks like only a fool would take him on,” I say.

Jimmy claps me on the back. “You look like you could jump in for a round. You going to get in the lineup?”

That’s one hell of an idea. I’m pissed off enough to take a go at someone. But technically, I’m under contract. If my league found out I did an illegal match, I’d be suspended. Plus, there’s Lily. I can’t go to her house with a cut eye, and the damn thing is susceptible.

“Nah,” I say. “It might end my modeling career.”

This makes them whoop with laughter.

It’s a good thing I decided to talk with them, because the guy at the door to the warehouse looks like he could pound me into the asphalt in a single blow. As we approach, he grabs some punk kid by the waistband and hurls him into the back street.

But when we get there, he shakes Jimmy’s hand. “Hope I get a chance to step in and see you go,” he says. “Throw a couple good licks for me.”

“Will do,” Jimmy says.

The guy notices me, but says nothing, and we pass on through.

A short corridor opens into the big warehouse space and a couple hundred guys crowd around an octagonal cage. There’s actually a ref in there, unlike some of the underground fights in LA. It’s more organized than the one I dragged Lani and Annie to that time, when Jo and Brittany took them down after the attack on Colt.

The betting is more orderly too. Instead of a few guys running around holding cash, there’s a table where you put your money on each match.

Several of the guys I’m with head to the table to place bets. 

A line of men off to one side are getting weighed. Jimmy goes toward the scales. I decide to blend in with the crowd.

A new pair of fighters come into the cage, flyweights by the looks of them.

“That boy looks like my little sister,” a guy next to me says.

He’s talking about a bushy-haired fighter who is lean as a whip, but I can see the technique in his punches as he warms up. He’s trained. He’s confident. He might be less than 130 pounds, but I bet he could take down half the men in this room inside a single round.

Besides, the minute the match starts, the spectators see the difference in the heavier classes and the fly. These light fighters are agile and fast. The punches are relentless, and they throw each other around, flipping and somersaulting.

“Now that’s something to watch!” a voice in the crowd cries out.

I admire their strategy. They’re pretty good for an underground fight. It must be a function of the system here, where almost all fights are unofficial.

Glancing through the guys lining up for a match, roughly organized by weight, I see these two are the only flyweights. The bulk of them are like me, welterweight, one of the most crowded categories. If I could drop down to feather or bulk up to middleweight, the competition would be less. It’s something Brazen’s talked to me about. If I’m moving to another league, it makes sense to figure out the most advantageous weight class.

I’m not looking for a fast track. But I’ve already put in the years. I’ve paid some dues. I need to be more strategic.

One of the flyweights crashes into the cage wall. He’s got blood dripping from his nose. The ref stops the fight so he can take a look and decide if he should call it. That’s another difference between these fights and the LA underground. Those are no-holds-barred. Here they are actually fighting by league rules.

I’m anxious to look up who is fighting in this area and where they go to make actual money. I’m guessing that in this basement match it’s a percentage of the bets. But there are regulation fights nearby, in New Jersey and Connecticut. Those will be run by a league, with a preset amount in the purse.

I need to figure out what I’m doing. Maddie already showed me that we can make something happen. Now I’ve got to get here to actually do it.

My phone buzzes. I tug it from my pocket, hoping it’s Maddie, praying she wants to meet me somewhere.

But the text is from Delores.

Leave Maddie alone. You upset her. She doesn’t need any more grief from you.

Bloody hell. What happened after I left?

The crowd erupts as one of the flyweights is thrown across the cage, then fails to stagger back to his feet. The ref calls the match. I back up to the wall and send Maddie a quick note.

Did I upset you?

I wait for a response as the ref declares the other guy a winner. Some older man comes into the cage with a towel to lead off the bleeding one.

I watch the phone anxiously. Nothing.

Some teen kids come out and swipe at the floor of the cage with mops.

I write her again.

Maddie, talk to me.

Two more fighters come out and the ref starts another match.

Still nothing.

I can’t stand it.

I duck out of the room and head to the exit. Maybe I’ll walk to her house, see if I can talk to her. Then I decide, yes, I’ll do it, and take off in a light jog.

Then I think, I’ll make it more convincing. I rush back to the motel to change into workout clothes. Cutoff sweatpants, a hoodie. Like I’m just out for a run.

When I come back out, the night is quiet. Everything’s closed. Street lamps cast a glow at every corner.

A half mile is nothing, just a few minutes. I approach Maddie’s house. The light in the living room is on. Her bedroom window is dark. Who’s up? Maddie or Delores? Should I knock?

I chicken out on the first pass, get to the next corner, then turn around. I’m glad I didn’t drink the beer. My belly is roiling just from the anxiety.

When I approach the house a second time, I feel my phone in the pocket of the hoodie buzz against my belly. I yank it out eagerly, hoping she’s up. That she’s responded.

And she has. But it’s just one word. One to make my heart sink.

Don’t.

Chapter Eleven

I’m so anxious when I arrive the next day for Lily’s actual birthday, I can barely function.

I’ve dressed better. Khakis and a button-down. I’d have put on a tie if I had one. I know they both think I’m something terrible. I want to show them that I’m not.

Lily opens the door, beaming up at me like a wee goddess in a shiny gold dress. I hold out the box with her present. “For the birthday girl,” I tell her.

“Ooooh,” she breathes.

We go inside. Delores is setting out plates on the dining room table. I can smell the grilled-cheese sandwiches browning. There’s another small cake on the table.

No one greets me.

I sit in one of the chairs and Lily climbs on another. “Can I open it now?” she asks.

“Maybe you should ask your mama,” I say.

She frowns a moment. “She’s busy.”

Probably a good decision. “Then open it now,” I say.

Lily needs no more encouragement. She rips off the paper, revealing a small ballerina jewelry box. When she lifts the lid, it plays “Moon River.”

Delores stops for a moment to flash me a terrible look. She knows.

I start to regret the purchase. But when I found the box and heard it play the song, I wanted it for Lily. She should know, especially when she gets older, that her parents did care about each other at one time. That they had a song that meant a lot to them.

“I love it,” Lily says. The little ballerina turns on her pedestal.

“There’s another little box inside,” I say.

She sees it and lifts it out. Her fingers are clumsy and struggle to open the box. Inside is a bracelet with three charms. She holds it up. “What are they?” she asks.

I lift the first one. “This is a seashell. For the ocean where your mama and I used to go together in California.”

“I’ve never been to the ocean,” Lily says.

“Then I’ll have to take you,” I tell her. “This one is a peace sign. Your mama wore this pretty black shirt with a shiny rainbow peace sign on it the day we met.”

She giggles. “That’s funny.”

“It was a funny shirt.”

I finger the last one. “This is a boxing glove. It’s for what I do. I’m a fighter.”

Lily’s face registers confusion. “You get in fights?”

“It’s a sport,” I say. “Like baseball or soccer. Only we do stuff that’s more like karate, kicking and punching.”

“You hit each other?”

This was a bad idea, I realize. Very bad. I love what I do. Love it. But I can see how hard it is to explain to a child.

Maddie’s voice from the doorway is hard and cold. “Stop it right now,” she says.

