Chapter 13
I’m knocking the hell out of the heavy bag, releasing all my guilt and anger into the leather. Why am I feeling guilty? I haven’t told Whitney and it’s eating me the fuck alive. But I can’t bring myself to tell her. I’ve tried so many times, but it gets stuck in my fucking throat, horrified by what her eyes will say. I’ll have to tell her soon because…
Today’s the day my punishment will be handed to me.
Brian is set to be here any moment. He’s been scrambling and working hard with the owners and commissioners of the MMAT to have them understand the circumstances.
Daniel walks through the door dressed in slacks and a polo shirt. It’s been awkward not having him here, but now that he is, wearing the fancy shit…yeah, it’s much more awkward.
“Slacks? You’re looking mighty professional,” I say with laughter.
“I’m out of sorts in these things. I’m glad I never pursued an office job,” he jokes back.
I follow him into my small conference room tucked in beside my office. He sits in one of the chairs at the round table and I drop across from him. It’s mere seconds when Flynn steps in wearing the same attire.
“I guess I missed the memo about proper attire,” I laugh.
Flynn chuckles and sits beside Daniel. “How’s Whitney?”
I smile. “Healing well. She’s back to herself.”
“That’s good.”
Brian strides in and pushes the door shut. Focus is etched on his face as he takes a seat between all of us and drops a folder to the table.
He glances at me, crestfallen, and I know I’m fucked.
“Ryker, I’ve met and talked with everyone,” he states pulling out papers from the folder. He thumbs through them and pulls out one. “They all send their apologies and well wishes for Whitney. Because of the incident, they decided to set forth extra security measures by placing a security guard at the entrances to all the bathrooms—fighter’s hall and public. But they say this is one of those times where ‘things happen’ take the cake. Freak accident ordeal. They also stated Mr. Henderson will no longer be allowed to any events sanctioned by the MMAT or the MMAP.”
Bastard better be glad he’s alive.
He scans everyone and takes a deep breath before sliding a piece of paper in front of me. “Basically, this states that your access to the MMAP has been denied.”
I drop my head, frustrated and disappointed.
“In their contract you signed, you agreed to one chance at the championship. They were lenient enough to allow you a second chance—one no other fighter has ever gotten. In my opinion it was because of the publicity, but that’s neither here or there. Unfortunately, because of the forfeit, you resigned your rights to enter the MMAP.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose without looking up.
“I fought like hell to get you something. They’re allowing you to continue to fight in the MMAT—”
“For what?” I snap, slapping the table. “To be a fucking gate keeper? You have to get past me to get a championship? They lose, I gain nothing. It’s like fighting your way out of a motherfucking wet paper bag on a fucking tight wire. There’s no ace in that hand for me.”
“They also granted you permission to coach,” he says.
I place my elbow on the arm rest and put my fist to my mouth—holding up my chin. I stare between Daniel and Flynn. “So basically, fuck all my coaches’ work, fuck all my work, fuck the fact it was an emergency, a freak fucking accident that I had no choice but to forfeit, and fuck everyone who put in all the energy? Oh! And a big fuck you to my manager?”
“It’s the name of the game. Each of us in the room know the rules,” Brian states.
“Heartless fuckers,” I exhale under my breath and then shift in my seat. “How long did they give me to think about this?”
“Two weeks.”
“Do they pay me or the fighter I train?”
“Your fighter pays you for training, just as you do with Daniel and Flynn. After you win, the association cuts you a part of the winner’s check.”
I’m bouncing my knee, infuriated as hell. I rest back into my chair and steeple my fingers. “Do they pick who I train or do I?”
“You,” Brain answers.
“What’s the catch?” I scoff.
He blinks.
“It’s not that fucking easy, sign someone up, coach them, etcetera, etcetera. There’s a catch. What is it?”
Brian scratches his head. “Your fighter has to win. If not, either you drop him and find a new man to train, or if you deny that, you lose your job all together.”
I pan the table. “You guys were sitting on bank with me,” I grumble. “You had no worries. I’d always win. Un-fucking-defeated until…” I stand, feeling my temper begin to claw from my throat. I slam my fist on the table. “Fuck!”
“If it amounts to anything, all of us were sitting in that conference defending you,” Daniel’s tone is somber.
“Everyone but me,” I grit. “The one all this surrounds. Can I do both? Fight and coach?”
Brian searches through the papers before tightening his lips and shrugging. “I don’t know. I’d have to ask. I didn’t think to ask that question. Daniel, do you know that answer?”
Daniel shakes his head. “Never had a need to know that answer. I’m not ever getting into the ring.”
Flynn shakes his head, frowning.
