Hard Drive Boxed Set

by Tricia Andersen

  Maybe I’ll just have to silence her lips with a lot of hot kissing tonight.

  As Mankato’s city limits came into view, Max directed his steps toward the cafeteria instead of the dorm. He was starving. He needed to eat. Unfortunately, those around would have to deal with his sweat for a little bit. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve before yanking the door open. Snatching up a tray, he shuffled through the options, picking up the healthiest available. He settled at a table by himself, taking a huge mouthful of salad.

  The table wobbled a bit as the chair beside him shifted. The hand that held his second bite was yanked from his lips as a tiny pair of arms wrapped around his.

  “Hey, baby,” Tori crooned.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Max tugged against her grasp. “Tori, I love you, but I’m starving. Could I have my hand back?”

  She let up her grip a little so he could eat, but never released him. Max shrugged and dove back into his meal.

  Tori kissed his cheek. “I talked to Denver today.”

  Max nearly spit out the chicken breast he had popped into his mouth. “The agent? Why?”

  “He has the best offer, Max. If you sign with him, he’ll get you to the UFC.”

  Max shook his head. “Tori, I don’t want you to talk to agents for me. I want to graduate. Hell, I want to get past this next fight. It’s my life.”

  He couldn’t miss her lips curl into a pout. “I thought it was our life. Our future. I thought you wanted me to be your wife.”

  “It is. I do. But this is my body taking a beating in the octagon. Not yours. Please, let me get through this next fight without any more agent talk. As soon as it’s over, we’ll discuss it. All right?”

  Tori stared at him in silence for a long moment. Then she smiled. “All right.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.” She kissed his cheek. “So, what do you want to do tonight?”

  Max let go a long exhale. “Relax. Maybe watch movies.”

  “Want to stay at my apartment?”

  Max grinned at her. “You know it. Let me get some clothes.” He picked up his tray and empty plates and walked them to the conveyor belt leading to the kitchen. Taking Tori’s hand in his, he led her back to his room to grab his things.

  »»•««

  Fight camp enveloped every moment of Max’s time when he wasn’t in class. He was up at the crack of dawn to run. He was in the fitness center four to five times a day to lift, roll, and spar. Too many times, he fell asleep in Tori’s bed before she could get ready for him. No matter how many times she tried to wake him up, he wouldn’t. Max heard all about it the next morning before he took off for his run.

  Everyone was thankful when the day of weigh-ins arrived. Of course, Max and Quinn both came in at weight. Tori stole Max away for a night of homemade supper, movies, and sex, with breakfast the following morning. Max had no idea where Quinn disappeared to, but he was at the fitness center when Max arrived the next afternoon. He wasn’t very awake, but he was there.

  That evening, the thundering rock music vibrated off the dark walls of the exhibition center. Max grinned. A little over a year ago, he had been quaking in his boots in this very place, waiting for his first fight. Admittedly, he was still nervous. He always would be. But it was nothing like that first night.

  He grinned again as Quinn strode up and slapped him on the shoulder. “Burgers after this?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Max laughed.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. And you? You fight before me.”

  “Feeling great. About to go over a couple last things with Chuck. Good luck, man. Like you need it.”

  Max could sense the tinge of jealousy in my best friend’s voice. “You don’t need luck either, Quinn. That guy won’t know what hit him.”

  Quinn chuckled as he tossed a short wave to Max and jogged off down the narrow corridor. Max leaned against the wall, slipping his earbuds into his ears and scrolling through his playlists. He tapped on the first song to start it playing. Then he closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank as the music echoed in his ears.

  He startled at the vibration of his phone. Slipping it from his sweats pocket, he glanced at the screen.

  Just sending you love before your fight.

  Max smiled. Thanks, baby.

  Come kiss me?

  I’m trying to get ready.

  Please?

  Max shook his head then typed back.

  Sure. But quick. K?