She holds a plate of sandwiches. She looks so angry that my heart seizes up. I don’t want to hurt her. But this is who I am.

Lily looks back and forth between the two of us. “Moon River” winds down into silence.

“Daddy brought me this,” she says uncertainly and holds up the bracelet.

Maddie puts on a bright false smile. “It’s very pretty. Now go wash your hands for your favorite lunch!”

Lily jumps off the chair and races toward the back of the house. Maddie drops the plate on the table in an angry huff. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asks.

“I just want her to know where she came from.”

“She comes from here. From me. Not you. Not your life. From me.”

“She’s my daughter too.”

Maddie’s face is in a fury. I would swear she’s about to pick up a plate and throw it at me.

Delores grasps Maddie’s shoulders. “It’s Lily’s birthday. Let’s put this away for the moment so she can have a good day.”

For once I agree with Delores.

Maddie sinks into a chair. “I want you gone as soon as lunch is over,” she says to me.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m so pissed off at Maddie that I think I might lose control. I keep my voice flat and even. “I’m here to see Lily. I flew all the way here from LA to see her on her birthday.”

Maddie stares at me hard, glaring, her eyes sparking with anger. “You can take her to the park, then,” she says. “But I want you out of my house. I’m through with you.”

I want to argue with her, but Lily comes skipping back into the room as if nothing has happened.

I know I’ve lost. I’ll just have to make the best of it.

Chapter Twelve

The park is a short walk along the row of houses, past an elementary school that I assume Lily will eventually attend. It’s a little chillier than I expected for fall, but we’re in New York, not California.

Lily skips ahead in a puffy pink jacket. The charms jingle on her wrist.

I’m trying to calm myself down. Lunch was awkward. Maddie refused to talk to anyone but Lily. Even that happened with a false lilt in her voice, trying to fake it to avoid upsetting Lily on her birthday.

Delores sat concerned and silent at the other end of the table. In the end, most of the conversation was between me and Lily. Even though she is only four, Lily seemed to know not to bring up the bracelet, the music box, or this new information that I was a fighter.

The park isn’t much, just a jungle gym and a few swings on the corner of the block. A few kids run around shouting. Mothers sit on the peeling benches.

“Come on, Daddy,” Lily says. “Watch me go down the slide!”

She takes off across the play yard. I follow along, not sure how this is done. The other parents are sitting and talking. Only one youngish woman is actually attending a child, who is very young, barely two, trying to climb a rope ladder on one side.

Lily’s face pops through a tunnel at the top of the slide. “Watch me!”

“I’m watching!” I say.

She slides down, her little black-stockinged legs sticking out straight ahead of her. When she makes it to the bottom, she cries, “I’m going to do it again!” and circles back around.

I attract some attention. The mothers look at me, then cut their eyes and lean in close to talk. I’m glad the tattoos are covered. No telling what people would say then. It must be obvious to them that I don’t fit in, although I don’t know how. I’m just watching Lily play.

Lily hurtles down the slide a second time. “Watch me climb to the top!” she says.

I lean against a pole. Despite the discomfort of the other moms talking about me, this beats getting glared at by Maddie. I don’t know what to do about her. She wants me to be somebody else. I don’t know how to do anything but fight.

Besides, tomorrow I’m meeting with some guys at the biggest gym in the area. If she wasn’t already mad, she probably would be then.

But fighting over here means writing off the plane tickets. And coming more often. She’ll just have to accept that this is my life. It’s not like I’ll be taking Lily to matches.

I remember that golden-haired girl on her father’s shoulders at my last fight. I wondered what sort of life she had, who her parents were that it was all right for her to come to something like that. Heck, I didn’t even know the rules. Maybe the dad was someone special enough that they let his little girl in.

Halfway up the steps, Lily spots someone behind me and squeals. She hurries back down. “Amanda!” she cries.

I watch her run up to a little girl I remember from the party yesterday. A few feet behind her are a bearded man and a sullen-looking preteen boy.

“You’re not a clown today,” the little girl says shyly.

“Not today,” I say.

“Let’s go down the slide together!” Lily says, and the two of them take off.

The father pauses next to me. He’s tall and skinny with hipster glasses. “You got park duty too, I see,” he says.

“I did,” I answer. “I’m Parker, Lily’s dad.” I shake his hand.

“Ah, that was the clown part.” He laughs. “We do get suckered into stuff like that sometimes. I’m Barry.” He watches the unhappy boy plunk down on a bench and pull out his phone. “That’s my son, Josh. We got kicked out of the house because my wife has some friends over to sell some sort of junk.”

I don’t have any reply for that. I’ve never had this sort of conversation — wives, kids, parks. It’s like another world.

“So I haven’t heard about you,” Barry says.

“I live in California.”

He nods. “Makes sense, then. What do you do there?”

I hesitate. What the hell do I say? I just go with the truth. “I’m an MMA fighter.”

Barry takes a step back. “Really?” He stares at me a second. “Should I know who you are?”

“I doubt it. I haven’t done anything televised.”

Barry turns to his son. “Hey, Josh. Lily’s dad is an MMA fighter.”

I think the kid is going to be completely unimpressed and go back to his phone, but he jumps up. “Really?” He says it exactly like his dad did.

“Yeah!” Barry turns back to me. “Josh is taking fight club at one of the local gyms.”

I take a closer look at the boy. He’s not as wiry as his father. He might have some potential. “I’m headed to Panther’s tomorrow to set up a match for my next visit,” I say.

“That’s where I go,” Josh says. “My coach does fights. His name is Pinball.”

“I’ll probably meet him tomorrow, then,” I say. “So what do you know? Roundhouse?” I do a quick swing. “Push kick?” I turn and demonstrate.

“Yeah,” he says, fired up now. “And jump kicks.” He leaps and delivers one straight to my gut. I’m not expecting it, so I fall back a few steps.

“Josh! Hey!” his dad shouts.

I laugh to show it’s fine. “Good one. You’re not half bad.” Actually he’s terrible, but he’s learning. I’m pleased to see kids taking it up early.

“Can we go to your fight?” Josh asks.

“It’ll be across the state line somewhere,” I say. “You can’t do official fights in New York.” I think of the underground ones. Hopefully I’ll be a step above all that.

Josh looks up at his dad. “Can we go?”

He shrugs. “As long as it’s okay with your mom.”

This gets me. Maddie will not like me involving any of her friends in what I do.

Damn.

Maybe nothing will come of it. We’ll probably never see each other again.

“Daddy, come push us!” Lily calls.

“Daddy, come!” her friend says.

“Duty calls,” Barry says.

Josh goes back to his bench, but he seems more animated now, like coming here wasn’t the worst thing ever after all.

I head over to the swings with a sense of unease, like I just messed up big time.

Chapter Thirteen

Panther’s gym rivals Buster’s with its crappy-looking exterior. The bricks are crumbling on the corners of the building. Weeds spring up through the cracks in the sidewalk.

But the windows have giant glossy letters and a slick logo of a guy kicking a giant Muay Thai bag.

