by Emma Nichole
I can hear him calling for me from his hospital bed.
“I’ll be right out,” I say through the door, then I go about my business in the bathroom before washing up and heading back out to him.
“You okay?” he asks me, sitting up completely in the bed.
“You’re the one in the hospital and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” I walk over to him and perch at the end of the bed by his feet, and he immediately reaches to take my hand, which I happily allow.
“I always want to know if you’re all right. I’m fine. I’ve got my medication. I’ve slept some. My body has rested overnight. I’m good as new.”
I drop my hand from his.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t put on this act like you’re completely okay when you’re not. For Christ’s sake, Marco, you’re in the hospital.”
“No, I’m not in the hospital. I was never admitted. I was kept in the ER overnight for observation. Those have two very different connotations,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Are you serious right now? The bottom line is something happened to you and you had to come here to be observed, as you put it.” I stand up, suddenly needing a bit of space to move around.
“Yeah, and now I’m fine. They checked my head. Gave me some meds. Prescribed me this injection thing for my migraines. I’m okay now.”
“But you won’t be if you keep doing this. You just won’t be.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, but I’ve heard enough people say the same thing in the small amount of time I’ve known you, so I have a pretty good idea it’s accurate.”
“I’m getting a second opinion. There’s no way I can walk away from this. I just can’t.”
“Why? Is it because of Braxton White?” I say and he grimaces. His hands curl into fists in anger.
“What about him?”
“We’ve talked about him, you and I. Nora even told me all about your need to prove something where he is involved. And I saw the things he’s been saying about you, and I know you’ve seen them too.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even get the chance to because we are immediately interrupted by the daytime nurse coming in to see him. She’s a young, tiny brunette thing who has the kindest voice.
“Mr. Masen? I’m Danielle. I’m coming to take your vitals and see if we can’t get you out of here now. Sound good?”
“That sounds perfect, Danielle. I am ready to get out of here.”
“We’ll have you well on the way. The doctor will leave any suggestions he has for you in the paperwork, but it’s mostly still what you discussed last night.”
My hands fall to my side as she wraps the blood pressure cuff around his bicep. He talked to the doctor about all of this last night and still hasn’t said a thing to me about it.
“I need some air. I’ll be right back.”
“Faith…wait,” he says.
“I’ll be right back, Marco. I promise.”
He seems to believe my words because he doesn’t press any more. I slip out of the room and head out into the early morning air, inhaling deep.
He is going to fight himself into an early grave and there is nothing any of us can do to stop him.
Falcon
The ride to the airport is a long one; with my mind whirling with everything the doctor told me before we left the hospital.
“I’m not your personal doctor but, Mr. Masen, I can tell you with certainty that your body cannot last under this type of repeated stress. Every brain and body handles trauma differently. Yours has been put under an immense amount of it since a very young age. Since before your brain was even fully developed. You’ve had an illustrious career. It is my professional opinion that you should walk away.”
I’ve heard it all before, but having Faith in the room to hear it all made it ring a little more true. More serious.
She hasn’t said anything since she came back into the room to hear what the doctor had to say before we left.
Even now, as we sit in the back seat of the SUV, with Vincent and Joe in the front, she is curled into the window with her body angled away from me.
“Baby...talk to me,” I say in a soft voice.
She sniffles a bit, but doesn’t look at me before she speaks. “What do you want me to say?”
“Anything. Tell me what you’re thinking about. Tell me what you had for breakfast. Tell me I’m a fucking idiot. Anything. Just talk to me. I don’t like you’re so shut off right now.”
She finally angles her body toward me. “I don’t want to have a conversation like this in front of them.” She nods her head toward the front.
“They aren’t listening to us, Faith.” I reach across the car and take her hand, and thankfully, she lets me.
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Why can’t you just stop?”
“Because I’m not ready yet. It’s not time. What am I going to do when I stop? I don’t have any skills. I didn’t go to college. Am I going to just work some bullshit job that anyone with a high school diploma could do?”
“If it keeps you alive, sure. You can go back to school. You can do more with the children you help. Open your own gym. You can do anything. You don’t have to risk your life every day to prove a point.”
“You sound like my sister. It makes all the things I want to do to you right now a little weird.” I smirk.
“She must be a smart cookie then. Maybe listen to us. You might learn a thing or two.” She smiles just a bit, but she tries to hide it.
“Faith...” I reach over and press the button to unbuckle her seat belt.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to hold you.”
I tug her across the bench and settle her over my lap, wrapping my arms around her, burying my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent.
She rests one hand on my chest and wraps the other arm around my neck, clinging to me like I’m her life source.
“I’m sorry this happened. I didn’t want anything to go wrong while you were with me,” I mumble against her skin.
