Chapter Fifty
Shane
The smack of wood signaled ten seconds to go, and I blinked at the blood pouring down into my eye. Damn, he got me with that elbow. I was on my back, and he was doing his damnedest to pass my guard.
Movement caught my attention, and I lifted my fists just in time for Conrad’s glove to hit mine instead of landing another head shot. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and jerked his head down onto my chest to prevent more blows. Just had to hold him for a few more seconds.
The bell rang out, ending the second round, and the ref broke us apart. My forehead throbbed, pain radiating from the still-bleeding cut on my eyebrow as I followed the sound of my coaches’ voices to my corner. Immediately Liam went to work on the gash, pushing the ice-cold eye-iron to relieve the swelling and following up with a cotton-swab soaked in epinephrine and a glob of Vaseline.
The first round I’d come out strong, swinging and landing several jabs and a big hook that might’ve ended in a win if the bell hadn’t rung and given him time to rest up.
Last round, he’d had a good takedown there at the end, one I should’ve seen coming since it was his go-to move. Then he’d thrown that elbow that split open my eyebrow. Not a great way to go into the third round, but I’d work it out.
Finn talked strategy as I sucked in what water I could and the doctor came over to check on my eye.
“It’s fine,” I said. Which I’d say even if it wasn’t. With the blood wiped away and my vision mostly clear again, I could make it through one more round. Not just make it through—I planned on winning this fight.
Brooklyn believed in me, and no way in hell was I letting her down. Knowing her, she’d take the blame and decide her message had hurt instead of helped, when it was my main reason for giving everything I had. At the end of the third and final round, I didn’t want to look back and think I could’ve done more.
Once the doctor declared me good enough to continue, my corner gave their last advice, rapid-fire style, and then I was walking to the center of the cage.
We didn’t bother to touch gloves—Conrad’s decision, not mine, although there was no love lost on this end. He started up with the trash talk right away as we circled each other, his eye slightly swollen from the punches I’d landed first round. “Couldn’t help but notice Brooklyn’s not over there cheering for you. Don’t take it too hard. That’s her thing, not showing up and then crying about it.”
I let the rage flow through my veins, a natural shot of adrenaline I’d use the instant I found the right opening. Conrad attempted to shoot on me and wrap up my legs, but unlike last round, I sprawled in time. Which also set him up for a solid knee to the face. He stumbled back, and I stepped forward and threw my left hook, putting everything I had behind it.
It was one of those punches you felt the connection and how it’d landed just right. Conrad went down hard, his body smacking the mat, limbs limp. The ref leaned over his prone form, but I wasn’t going to swing again, and Conrad wasn’t going to be getting up for several seconds.
TKO—the perfect way to end my first fight back in the cage. The crowd erupted, or more likely, the cheering finally registered. Fans were always happy about the fights with clear winners, no split decision or confusion over who won. I headed to my corner, where my coaches slapped my back and shouted their congrats, and I saw my mom coming through the crowd. I asked the boys to let her in, and she threw her arms around me.
“I knew you could do it,” she squealed.
“Wouldn’t be here without you,” I said, and she squeezed me again.
One moment blurred into the next, and then a guy shoved a microphone in my face. He asked me some basic questions, and of course the fact that I’d taken a break after “several big losses” got thrown into the mix. “How’d you come back from that?”
“Those losses were right after my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I fought some tough opponents, so I’m not taking anything away from them, but I needed to take a break. Once she kicked Cancer’s ass, I asked Team Domination to get me into fighting shape, and I have to thank them for doing exactly that so quickly, and for arranging this fight for me.”
I looked toward my corner. Brooklyn was here in spirit and all—not to mention the person responsible for putting me in the cage tonight—but I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her and tell her that I loved her. Instead of throwing up my walls and letting her walk out of my life, I should’ve fought harder to show her that we could make it work. That together we could take on anything and everything.
The microphone was shoved in my face again, and I had no earthly idea what had been asked.
I wiped my forearm across my forehead. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to repeat that.”
“You’ve said before that Cyclone Jones is one of your idols, and now you’re fighting the same night, in the same cage. Are you looking forward to watching him take on the current belt holder?”
My gaze returned to my team. I tapped my wrist, asking for the time. After a few exchanged mime impressions, Liam figured out what I was asking and mouthed the time. I turned back to the guy with the mic. “I’m excited, and I’ll be cheering for him to win that belt tonight. But honestly, I’m going to have to catch the replay, because right now, I’ve gotta go win back my girl.”
“Did you want to give her a shout-out?” he asked with a chuckle. “Maybe that’ll help.”
“Sure,” I said, even though she probably wasn’t listening, and it’d take more than a shout-out to win her over. It might take me weeks or even months, but I’d prove to her that the odds didn’t apply to us and that she could put her faith in me, however long it took. When you cared about someone, you stuck around and worked it out, regardless of the ups and downs, and even if that meant taking big risks and altering your definition of sticking around. So the world might as well know that she was as good as mine, and I was hers. “Brooklyn, you and I aren’t through, not by a long shot. I’m coming for you, and I’m not gonna rest until you’re mine.”