The inside is warm, and I shed my jacket in an instant. A stout, long-haired man with an outrageous handlebar mustache crosses the room and extends a hand. “Power Play. Glad to see you made it over to these parts.”

“Panther,” I say over our handshake. “Been a while since I’ve seen you in a ring.”

“My wrestling days are over,” he says. “MMA is the thing now.”

On the side wall is a giant poster of Panther in his glory days. He was part of the biggest of the big leagues, traveling the country, breaking chairs over opponents’ heads in televised publicity stunts. I’m amused that he’s kept his look so he can always be recognized, although it’s odd to see the iconic hair and mustache topping an old pair of sweats rather than the brightly colored wrestling suits.

One side of the room is devoted to weights and mats. On the other side is a line of two standard square boxing rings and an MMA cage. Panther tilts his head toward it. “This baby is brand new. We’re gearing up for when New York finally gets its act together and lifts the ban.”

“I went to an underground fight the other night,” I say.

“Couple miles from here? In the warehouse?” Panther smooths down his mustache.

“Yeah. Looked pretty organized for what it was.”

He nods. “Some of the boys go down there to take an edge off. Official fights are a lot fewer and farther between around here.”

We walk along the mats. Several guys are lifting weights. Two boxers are sparring in the far ring. A grizzled trainer that reminds me of Jo’s old coach leans on the ropes and yells alternating insults and encouragements.

“Who’s running the underground stuff?”

“Some of us with gyms. As long as you don’t have a kid in the fight, you can run the logistics.” Panther stops by the ring where the two men are grunting, dodging, and landing blows. “I got a boy coming in about a half hour. You wanna show him what you got?”

I lift my duffel with fight shorts and gear. “Show me the showers.”

He waves me to the back, where there is a set of doors. I’m feeling good about this. With any luck, I’ll be on the same side of the country as Lily before Christmas.

***

The fighter Panther pairs me up with is House Ace, a younger guy, twenty on the outside and a weight class below me. But he’s quick, and a good striker. Our movements are fast and energetic in the cage, and before long, most of the people in the gym have come up to watch.

Ace connects with my headgear in a solid blow. I shake it off. “You’ve got some fast moves,” I say.

“And you’re a damn tank to hit,” he says with a laugh.

Panther’s hanging on to the outside of the cage, watching intently. “Show me some floor work,” he barks.

Unless this guy has some solid moves, there’s no way he’s going to make any dent in my ground and pound. I outweigh him by fifteen, easy. I sweep his legs and he goes down hard.

We’re not here to inflict damage, covered in shin guards and helmets, but I hear the air rush out of him when he lands on his back. I get a knee on his belly. “Three elbows,” I say, but don’t throw them.

Ace tries to roll away, but when he does, I grab his shoulder and shove him straight into an armbar.

“Nice,” Panther says.

A small voice says, “Daddy?”

I let go. I realize a bunch of boys are surrounding the cage now. And there’s Josh, the boy from the park. And his sister, Lily’s friend.

And now I can see her, eyes wide.

Lily.

A harried woman holds her shoulders.

“Daddy? What are you doing?” Lily breaks away from the woman and runs up the steps to the cage.

The woman looks apologetic. “I had no idea you’d be here,” she says. “I was dropping off my son.”

“This is the dad I told you about!” Josh says excitedly. “He’s Lily’s dad!”

Ace is still under my knee, so I stand up. Lily is banging on the door of the cage. I head over. “Hey, baby, what are you doing here?” I open the door.

Lily jumps on me like I’ve tried to run away or something. Her little hands cling to my arms in a death grip. “Did he hurt you?”

Ace picks himself up. “It’s all good, little lady. We’re just playing.”

Panther pushes away from the cage and addresses Josh and the other boys. “Get to the mats. Your coach ain’t got all day.” They all hurry to the back corner.

The woman isn’t sure what to do. She puts a foot on the first step to the cage, then takes it off again. Finally, she says, “Lily, come back here. Your aunt will expect you to be home.” She flashes me a quick smile. “I run the preschool carpool on Mondays.”

“I want to see Daddy play,” Lily says. She turns to me. “Can you do it to him again?”

Panther lets out a loud guffaw. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little fighter there, Power Play.”

Lily’s face screws up in confusion. “Why is he calling you that?”

“That’s my fighter name. Power Play.” I point to Ace. “And this is House Ace.”

“Can I have a name?” Lily asks.

“Sure,” Ace says. He elbows me. “You got something, hoss? Princess Power?”

Lily looks down at her shirt, which has a rhinestone crown on it. “What do you think, Daddy?”

I think Maddie’s going to kill me. But I didn’t exactly bring her here.

“How about Power Punch?” I say. “I play and you punch.”

She laughs. “Okay!” She rears back and starts pummeling her fists into my chest. “Like this?”

I set her back down on the mat and kneel down. “More like this.” I take her fist and change the position of her thumb. “Now keep your fists by your chin and come straight at me.” I move her hands.

She crouches a little, her tiny fists under her face. “You ready, Power Daddy?”

“Sock it to me, Power Punch.”

She comes at my chest, arms flying. I let her rain a whole series of blows that feel like she’s tapping for my attention. Then she pulls her hands back. “You’re sweaty,” she says with a grimace.

I have to laugh. “It happens.”

The woman looks disconcerted. “I really think I should take her to Delores,” she says. “She’ll be worried if I’m late.”

I want to say just text her, but instead I give Lily a quick hug. I’m supposed to drop by to say good-bye to her later, before Maddie gets home. “I’ll see you in a little while,” I say.

“Okay.” She looks at me and Ace for a second. “You were really just playing, like you said?”

Ace puts his gloved hand on his heart. “Just playing.”

“Okay,” she says.

I lead her back to the cage door.

Panther catches her as she hops off the steps. “These are a little big, but you’ll grow into them.” He hands her a pair of pink MMA gloves.

Lily can barely contain her excitement. “For me!” She looks like she’s going to hug the big wrestler’s knee, but then she turns shy. “Thank you,” she says.

“Let’s go, Lily. Come on, Amanda.” The mother looks straight-up panicked as she tries to get the girls to follow her out. I feel for her. Maddie is going to freak at the sight of those gloves. Good thing I won’t be there to see it.

“Let’s go talk business,” Panther says. “Meet me in the office in the back.”

Ace claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you around,” he says.

“Fun sparring with you, man,” I say. I hurry down the steps. Lily is gone, loading up in a minivan. All that’s left of this trip is sealing a deal and booking a fight.

Chapter Fourteen

In my motel room that night, I’m relieved Delores didn’t pitch a fit and mess up my good-bye with Lily. She obviously knew about the gym, because Lily was wearing the pink gloves when I arrived. I tried to convince her to tuck them under her pillow or put them away, but Lily was adamant. They were her new favorite thing.

This was going to be bad.

I’m supposed to head out first thing in the morning back to LA. I’ll train there for three weeks, probably do a fight somewhere, and then fly back here for my first East Coast match.

Things couldn’t have gone better.

Except with Maddie.

My mood darkens, remembering how she acted after I gave Lily the bracelet. I don’t get it. I know this is a crazy life. It’s hard to watch people get jacked up in a fight. But really, I don’t get beat that often, not where I am now. She happened to be there for the worst fight in my personal history.