Brian scribbles something down on paper. “I’ll call them and find out. Why would you want to do both?”
“Family,” I state. “You’re all my fucking family and I don’t know what I’m doing without you.”
Brain straightens his papers, stands up, and slaps my shoulder. “Manager or not, I’m still family. We’ll talk soon.”
I watch him walk out of the room before I speak again. “I’m sorry, coach,” I say suddenly feeling defeated.
Daniel clears his throat. “For what? Doing the same thing I would’ve done? Don’t be sorry, Ryker. I’m far from mad. I’m proud of you.”
“Agreed,” Flynn adds. “Had you stayed, I would’ve left. You’re egotistical, hard-headed, stubborn as hell, and a complete dickhead at times, but you’ve never been selfish. Had you walked out for that fight, I would’ve lost all my respect for you.”
Daniel hugs me, slapping my back with three solid hits. “It’s not the end. It’s the beginning of something. Might look bleak now, but you’ll turn the lights on. You always find a way. Call me if you need me.”
Flynn’s next to hug me, but he doesn’t say anything as he leaves. I look to where Brian was sitting. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
I walk out the door to hit the heavy bag some more when my feet stop, cemented to the ground. My pulse is gone. Whitney is standing there with eyes red and angry from crying.
“What are you doing here?” That’s the first fucking thing I say?
“When were you going to tell me?”
I scratch the back of my neck, shifting on my feet. “When I knew one hundred percent.”
She pins me with a hostile stare. “How long have you known your position was in jeopardy?”
“That night,” I admit.
“You lied to me.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“You’ve lied through your teeth, Ryker,” she snaps.
I’ve seen her mad, but never irate and right now, she’s scaring the hell out of me. She might appear calm, but her voice shakes and her eyes burn with anger and hurt.
“I’ve asked you questions, but you’ve skirted around the truth. You led me to believe whatever I wanted. Tell me how you haven’t lied to me,” she grits.
“I didn’t know what to tell you. I didn’t want to add more pain to you and have you think it was your fault,” I tell her the best truth I have.
“But it was,” she says.
“If Kyce had stayed with you—”
“He didn’t,” she scathes. “I, an adult, made a decision without informing my babysitter, your guard dog. We’ve traveled that road. It’s over with. Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you hide this from me?”
I don’t have a good fucking explanation other than, “I didn’t want you to worry about it.”
She huffs, slinging her hand in the air. “Everyone knows before me. Even Abby.”
“Not how you’re perceiving it. When she came over that night to help me with you, everything got brought up.”
She purses her lips, her whole expression dispirited. “So all this is your way of protecting me?”
“Yeah. You can say that.”
“I’ve dealt with and found a way to appreciate your absurd need to protect me. But this sides with deceit. You never hold secrets from me, yet here you are. I’m the last to know about something so damn life changing. I had to stumble on it. Why? Because you were scared to tell me?”
“I’ll protect you however I need to. You don’t—”
“While his hands were around my neck, stealing away the air, it was you I heard. Your voice was like a beacon guiding me to safety. Although not there physically, you were there desperately trying to protect me by telling me what I should do to save my life. I did just as you told me to, but I wasn’t quite strong or fast enough. Why did I listen? Because I trust you. I freaking trust you, Ryker.” Her fists are balled at her side, her face red with anger.
“You don’t have to relive that.” I step to her to comfort her when her voice quivers, but she stops me, holding up a hand.
Her smile is so weak it crushes my heart. “But I do. I was there because I support you. Fully. In anything you do. I believe in you. Respect your desire to conquer the world. All I ask from you is honesty and respect. And you’ve fucked up both while I’ve reaped the ugly disadvantages of proudly rooting for you. Lies. That’s the thanks I get.”
“You didn’t need anything else to worry about. I didn’t want you upset and feeling guilty because, Whitney, I’d do it all over again. I knew the repercussions before I made my decision.”
Her smile is spiteful. “I want so badly to feel bad for you. To comfort you and tell you how everything will be okay. I want so badly to sit down and help you make the decision that will make you the happiest.”
“You don’t have to feel bad, Whit. I have time to decide.”
She shakes her head releasing a cry. “You don’t get it. I hate you for lying to me.” Her stare lingers as tears fall to her cheeks.
Those three words…I’ve never wanted to hear. My heart shatters. My breath sticks in my throat. “Whit…” I start toward her.
“Don’t.” She glares at me. “I’ll be home later.”
She leaves me staring at the exit door.
“I fucking deserved that,” I say to the empty room, dragging my hands through my hair, and pulling.
I drop to the bench with my head in my hands. “Fuck.”