“Stop. Don’t apologize for that. Just take care of yourself, Marco. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. I just need to know that you’ll be okay, because I’m not sure I can handle the thought of something even worse happening to you.”
I hold her just as we are until we roll to a stop at the airport.
Back to California we go.
One step closer to home.
One step closer to her leaving me to go back to her home.
One step closer to having to admit to her, even after all of this...
I’m still finishing what has been started with Braxton White.
Chapter 28
Faith
With each step down to the lobby we go, the angrier and more hurt I become. We landed back in California five days ago, and I never would have imagined we’d end up where we are right now.
A pre-fight party thrown by the WFC.
Falcon, and that’s who he is right now because my Marco isn’t this arrogant or reckless, has decided the fight will go on with Braxton White.
When he told me, I couldn’t contain my tears. I didn’t even try to.
I heard him fighting on the phone with Nora shortly after that, then again with Joe the moment he finished with her.
I even heard Joe say, when he came over to confront him face-to-face, he tried to have Denver Wyatt call off the fight, but he didn’t because it’s too much of a moneymaker and the doctors technically cleared Marco to fight, so at the end of the day, it’s his choice.
What a selfish, money hungry piece of trash he is.
We tiptoed around each other after he told me he was still going to fight. I made a point to completely avoid discussing it. I couldn’t stomach it anymore. Not after the things I heard the doctor say.
“Baby?” He squeezes my hand as we step onto the elevator to head up to the ballroom.
“You’re quiet.”
“Mmmhmm. I just don’t have much to say right now.”
“I know you’re angry with me—”
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Marco. I’m angry, confused, and scared.” I stare straight ahead, not even looking up at him.
“You have to understand why I need to do this,” he says.
I finally turn to look up at his face. “I do, and I think that’s what scares me the most.”
He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the doors slide open and we are greeted with a flurry of people. Some ignore us completely, other descend upon him like moths to a flame.
How are you?
Are you all right?
How’s the head?
Still kicking, huh?
Docs clear you?
I just stay quiet through it all, only speaking when someone talks to me directly or when Marco introduces me to someone.
I meet musicians, Hollywood actors, other fighters and the like, and while all of this should excite me, all I can think about is how badly I want him to walk away from this.
“Marco?” I tug on his hand then rise up on my wedge sandals to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to find a restroom. I’ll find you when I’m done.”
“I can walk you,” he says, but I stop him with a hand to his chest. “No. Stay here. Mingle with your people. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He cups my face in his hands and bends forward to kiss my lips softly. No matter how I’m feeling, the sensation of his lips on mine still makes me melt where I stand.
“I’ll be right here,” he says.
I nod before excusing myself to weave through the crowd in search of a bathroom.
***
The wait is obviously insanely long for the bathroom, but I finally get in, handle my business, freshen up my lipstick in the mirror then step back out into the hallway area.
The hall that leads back down the ballroom is long, and there are multiple seating alcoves every few feet situated into cutouts in the wall with curtains over them, giving whomever is occupying them a bit of privacy for whatever it is they may need them for. I’m assuming the hotel intends them to be used for meetings, but I think everyone knows better at events like this.
Midway down the hallway, one of the curtains that shields one of the alcoves is tossed back and a young girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, comes stumbling out. She’s clearly three sheets to the wind.
A man comes out behind her and grips her upper arm hard enough that she reacts, trying to tug it away, and saying he’s squeezing too hard.
The man is large, nearly as big as Marco, with tan skin and sandy blond hair. He has sleeves of tattoos on each arm and his voice sends chills up my spine.
“Is that a yes, then?” He crowds her into the wall and grips her face in his hands then turns.
I slip behind a curtain, but I peek out to keep an eye on the situation. Her body language isn’t comfortable like someone who wants something like this. Her hands are fisted at her sides and she looks beyond tense.
“Maybe, Braxton,” I hear her say.
Holy shit...Braxton White.
“Wrong answer,” he growls before burying his face in the crook of her neck. She tries to push him off, but he doesn’t stop.
“Braxton, no.”
So many memories rush back to me in this moment.
Saying no. Pushing him away. Wanting to fight harder but being too drunk to be able to.
I wish there had been someone there to step in for me. I wish there had been someone there to protect me.
With that in my mind, my feet move without me even really realizing it.
“Hey,” I say. It’s all I can come up with to at least get their attention, to at least get him to stop touching her.
He turns toward me and I finally get a close look at his face. He is traditionally good-looking, but there is this look in his eye that reads as just...evil.
“I’m a little busy, sweetie. I’ll sign your tits later,” he says and turns his attention back to the girl.
I scoff, disgusted. “Honey, are you okay?” I ask the girl.
She goes to look at me, but he answers for her. “She’s fine. You can go now, Nancy Drew.”