A knock at the motel door irritates me. The room wasn’t made up all day, and apparently now they’re going to show up late and try to work around me. I fling the door open.

But it’s not housekeeping.

It’s Maddie.

And she’s spitting fire.

She throws the pink gloves at my face. “I can’t BELIEVE you gave these to my little girl. I can’t BELIEVE you would teach her how to throw a punch. Are you out of your damn mind? Did you not listen to a thing I said?”

I back away until I’m in the middle of the room. She steps in and slams the door.

Her hair is wild, like it’s gone electric with her anger. “We’ve never been married,” she says, “so I don’t have the luxury of a divorce decree saying what you can and cannot do. But don’t think I’m going to stand here and let you do whatever you want with Lily. She is not ever to be a part of your fighter world. Do you hear me?”

I sit down on the bed. I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will be the right thing. When we were first together and she would get like this, I’d fight back. Then we’d break up. I’d spend hours and days trying to woo her back until she finally gave in.

Then it would happen all over again.

Eventually I learned it was way easier to just hear her out, stay cool.

Not that there’s anything to salvage of us now. But there’s a lot to lose with Lily.

So I don’t say a damn thing.

She paces back and forth between the window and the door, arms crossed over some fancy gray jacket and pantsuit. Her heels are a mile high, so she’s tall. She looks so beautiful I couldn’t get mad if I wanted to. I just wait her out.

“I’ve raised Lily by myself for four years.” She stops walking and turns to face me. “You are not going to step in and undo everything in one weekend.”

I’m not sure what I’ve undone. I know better than to ask. But I do know I can’t let her think I’m just going to sit by and pretend I’m somebody else in front of Lily.

“I’m coming back for a match in a little under a month,” I say.

“You’re WHAT?” She leans forward, like she didn’t hear me right.

“I booked a fight with a league here. I’m going to get on regular.”

She presses the heels of her hands against her temples. “No!”

“It’s already done.”

“I won’t let you!”

And that’s it. I’m sick of it. My voice booms. “You don’t have a goddamn choice!”

“I won’t let you see her!” Her face is red and full of panic.

I stand up slowly. “I’m her dad. And I have the right to see her.” My voice is low, and I know I sound menacing, but she’s landing low blows now. “We never wanted to get a judge involved, but I will do so if you try to keep her from me.”

Her eyes get very big, and I’m reminded of how Lily looked when she ran up the cage steps. They are so alike.

She sinks into an armchair by the window and drops her purse to the floor. “What’s happened to you? You didn’t care a thing about her for two years.”

“I did too care. I just couldn’t make it work.” I want to tell her how she and Delores made me out to be some idiot who couldn’t manage a kid, but I don’t.

Maddie tucks her hands together on her lap like she’s nervous. “This isn’t good for her.”

“What does it hurt for her to learn to defend herself? It’s a good skill.”

Maddie has no answer to that, and now she won’t look at me. Her eyes are fixed on the carpet.

The anger starts to drain out of me. She’s the same old Maddie, getting all worked up only to regret the things she says. I know her. She’s probably the person I know best in the world.

I sit on the floor next to her. This gives her an advantage, lets her look down on me. I know I can be menacing. I need to bring it down. Right now I don’t even have a shirt on. To her, I probably look like some inked-up street fighter, ready to wrap a chain around somebody’s neck.

I have to remind her I’m not like that.

“I love her, Maddie. I’m trying to get here to be close to her, and fighting is the only thing I know how to do.”

Her eyes roam over me, the burred head, the scruffy jaw that’s grown out a bit more while I’ve been here, the tattoos along my arms and shoulders. I know what she’s seeing. Some guy who doesn’t fit in with the other dads, people like Barry who work in accounting and buy minivans so their wives can run carpools.

I take a risk and reach out to place my hand lightly on top of hers, still all fisted up in her lap. She lets me, and I figure that’s some kind of progress.

Her voice is quiet and a little shaky when she speaks again. “You got pretty banged up in that last fight I saw.”

I squeeze her hands. “I did.”

“You had to have surgery.”

“Yep. It sucked.”

“I didn’t say good-bye.” She won’t look at me now.

“That sucked too.” I was kept overnight so they could wire my jaw. By the time I got discharged, I didn’t know where Maddie had gone. She just disappeared. The next thing I heard, she had taken a bus to New York.

Maddie’s voice gets all quiet. “I’ve never told you what happened. Why I left.”

“Delores said you didn’t want the baby around my life.”

She nods. Her face is in shadow. Only a desk lamp is on. I can’t quite read her expression now that she’s turned away.

“They wouldn’t let me in the ambulance with you,” she says softly.

“I know. That still pisses me off.”

“I had to take a bus to the hospital. Nobody had a car.” Her voice gets even lower.

“You came?” I never saw her. I assumed she just took off from the fight.

She tries to pull her hand free, but I hold on tight.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I started having contractions. Really bad. They stopped the bus and called an ambulance. I ended up at a different hospital than you.”

At that, I jump to my feet. “What? Nobody told me that!”

“Nobody knew.” She stares up at me, towering over her now. “It took them four hours to stop the contractions. I was so scared.”

I can’t look at her. I walk over to the far wall and brace my hands on it. She had nobody. She had to do that by herself.

“I was just dehydrated. I was upset. Lily was fine. But…” She trails off.

I stare at the ground. No wonder she left. No wonder she couldn’t take it.

She’s so quiet that when her hand touches my back, I’m startled.

“I was so scared, Parker. I didn’t know where to go, what to do. I felt guilty, like I wasn’t protecting my baby.”

I’m angry. Not at her. Not really at myself either. Just at the shit world. Stupid screwed-up world.

She leaves her hand on my back. It’s cool and small. I can see her fancy shoes and bottom of the pants that are just the right length. She doesn’t need me in her world any more now than she did back then.

I stand there so long that she pulls away. I can’t bear it, so I whirl around and grab her, yanking her against me.

She doesn’t resist. I press my lips into her hair. “I would have been there, Maddie. You know it.”

“But you weren’t. You couldn’t be. You were hurt.”

I want to make it right. I want to make everything right. She’s not fighting me, not trying to get away. We were hot with it just two nights ago. Maybe we can get it back.

I push her hair back, away from her face. When my lips connect with her ear, I feel her knees buckle a little.

“I’ve lain awake thinking of you, Maddie,” I say.

Her fingers grip me tighter at my shoulder. I’ve got her. And Delores won’t be coming here this time.

I can’t screw it up.

I’m careful, so careful. I kiss her softly along the jaw, pleased when she exhales and relaxes against me. My hands stay in her hair, cupping her head, then flow through the strands.

I know her. I know that when I push just the right button, she’ll ignite again, like she always did, like last time. She’ll forget why she came here. Why she was mad. She’ll only think about what I’m doing to her. Where I’m touching her body.

I ease my palms down her back, across her shoulder blades, to her waist.

I’m hard as a rock, pressing painfully against my jeans. I pull her just a little bit forward, so we connect.

She sucks in a breath. She knows.