  He tugged out the earbuds and wandered to the curtain that divided the back area from the arena. A large, muscular guy in a T-shirt with the word “Security” emblazoned on the front stood sentry. On the other side of him, Tori excitedly waited, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders.

  As Max stepped through, Tori sashayed to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him in for a deep kiss, her tongue tangling with his. Normally, she wasn’t this affectionate in public, even now. Max still always had to initiate kisses when they were out.

  When they broke apart, he glanced up to find at least a dozen people watching them. He shrugged. Whatever makes her happy.

  “Knock him out, baby,” Tori cooed over the noise.

  “As you wish, my lady.” Max pressed one last kiss to her lips before again retreating into the catacombs backstage.

  The fights flew by quickly. Max walked with Quinn to the octagon and then stayed with Chuck to corner his best friend. He loved to corner other fighters nearly as much as he loved to fight. Maybe after his fighting career was over, he would have to coach. Quinn’s fight was finished in the second round, when Quinn locked a tight armbar on his opponent. As much as the other guy struggled, he couldn’t break free. Finally, he tapped.

  Max’s fight, the last one of the night, was only two spots away. Chuck ran through final instructions as he taped Max’s hands. Despite the tension he felt, Max had to laugh. Chuck had learned a long time ago that Max never listened at the octagon. It was easier to instruct backstage. Not that Chuck wouldn’t be barking orders at the octagon too. That quirk was one of the many things Max loved about his coach.

  He nodded as Chuck rambled on. “Keep your hands up. Stay focused. Don’t stop moving. Got it?”

  “Yep, Coach,” Max chirped, as usual.

  “Go get ’em.”

  Max stood and stormed to the curtain just in time to see the fighters from the previous fight return to the back. It was show time.

  Max was first to the cage, with the rest of his team on his heels. He stood patiently as the officials checked him one last time. Chuck rubbed his face down with petroleum jelly, barking the same orders as he had minutes before. Max nodded again, even though he wasn’t comprehending a word. Just let me in there. As if Chuck had heard his thoughts, he patted Max on the shoulder and motioned him toward the octagon.

  Max bobbed from one foot to another as he watched his opponent approach the cage. He had heard of the guy before. The fighter was from Albert Lea and was fairly talented. But compared to Max, he was clearly the underdog.

  Once his opponent had performed the same rituals Max had, he slipped into the cage. The ref went through some last minute rules then sent them to their corners. After tapping gloves to show respect, they followed his orders. He glanced at each fighter to make sure they were ready and then shouted, “Fight!”

  Max defended some ill-executed jabs and crosses as he slipped from his opponent’s range. He countered with a cross then a hook, following it with a body kick deep into the man’s ribs. For a moment, Max thought it was over. But the other fighter shuffled away a few steps to recover and was right back at it.

  His opponent threw a few more combos, ending with a solid leg kick just above Max’s kneecap. Seeing the perfect opportunity, Max dropped to his knee, lunging his arms around the other fighter’s waist for a takedown. Max scrambled for mount, but the other guy sat up. Somewhere in the melee, Max found his leg trapped between the other fight
er’s body and his arm.

  The man had Max’s heel firmly in his hand. Max saw the evil glimmer in his eyes right before he took the heel hook across his body. Before Max could tap, searing pain ripped through his leg.

  Max couldn’t even stand to go to the stool in his corner. He fought the tears that burned his eyes. He had never felt so much agony in his life. Chuck appeared at his side, as did the doctor. Together, they helped Max to his feet and supported him to the waiting stool.

  It didn’t take long for the doctor to examine Max’s knee. As he poked around the skin, Max clenched his eyes shut. He fought to hear the crowd to block out the pain. Unfortunately, the exhibition center was unusually quiet as they waited for the doctor’s decision.

  The doctor patted Max on the shoulder as he murmured, “I’m sorry, son.” Backing away, he spun on his toe and strode toward the ref. After a few whispered words, the official nodded.

  The announcer stepped inside and brought the microphone to his lips. “This fight is ended after the first round due to doctor’s decision. The winner…Kyle Smith.”