“She doesn’t look okay to me. It seems like she’s trying to push you off and you aren’t letting her.” I stand my ground, not backing down.
He laughs. “Jacy, baby, tell the nice lady that you’re safe as can be with me.”
The young girl, whom is definitely no older than eighteen now that I can see her up close, turns her face toward me. Her bottom lip is trembling and she has tears in her eyes. Her pupils are dilated, telling me she is under the influence of something, be it alcohol or something stronger.
“I’m fine,” she tells me softly.
I don’t believe her, not for a moment. “You do know that you can say no if—”
“That’s enough. Get your fucking nose out of my business and move on,” Braxton growls, turning his entire body to face me, taking a step forward. I instinctively step back out of fear.
He holds my gaze for entirely too long before a smile spreads across his lips.
“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re the one Falcon is fucking this week.”
“What?” I ask, thoroughly confused as to how he would know this.
“I’ve seen pictures of you with him. You’re not his usual type.” He licks his lips. “He seems to attract the big tits, plastic-faced, would gargle on any cock that bobs their way type. I can just smell on you that you require a bit more of a chase.”
He steps even closer and I want to vomit. I look over his shoulder and see that Jacy has taken the chance, now that he’s focused on me, to leave the area. I can only hope she’s leaving the party as a whole.
“What I am is none of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, after your boyfriend attacked me in the middle of a casino, everything he does officially became my business.”
“You sound a little obsessed,” I say to him, trying to channel all of the inner strength I have.
“Nah, I just like toying with him.” He reaches out to twirl a piece of my hair around his finger. I reach up and push his hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“You seem to think you have some kind of say in what I do, baby. Don’t you know who I am?” He leans in toward my face. I can smell the beer on his breath. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
“Get. Away. From. Me.” I stand tall. I don’t cower.
“You know, I always wanted to fuck Falcon’s smoking hot sister, but I have a feeling making his girlfriend come all over my cock two nights before our fight would be even sweeter.”
This is the kind of man who hurt me all those years ago. This is the kind of man who thinks everyone owes him something and he can do anything he wants with no repercussions.
He lazily grazes his hands down from my face, over my arms and even lower, leaving a trail of sickening fire in his wake. He then slides his hand up my inner thigh, and I’m instantly regretful of the dress I chose to wear.
No.
Don’t you dare, Faith, I tell myself.
This is not your fault.
It’s not because you wore a dress. It’s not because you have on makeup. It’s not because of anything you did.
This. Is. On. Him.
“Get off of me!” I use both hands on his chest to shove him backward with all of my might, doing exactly what I wish I could have done that day in college.
He stumbles back and his shoulder hits the opposite wall, and he just laughs.
“I like it when they fight,” he says with a sickening grin.
I have a moment, one singular moment of panic, but then a group of people turns down the hall and makes their way toward the bathroom...Joe included.
Before he can get close enough to hear me, I push past Braxton.
<
br /> “Don’t come near me again,” I tell him.
“Is everything okay back here, Ms. Faith? Falcon asked me to come check on you,” Joe says when he approaches me. He looks over my shoulder and sees Braxton.
“Everything is fine,” I tell him. “Let’s go.”
We take one step away and I hear Braxton speak from behind me.
“Better tell your boy to protect that defective head of his. Once I knock him out, I won’t stop until they pull me off. Fines and charges be damned. After I fuck him up, I’ll come find you, and you can lick his blood from my knuckles while I fuck you.”
I see red...nothing but pure rage.
I turn back toward him and put every ounce of my body, every ounce of my fear, every ounce of my anger and rage into my fist.
I curl back, the way Marco taught me, and throw a single, solid punch, connecting perfectly with his left cheek.
Everything happens fast. Those around us gasp. Joe steps up and pulls me behind him, placing himself between Braxton and myself.
“I highly suggest you walk away now,” Joe tells him.
Braxton looks around and sees the audience that has now formed in the darkened, once secluded hallway, then wipes the blood that is now seeping from his cheek.
The ring I’m wearing on my hand sliced into his skin.
“This isn’t over. Tell Falcon this will be settled in the Octagon and by the end of it, he’ll be lucky if he ever walks again,” he says so low that only Joe and I can hear. “Now, I have an inebriated date to go find.”
My stomach curls and I want to punch him in the other cheek this time as he walks by us and back into the main party area.
I close my eyes and finally take deep breaths. As the adrenaline leaves my body, I can feel my hand throbbing. I look down at it and shake it out slightly.
“Fuck. It hurts,” I tell Joe.
“Come on. Let’s go get some ice for that. I’ll take you back up to the room; then I’ll come back down and find Falcon. He was doing an interview with ESPN. I have to say, Faith, you’ve got some right hook.”
“Thanks to a good teacher.”