Now I strike, lips capturing hers, hands on her ass, pulling her hard against me. She moans against my mouth, opening to let me taste her.

Our hips grind together. I’m crazy with need, wanting everything now, but holding back, trying to take it easy.

But when she moves her hands to my belt and lets them slide their way up my chest, that’s it. I sweep her up so fast that one of her shoes hits the floor. In two seconds, I have her on the bed, her hair falling everywhere. I take her mouth again, tugging at the buttons of her jacket. Then it’s open, and beneath it is a silky shirt, cool and slippery. I follow the contours of her body, belly to ribs to neck. When I possess her soft breast, she moans again.

Her hands clutch my back, fingernails digging into my skin. I shove the shirt up and out of the way, yanking at the fragile cups of her bra. It’s too many layers, so I sit her up. The jacket hits the floor, then the shirt, and the bra.

And she’s mine, full on against me, skin to skin. She gasps, breathing hard, holding on to me like she’s falling.

And then we are, back onto the bed, my hands all over her, feasting greedily on everything I can get my mouth on — throat, nipples, breasts. The pants have to go, and I wrestle with the button. Then they’re down, and I lift away to look, her flat belly changed in texture, softer, gentler than it was before.

She covers something and I pull her hands away. The light is low, but I can make out what she’s hiding, thin white lines like lightning strikes on her skin. I kiss them, refusing to let her diminish anything that has to do with Lily, the changes our baby brought to her body.

Her panties are small, lacy, and pale. I tug on the band and pull them down. She’s naked now, every inch of her, and I want to take it all in. I spread her thighs apart, thumbs balancing against the soft hair between them.

And I can’t help it, but delve there, my tongue lapping at her. She’s already wet and hot and pulsing with need. I remember what she loved the most and slip one finger inside while I suck gently on the nub. I’m rewarded with those exquisite sounds of hers.

She moves with me, and I know I’ve got her. I follow her rhythm and keep the pace and pressure steady. Her muscles begin to tighten, and I work faster, harder, taking over, letting her fall into it. Her voice changes pitch, and I increase the tempo, bringing her up, spiraling her into the next phase.

Then she’s over the top, crying out, everything contracting and releasing, pulsating. It’s everything I remember and more, tinted with nostalgia and loss, like we’ve reached across time.

I don’t move until she’s relaxed down against the bed, her breathing a little slower. Then I move, crossing her skin with nipping bites, thigh and belly and back to those luscious breasts.

Her head is back, chin thrust in the air, eyes closed. I don’t know her situation, birth control, if she’ll even want to do more. I’m raging with need of her, but hell, this sort of thing was what got us in trouble in the first place.

I wait, trailing fingers along her body. It’s up to her. I can man up on this one if I have to. I am patient.

Her eyes open, and she watches me a moment. There’s tears there, just a sparkle of them. I brush my hand across her forehead. I want her so desperately, but I’ll wait.

“Do you…have something?” she asks.

I’m crossing the room in an instant, tearing through the duffel bag for my wallet, snatching a condom from inside.

Maddie props up on her elbows, half-smiling, as I rip my jeans off so fast that I trip and fall into the bed. “You might want to work on your balance—” but she doesn’t get any further because my mouth is on hers. I press against her, flush on her body. I feel like I might explode.

She shifts over and reaches for me, cool fingers wrapping around the length. I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating, working to feel her and not to lose control.

My fingers slip back into her body. Her back arches and her grip on me tightens. She’s so wet, so ready. I think back to that first time we discovered each other, in her bedroom at her mother’s house. No one was home, and the afternoon sun revealed every inch of her glorious body laid out on the flowery bedspread.

It’s like I’m discovering her all over again. When I move over her, my throat is tight. My feelings for her haven’t changed at all. I thought they had gone, taken off like she had. But when she opens for me, and I slide into her, it’s like coming home.

Her eyes drift closed and her knees brush my elbows. I take it easy at first, finding our pace and rhythm. But then her hands press into my back, driving me faster and harder, and I’m lost. I sit up, holding the backs of her knees, and drive into her.

She cries out, again and again, hanging on to the sheets now. She’s like a goddess, her hair splayed out, and as her body tightens around me again, I unleash into her, my voice joining hers.

We’re back where we belong.

* * *

I only realize we’ve drifted to sleep when Maddie’s hand smacks me on the cheek, knocking me awake.

I glance at the clock. Two in the morning. I wonder if Delores will worry, or if she’ll be angry, knowing Maddie is with me.

I don’t care.

Maddie tosses around, sleeping wild like she always did. I got very few chances to hold her all night four years ago, since she still lived at home and I had three roommates. She was only nineteen, and in community college, trying to make something of herself like so many from the East Side tried to do. I was living in a hole in the wall with other fighters, all of us trying to get by on crap winnings, mattresses all over the floor.

But we had some nights when one house or the other was empty, and we could steal some time. She slept like she was being chased, like she had to beat back the world.

The side lamp lights up her skin, and I savor every inch of her. Her hair crosses her face and I push it away. When she flops on her back, those beautiful breasts are too tempting and I kiss each one, tongue flicking around the plumped-out nipples.

She sighs in her sleep and settles down.

When I look into her relaxed face, those sweetheart lips and curling lashes, I see all the things she gave Lily. And I know that I am not going to let Maddie go.

I want them both.

I love them both.

Chapter Fifteen

Maddie wakes up in a panic a few hours later.

“Oh my God, it’s five a.m.” She starts throwing on her clothes. “Delores is going to shit a brick.”

I have to smile. Just a few hours with me and she’s wild again, cussing and naked and her hair like black fire dancing across her bare shoulders.

“You need me to go defend your honor?” I ask.

She throws a shoe at me — mine, not hers. I duck and it hits the wall. Damn it, this is so much better than being without her.

“You’re flying out this morning, right?” she asks, bending over to stick on those killer heels. She fights with them a second, then gives up and shoves them in her purse.

“My flight’s at ten.”

She steps on something and has to hold her hair back to look down at it. Her face scrunches into a frown.

I sit up and lean over the edge of the bed to see what’s getting to her.

A pink boxing glove.

We both stare at it a minute. Finally, I say, “I won’t talk to Lily about fighting anymore.”

Maddie shakes her head. “How are you going to do that? It’s what you do. It’s who you are.”

She picks up the glove. “Lily’s going to ask for them the minute she wakes up anyway.” She spots the other by the television stand and bends down to get it. Just watching her move gets me going again.

Maddie turns around, holding the gloves to her chest. “I took them from her bed. She was sleeping with them.”

I’m kneeling on the mattress now and her eyes graze me, naked and hard as a rock again. She laughs a little as she shakes her head. “You always were up for anything.”

“Everyone’s probably asleep right now,” I say, holding out my hands. “You’ve got time.”

Maddie looks away. “I don’t want to think about the condom in your wallet. I’m sure it wasn’t there long.”

She bites her lip, but turns back to me anyway and takes one step forward, just close enough to reach out and touch me with her free hand. She runs her fingertips down the center of my chest, along my abs, grazing every bump.