  Max’s head fell. His first loss. And during a pro fight, no less.

  Chuck nudged him up and hooked an arm around him. “Shake it off, Max. We have far worse things to worry about.” He nodded to the stretcher and paramedics waiting. “Let’s get to the hospital and find out what happened to your leg.”

  Chuck climbed into the ambulance with Max as the medics took his vitals. He hoped someone would tell his parents and Tori where he was going. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the thin pillow for the short ride to the hospital.

  Once they arrived at the emergency room, Max was swept into an examining room. A nurse took another set of vitals and then left. Chuck disappeared down the hall. Max laid on the gurney, alone, as the worst filled his mind. From the location of the pain, he could only think of one thing. His ACL. He prayed he was wrong.

  It wasn’t long before Chuck returned with Tori and Max’s parents in tow. They waited silently in the room for what felt like hours. Finally, the ER doctor stepped in, studying Max’s chart. “So, it says you hurt your knee, Mr. Thomas.”

  Max’s voice was weak. “Yeah. I had a fight, and I was locked in a heel hook—”

  “A fight?” the doctor interrupted.

  “Yeah. At the exhibition center.”

  The doctor rolled his eyes in disgust. Max bit back a growl and then noticed everyone else in the room do the same. The collective tension must have been enough. The doctor rubbed the dots of perspiration from his brow and then set the chart on the counter. “Let’s check out that knee.” He felt around the soft tissue and frowned. “I think we’d better do an MRI. I’m going to see when we can get you in tonight.” He picked the chart up again and slipped from the room.

  Max groaned as he covered his face with his hand. “An MRI. Fantastic.”

  “You can’t think the worst, Max,” his mother urged.

  “Mom, I’m studying to be a fitness trainer. I know human anatomy. Where he’s pressing, where the pain is, there’s only one thing. My ACL. The question isn’t if I screwed it up. It’s how bad I screwed it up.”

  Max punched the gurney beneath him. “I can’t believe that son of a bitch went through with that heel hook. Seriously. How much of a thug can you be?”

  Chuck sighed heavily. “I know, Max. The submission was legal. Ethical, no. But legal yes.”

  Max just shook his head as he struck the gurney again. He had never been so frustrated in his life. The room fell silent again. Twenty minutes passed before the door opened. A tech stepped in, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. He and Chuck helped Max into the chair. Without a word, Max was whisked off for his scan.

  He was glad he wasn’t afraid of closed spaces as he was shoved into the tight tube of the MRI machine. His mind raced. Is my career over? Or am I just overreacting?

  The waiting continued once Max was returned to his room. Tori held his hand. Max smiled at her. At least she was a bright spot in all this uncertainty.

  Finally, the doctor stepped back in. Max watched as the physician took a deep breath. “It’s a full ACL tear. Since you’re an athlete, I’m suggesting surgery. We’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down. I’m referring you to an orthopedic surgeon. Until then, I’ll outfit you with a brace and crutches.”

  Max felt his hand released. He looked up to see Tori’s eyes open wide. “What about his MMA career?”

  “Miss, I think you better worry about his knee first.” The doctor turned and left the room.

  Max looked up at Tori, puzzled. Why’s she so concerned about me getting back into the octagon?

  She met him with a sweet smile. “You’ve worked so hard, baby,” she cooed.

  Max’s voice was doubtful. “Sure thing.”

  It wasn’t long before the doctor returned with the brace, crutches, a prescription for pain medication, and an appointment for the orthopedic surgeon first thing Monday morning.

  Max quickly mastered the crutches and was already an expert by the time they reached the parking lot.

  Chapter Three

  Despite Tori’s pleas that he stay in the dorms so that she could take care of him, Max’s parents packed up a couple days’ worth of clothes and whisked him home to New Ulm. He was ordered to the couch to rest his knee, with an endless supply of ice packs. Tyson kept him busy with stories to read and games to play. His mother and sisters waited on him hand and foot. He spent Sunday afternoon watching football with his dad. Quinn drove to see him once, only staying twenty minutes. He called twice. Other than that and a spattering of texts, he never heard a word from his best friend.