I hold my breath, waiting, praying she’ll keep going. And she does, wrapping around the shaft, sliding to the end, back to the top, and down again.

I’m going crazy. I need her now.

But she lets go. “You’re even more fit than you were back then,” she says. “And more inked.” She traces one of the tattoos on my chest.

I swallow hard. Carrying on a conversation in this situation is near impossible. She always loved tempting me and leaving me desperate with need, especially in terrible situations. Once she dragged me into the bathroom on Christmas Day, her entire extended family in the next room, and worked me over until I thought I’d burst.

Then walked out with an evil laugh.

I take the fact that she is doing it now to be an excellent sign of where I stand with her.

I manage to make my voice work. “I was supposed to buy you a tattoo for your twentieth birthday,” I say. “I see you never got one.”

“I got Lily instead,” she says.

“Maybe I can still get you that ink.” I imagine her, lights blasting her exposed body in some shop, a tattoo artist buzzing her skin, and I’m over the edge. I must have her.

I start planning how I will pin her to the bed, tie her to the posts with the bedsheets. She loved that stuff before. I will make her fucking scream.

Her lips twist into a smirk, like she knows what I’m thinking. She’s trying hard not to smile. “When did you say you were coming back?”

“Soon.” I move forward on my knees, just close enough to pounce.

But she knows my game. She takes a backward step toward the door. “I guess you’ll let me know,” she says.

I shift positions, ready to spring, when Maddie flings open the door to escape.

Right outside, a tiny elderly cleaning woman looks like she’s just arriving for her shift. The woman drops her keys when she sees me on the bed, naked, kneeling, erect as a porn star.

She looks at Maddie. “Is it my turn?”

Maddie bursts into laughter and drags the door closed.

I fall back on the bed.

I’m in absolute agony. Dying. I don’t see how I will make it another five minutes, much less a whole other trip. She’s got me right where she wants me.

And I don’t give one shit.

Everything is perfect.

* * *

A few hours later I’m about to head out of the motel to grab a bus to the airport when I get a call on my cell. The number is unfamiliar.

I answer it, hoping maybe it’s Maddie calling from work.

But it’s Panther.

“Yo, Power Play, you still in town?”

I sit back down on the bed. “About to catch my flight. Why?”

“I got a fight this week. Decent league match. And my guy just wrapped his car around a friggin’ tree.”

“Shit. Is he okay?”

“He’ll live. Broken kneecap, though. He’s out for months.”

My heart speeds up. I think I know where this is going. “You need someone to step in?”

“I do. I got some other fighters. But I liked what I saw yesterday. I thought I’d give you a go. You in?”

He gives me some details on the venue and the purse. “I’d like to train with you a couple days. You can bring your guy here, or I can spot you this match.”

Hell, I haven’t really talked to Brazen about moving here. He’s got a couple other fighters he works with. He can’t just ditch them.

“I doubt he can get here that fast,” I say. Plus, I think, I have to cut costs. Bringing him over would be expensive. “I’ll talk to him, though, get the contracts square. I’m happy to work with you on this one.”

“Good. Can you make it to the gym by eleven?”

“Not a problem.”

“See you then.”

I hang up the phone, staring with a little disbelief at the screen. Somebody is looking out for me. I’m on the verge of getting everything I have hoped for.

Chapter Sixteen

When I fall back on my bed that evening, I’m not sure I can move.

Panther has an entirely different workout routine from my regular trainer, Brazen. He’s killed me.

But I have a new move. It’s an exploding knee strike. I’ve done basic ones before, but this is something else entirely. You start on your belly and erupt into this gut-busting blow. Panther had me do about a million of them with one leg in a sling.

I’m not sure that leg is going to be even moderately functional in the morning. And I have to go back and do it again.

But I love it — love that I’m finding something new to work on, a way to improve. This is going to be a great move. I can feel it.

Maddie’s invited me over for dinner with Lily. I have a half hour to clean up and walk down. Still, my muscles refuse to cooperate with my brain for a minute. So I let myself lie there a little longer and think about her, spread out on this bed. I made the motel let me keep the same room when I checked back in. The startled little housekeeping lady has come by twice asking me if I need anything, winking at me from behind her bifocals. She makes me laugh.

I force myself up and to the shower. Maybe Maddie and I can sneak away again after Lily is in bed. Just the thought of it sends me to half-mast.

Now I’m definitely revved up enough to shower and walk over there.

When I get to the house, Lily answers the door. She’s wearing her pink gloves. “Pow, pow!” she says, raining punches on my knees.

I reach down and pick her up. “Good form, Power Punch.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and I realize I know her smell, a mix of baby shampoo and crayons. Her cheek rubs against mine, and she pulls back. “You need to shave those whiskers!” she declares.

I run a hand across my face. “Maybe so. I didn’t bring my fancy razor, though. Didn’t know I’d be here so long.”

Lily stares at me thoughtfully. “I’m hard to leave,” she says.

This gets a full belly laugh from me. “You’re exactly right.”

Maddie comes out of the kitchen, sweeping a lock of hair away from her eye. She’s got most of it pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s back to simple clothes. Jeans and a gray sweater. My throat closes up just seeing her, now that we’ve had this reconnection. I can’t decide if I should kiss her or not. Delores might melt down if she sees.

“Delores is out,” she says, as if knowing what I was thinking. “I think she’s avoiding you.”

I lean down and press a light kiss on her mouth. Lily is right between us, and she pushes us apart with the gloves. “Yuck!” she says.

A flicker of doubt crosses Maddie’s face. “Gloves on your bed, little miss,” she says. “Wash your hands for dinner.”

“It smells great,” I tell her. “Your mom’s lasagna?”

“You have a good memory,” she says.

“I loved that stuff.”

She turns back to the kitchen. “Good. It’s almost ready.”

I follow her over to the stove. Maddie bends to check on the contents, and it’s all I can do not to grab her beautiful ass. She sees me looking and smirks. “You are insufferable,” she says.

“Suffering, at least. Thanks to you this morning.”

Lily runs into the room, crashing into my leg. “Daddy, Daddy, sit by me, sit by me!”

I pick her up again. “Of course I’ll sit by you.”

“You two go on,” Maddie says. “The plates are on the table. Set them out.”

I carry Lily to the dining room. It’s hard to imagine that the last time I was there, Maddie asked me to leave. Life sure can turn on a dime.

“So show me where things go,” I say to Lily.

She wiggles out of my grasp. “This is Mama’s chair,” she says. We put a plate there. “And this is mine.” She sets one by her spot. Then she frowns.

“What?” I ask.

“I guess you have to sit in Auntie D’s chair.”

“That’s okay.” I slide a plate to that side.

As Lily arranges the forks and Maddie moves inside the kitchen, this pang in my chest grows into an ache. This is what it could have been like all along. This is what I’ve missed.

Maddie brings the steaming lasagna into the room to rest in the center of the table. “Can you go fetch the bread?” she asks. “It’s on the stove.”

I head into the other room, jaw tight, determination set. I am not going to screw this up. No way, no how.

***

By the time Lily is tucked into bed, my need for Maddie is threatening to blow out of my body like a flash fire. I know she’s thinking of it too, the way she glances at me and touches me in small ways on the arm or the leg.

I know we’ve got a quandary. Delores will come back and interrupt. And we can’t exactly leave Lily. I guess we’ll have to wait until the aunt is back and then leave.

“Why do you still live with Delores?” I ask her as she closes Lily’s door.

She motions me down the hall, back to the living room. When we’re out of hearing, she says, “I can’t manage without her.”

“But you can afford your own place now, right? You could just be somewhere close.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “It would be hard. This is much easier. I don’t have as many expenses. We’re safer here.”

“Don’t you have to commute into the city?”

She walks across the living room and sits in an armchair. That’s not a good sign. We could at least be tight on the sofa.

“I do, but it’s fine. I like my job, but I wouldn’t like living in Manhattan. Not that I could afford it.”

“She’s got to be all up in your business.” I sit down on the sofa, still hoping she’ll come closer.

Maddie tosses me a stern look. “You mean with other men?”

I know better, but I ask anyway. “Well, are there?”

“It’s none of your —”

I’m on her in a flash, grabbing her arm. “It’s my business now. You’re mine. I want you to be mine.”

Her anger blasts hot. “You’re three thousand miles away.”

“I’m not right now.” I can’t stop myself from saying it.

“Then stop acting like a jealous moron and do what you came here to do.”

I need no more invitation. I’m on her, lips crushing hers. Then the sweater comes off, over her head. Before she can think about the risk with Delores, her jeans are at her ankles, the bra flung across the room, and my hand is inside her panties.

She clutches my shoulders. “Parker,” she breathes.

My thumb circles her nub, and my fingers flutter inside her. When she moans, I lean down, capturing her breast with my mouth, sucking the nipple.

When her knees buckle, I step on the jeans to get them all the way off and tilt her sideways, lifting her up at the knees. She hangs on to my neck. I’m tempted to take her right there, on the sofa, daring Delores to come home and find us. But I don’t, instead carrying her down the hall to that messy bedroom.

The bed is still unmade. I let her shoulders rest on the bed, but the rest of her is mine. I grasp her thighs, high in the air, and split them wide. I dive in, lapping at her, holding her tight against me.

She writhes beneath me, her body tensing and releasing as I work her over. When I feel her getting close, that tension ready to snap, I let go and she crashes back to the bed.

“God, Parker. Please.” She sits up, and this time, she’s the one refusing to let things slow down. My belt jingles as she yanks it open.

But I’m not through with her. I let her get the pants down then grab her by the waist and flip her over. When she lands on her belly, I grasp her hips and pull her up to her hands and knees.

Everything’s right in front of me, pink and soft and wet. This time when my face lands there, she almost screams. She snatches a pillow and buries her face in it. Again, I bring her to a peak, but just when she’s going to topple over, I withdraw, slowing my fingers to a gentle brush against her skin.

She tries to turn around, but I hold her as I reach down for the condom. I can pin two-hundred-pound men, so she’s got no way to stop me from what I want. She bucks backward, trying to take advantage of the moment when I have to slide it on, but she’s too slow. I grab her hips, and before she can maneuver into a new position, I’m in her, pounding, holding her hair.

Maddie cries out into the pillow again. She’s working with me now, her body rocking with our rhythm. Her breasts swing beneath her and I reach for them, squeezing, slowing the pace, letting her catch her breath.

This time when she turns, I don’t stop her. I think she’ll lie down, but she doesn’t, crawling over to where I’m kneeling on the bed.

She climbs up my body, her eyes locked on mine. Her arms go around my neck, and she wraps her legs around my waist. She lifts herself high, and then I’m the one being forced as she sinks down onto me. I hang on to her ass, working with her, supporting her weight so she won’t tire out.

It’s getting to me, and I’m having to lock down my control as she eases up and down. I back away from the bed and stand in the middle of the room. Now I’m the one setting the pace, lifting her up and down, away from my body then thrusting her back in place.

She wants to grind against me, hard and tight, so I let her, feeling the pleasure ripple through her body. Her arms start to shake, so I drop her back to the bed.

She’s quivering with need. But I am so not done.

“I’m going to make you pay for this morning,” I tell her.

Her eyes go wide as I grab my jeans and pull the belt from the loops. Her breath speeds up, her chest rising up and down. She loves this. I know her.

I grab her wrists and encircle them with the belt. With a sharp tug, she’s locked in tight and I drag her across the bed to the headboard and buckle her to the post.

Her breathing is ragged, her body flushed red on her breasts and thighs. I tease her, one finger tracing the curve of her waist, her thigh, her knee. She’s trembling.

I let my thumb rest lightly between her legs, the softest pressure against the nub.

She groans and thrusts against my hand.

I pull away.

Her eyes squeeze shut. She thinks she won’t beg. That was always the game. What will it take to make strong Maddie beg?

I grab her knees and jerk them wide. When I lean close, she emits a small keening cry, knowing what’s coming. When my tongue fits into the cleft, she whimpers and strains against the belt.

I stab into her again and again, holding her open. She has to catch herself before she screams. She’s so swollen and hot. I pull back and the distress noises come again.

“I’m going to release the belt now and go back to my motel,” I say.

Her eyes fly open.

But she’s not begging.

I reach over her head for the belt. She’s breathing super fast.

“You want something?” I ask. I lean down to capture that hard nipple and suck on it, my eyes still up on her face.

Still no begging.

I lift away. “I’ll just undo this now.”

“PLEASE!” she cries out. “Now, please, now now now.”

I waste zero time but grab her ankles and tuck them on my shoulders. I give her exactly what I know she wants, deep, forceful thrusts that shove her against her bindings.

She can’t stop all the cries from escaping as her body explodes straight into the orgasm. Just the sound of her blasts right through my willpower, and I unleash into her. Everything shudders, my overworked muscles screaming, and euphoria roars through me like a drug.

She’s breathing hard, and I’m worse, panting and grasping her ankles. I quickly release the belt so she can sit up and hold on to me. Her whole body trembles and I get it, I know what she’s feeling. Vulnerability. Power. Trust. Danger. Release.

Everything we were before.

And the extra stuff now. This connection through our daughter and knowing that we’ve gotten this second chance to get it all back.

“I love you, Parker,” she says, and it’s almost a sob, like she’s confessing something horrible.

“I know, I know,” I tell her and stroke her hair. “We’re going to figure this out.”

On the far side of the house, the front door opens. Delores. There’s this long moment, then it slams. Maddie looks up at me, eyes wide and bright. “My clothes…”

I laugh, imagining the old biddy seeing the bra on the lampshade, a sweater on the floor.

Then Maddie starts giggling, and she can’t stop, and I know that no matter what, we’re going to make this happen. We’re going to be okay.

Chapter Seventeen

The night of my first East Coast fight comes damn fast. The arena is decent, not too different from where I fight in LA. The money is actually better, if I win. But worse if I lose.

I’m not going to lose.

It’s a four-fight lineup. I’m second. My opponent is Blitzkrieg, an older fighter who is hungry to make a name for himself before he ages out. He’s a lot like Colt in that once he gets a bead on your defensive style, he’ll exploit every weakness in a machine-gun round that is very effective in taking fighters down. He’s won eight of his last ten matches.