  He did miss Tori and Quinn, but there was nothing better than family.

  First thing Monday morning, Max and his parents were sitting in the office of the orthopedic surgeon. The nurse stepped out with a chart in her hand. “Max Thomas?”

  Max lifted himself from his seat as he grabbed the crutches. “Here.”

  His parents stood to follow. Just as they did, the office door opened. Tori stood, breathless, in the doorway.

  Max sent her a curious look. “What are you doing here? You didn’t call all weekend.”

  Tori sashayed to his side and hugged him. “I just wanted to be here to see what the doctor says.”

  Max kissed her softly. “I would have called you.”

  “I know. But I want to hear it all myself.”

  Max glanced over his shoulder to his parents. The scowls embedded in their features said that neither was pleased at Tori’s presence. Max shrugged. Tori loved him. They were already planning a future. His folks would just have to get used to her.

  The four settled into the room the nurse ushered them to. Max hopped up on the table the best he could so that she could take his vitals. Once she left, the room fell quiet and tense. Tori buried her nose in her phone. Max’s parents sent each other annoyed looks. He sighed. This is going to be a long appointment.

  The doctor, a short, stocky man with salt and pepper hair, shuffled in. “Mr. Thomas?”

  “Yes,” Max acknowledged.

  The doctor shook Max’s hand. “I’m Dr. Penbrook.” He glanced at the three other occupants as he settled onto the stool. “I looked at your chart. You do have a full ACL tear. With your athletic background, I’m recommending surgery. How did you injure this again?”

  “I had a fight,” Max explained.

  “You were in a fight?” Dr. Penbrook demanded, his voice alarmed.

  “No, I had a fight. MMA. At the exhibition center Friday night.”

  The doctor frowned at him. “Why would you do something like that?”

  Max could sense the collective growl about to rip through the room from Tori and his parents. He smiled calmly. “Because I like it. Now, when are you thinking of having surgery?”

  The doctor hurriedly glanced down at the chart. Max bit back a chuckle. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the disgust from the others in the room.
“I think we could get you in Thursday. Will that work?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let me have the nurse schedule that for you. I’ll have her bring in the tests you have to complete by then. If you’ll excuse me.” The doctor scuttled out of the room before any other word was said. It was only a few moments before the nurse returned with his paperwork, and he and his family were dismissed.

  The few days until the surgery flew by for Max. His recovery would be during finals week. He pleaded with his professors to take his tests early. Between exams, he had a physical and countless blood tests. Wednesday night his parents took him back home for a good night’s sleep. Finally, Thursday morning, he arrived at the hospital’s Surgical Unit. After a brief chat with Dr. Penbrook, he was prepped for surgery.

  »»•««

  The room was fuzzy as Max came out of the anesthesia. He could hear the voices around him.

  “The MRI didn’t show that much damage.”

  “He’ll have to have a least one more surgery, maybe two.”

  “That’s what happens when you get involved in that bloody sport.”

  Max’s heart fell. There was no doubt they were talking about him. He was infuriated by the nurse’s comment. But no amount of anger replaced the disappointment he felt. It would be even longer before he would see the inside of an octagon again.

  Dr. Penbrook confirmed his fears when Max was wheeled to his room. There would be two more surgeries to repair the tear. It would be at least a year before he could consider another fight. Max looked beyond the doctor to see Tori slink out the door. She had been by his side this whole time. Where was she going now?

  »»•««

  It was a couple weeks before Max had his second surgery. He missed his team, his coaches, and his friends. He hardly heard from Quinn and Tori. Winter break had arrived, giving Max time to heal at home. He and Tori had planned all year to celebrate Christmas together. However, she hadn’t texted for three days, and her gift, a beautiful diamond heart necklace, was sitting, lonely, on Max’s dresser.