But then, I’m ten for ten.

Maddie is here, and this makes me more nervous than I normally am before a fight. She’s sitting on a metal folding chair in a corner of the green room, where a couple of the fighters have gathered, but mostly it’s random people, sponsors and girlfriends.

“I’d forgotten what this is like,” she says. She looks cool and serene in jeans and a silvery shirt. Her hair is blown straight, so it’s long. I sit close and twirl a piece between my fingers. She doesn’t know anyone, and I don’t really either. So I figure I’ll stick with her as long as I can, until I have to go back to get wrapped and warm up.

“You decided if you’re going to watch the fight or not?” I ask.

Maddie stares up into my eyes. “I don’t think I can.”

I reach down to squeeze her hand. “I haven’t lost a fight in a long time.”

“Being cocky is the fastest way to lose.”

I can’t argue with that. “I know. Trust me, I’m as nervous as a beginner right now. I just don’t think you’ll see a repeat of that fight four years ago.”

She winces at the mention of it and closes her eyes.

“It’s fine. Don’t go out there,” I say. “Just wait back here. I’ll tell you how it went when it’s over.”

She nods.

Panther sticks his head through the doorway. “Yo, Power Play, let’s go.”

I have to let go of Maddie. I didn’t ask her to come. She just did. I don’t know if this is some sort of test. Maybe it’s her way of figuring out if she can handle this now that she’s older and not so vulnerable.

I follow Panther down a hall. I already know what I’m doing with the winnings. I’m moving here. And I’m buying her a ring. I want Maddie with me. I want to lock her in. If we can get that for better or for worse, we’ll make it. I just know it.

The locker room isn’t fancy or segregated. We’re all in the same big concrete bunker. Blitzkrieg is in the corner with his trainer. He looks over at me and nods in greeting. He’s not quite as lean as me, and his legs aren’t as broad. His hair is almost corporate with its layered cut. He doesn’t really look like his name.

“Time for weigh-in,” a squat balding man says, and I step on the scale. I’ve worked hard the last couple days, so I’m a couple pounds down from topping out the weight category.

Blitzkrieg steps away to take a piss, no doubt to make sure he qualifies. I personally make sure I never have to dehydrate to fit in the weight class, although if I decide to drop to featherweight, I might have to. Probably best to bulk up to middleweight. I do know I won’t ever compete as a light heavyweight. The last thing I need is to have Colt in my weight class. I’m never going to go up against him. Not going to happen.

Blitzkrieg qualifies by mere ounces, giving him an edge on weight. But I’m not worried. It’s all about stamina, how much gas you have in the tank. Even if he gets a chance to unleash, I know he’ll burn through his energy. If I can survive it, I’ll take him for sure.

But Maddie’s going to be waiting. I don’t really want to take even one bashing from this guy. I want to look as unscathed as possible when I go back to her.

I need a clean, decisive, quick victory.

I’ve never needed it more than I do right now. Everything’s on the line. My career on this coast. Maddie agreeing to marry me. Life with Lily full-time.

Just one clean win.

Chapter Eighteen

One thing tends to be the same about fights. No matter how big or how small the arena, the fans will fill the space with noise.

I walk through the stands to screams and cheers. Nobody knows me, but they like seeing the fighters no matter who they are. Panther follows me, and one of his boys takes my sweats before I head into the cage.

An announcer calls out our names. Blitzkrieg comes up behind, and the crowd is definitely louder for the homeboy. An announcer shouts something about this being east versus west, and this riles the spectators even more.

Panther stands outside the cage next to me. “Remember, he’s got a weak left. Exploit it. Watch for that look he gives before he goes on his blitz. If he tries it, give it to him as good as he dishes it out.”

I adjust the mouthpiece against my lips. I can’t see out in the crowd due to the lights, but a figure moving along the front row catches my eye. The walk is familiar.

It’s Maddie.

Damn, she’s decided to watch.

I shove this out of my mind. The ref motions us to the center. It’s go time.

Blitzkrieg doesn’t even circle but starts punching right off. I dodge a little, judging his arm length, the speed of his hit, his positioning.

I don’t give him anything to go on at first. I just move, quick and in control, to avoid him. Within thirty seconds, he’s getting winded. This is going to be a piece of cake.

I figure the best method to take him is the old-fashioned way, one hard-core uppercut. If he takes that too easy, then I’ll go for a pin.

I wait for him to attempt a kick, and while he’s balancing, I strike. He blocks it but can’t follow up with his leg still dropping back. I jump at him, raining blows, seeing if he has a hole in his defense.

He’s on it, deflecting, unflinching in the ones I land.

Blitzkrieg grabs for my neck, trying to lock me into an upright grapple. I duck out of it and slam a knee into his ribs. He backs off.

I don’t want the match to go even one full round. The longer it takes, the more Maddie has to watch, and the more damage I’ll take. I want this over.

So I go. Knee, knee, sideswipe, kick, left, right, uppercut, SMASH.

Blitzkrieg takes it, then manages to wrap his arm around me again. I’m sick of this damn tactic. I grasp his waist and thrust, taking both of us to the cage floor.

The crowd noise starts to penetrate my concentration. Time to find out how his ground game works. I roll over him, landing elbows direct to his face. There’s blood, but it’s his, and I hope it’s not too much for Maddie to see. I have to get this done.

An armbar would be neater, cleaner, but I can’t get him over. He’s too experienced, been at this game too long to get tricked into a position like that.

Blitzkrieg wriggles loose and jumps to standing. I’m down, but I’ve been doing this flying knee strike for days with Panther. Might as well break it out now.

I leap up, knee aiming for his gut. I’ll knock him into the wall, turn him over, armbar, and out.

That’s the plan.

But Blitzkrieg knows exactly where I’m coming from, and the minute I connect, the heel of his hand goes straight into my face. I can feel the crunch, and I’m momentarily blinded with pain. I stumble back, and that’s his opening. I know it. I sense it coming. I never should have tried a new move I wasn’t prepared to defend. Every offense has to have a solid defense. I know this. You can’t attack and leave yourself open to a countermove.

Everything is red for a second. My head snaps one direction, then the other. I jab at Blitzkrieg, but I’m blinded and it lands soft.

I can’t figure out which direction is up. I know I’m falling but I’m not sure which way. I can see Blitzkrieg’s red shorts, but I can’t aim for them.

My hand hits the cage floor, then my shoulder, then my head. There’s no whistle, no end, and Blitzkrieg does exactly what I would do — he keeps fighting. He has to make sure. He has to get them to call the fight.

Maybe they do. I’m not sure. Because at that point, the roar in my ears fades into black.

***

This is the end of Fight for Her #1.

Find #2 on .

Or skip ahead and pick up the entire series .

FIGHT FOR HER is a four-book series about Parker and Maddie.

Thank you for reading!

Love, JJ 

Fight for Her is part of JJ Knight’s the Uncaged Love books about MMA fighters. If you missed Colt and Jo’s story, you might enjoy going back to read their love affair in Uncaged Love, .

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