by Shey Stahl
“I’m not sure why I didn’t.” Her answer was soft, as if she didn’t want me to judge her for keeping something like that. “I try not to think about it.”
I wasn’t upset by it. Shocked in some ways. Before me was an amazing woman, who was more than likely sitting on millions, yet she acted as though she had to work every single day of her life to be able to live. “Why haven’t you used any of it? Like buy a house or something?”
Tallan thought for a moment, chewing on her lip and twisting a strand of hair around her finger. Was she nervous? I kept my eyes on the road but I couldn’t help but glance over at her.
“I don’t know.” She dropped her hand in her lap. “I don’t feel like it’s mine. I paid for college with some of it.”
“If you don’t feel like it’s yours, why were you willing to give some to Danny?”
My question caught her off guard. I wasn’t mad any longer. I understood she was trying to help but it made me curious. Tallan sighed and twisted to face me in the truck. “I know you’re tired of helping him but I knew you’d torture yourself if something happened and you could have helped. I didn’t want you to lose focus of what you were working for so I wanted to help.”
She was right. I would have felt guilty, but it didn’t stop my train of thought from being, when is enough, really enough? Eventually, something had to give, right?
“Don’t you see,”—I reached over to place my hand on her knee—“I’ve been trying to help him for years. At what point do I stop?”
Tallan didn’t have an answer for me.
WE WERE AT Chateau by eleven and parked in their gravel parking lot. Tallan jumped down out of my truck with no help, smoothing out her light summer dress and sliding her bag on her shoulder.
“Have you been here before?” Squinting into the sun, I moved my sunglasses from my head to my eyes.
Tallan reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers together. “No, haven’t been to this one before.”
We walked in silence, hand in hand, when Tallan squeezed mine as we approached the door. “I know I broke your trust, again, by trying to help Danny. I was only trying to help and I went about it the wrong way.”
I nodded tightly. She did but I knew why. “I know what you were trying to do and I understand.”
Opening the door, I removed my sunglasses and hooked them on my shirt. I gave her a nod to walk inside as I held open the large wooden door. Tallan’s hand rose to my chest as she passed by me, lingering over muscles, fingers slowly catching on the fabric of my cotton shirt.
Her touch, as always, went straight to the one place I didn’t want it to.
Growling in her ear, I wrapped my arms around her chest from behind drawing our bodies together. “I can’t get enough of you,” I whispered, knowing she understood.
In some ways, this training for a fight when our relationship was so new was the ultimate test of its strength. If we could make it through all this, we could make it through anything.
As they started the tour of the winery, my mind was elsewhere. On Danny and what Tallan had said, and the fight. The tour guide led us to the tasting room and my thoughts drifted to Tallan, who was intently listening to the man talk about aerating your wine and tasting the true flavor of the wine.
When the tour was over, watching Tallan pick through bottles of wine she wanted, I was caught in place by the beauty of her soul. She was trying to help, attempting to do right by me and my family.
How could I possibly make her see that was appreciated?
When the room was empty, I waited until she stopped and looked back at me. “Destry, are you coming?” She gave a nod to the exit, her dark brown hair falling in her face.
Motioning her forward, she sighed, smiled, and then came back over to me where I stood waiting inside the tasting room. My hands framed her face, her back against the wine barrels as I trapped her against my chest. Gazing down at her for several moments, all we did was stare. Drawing in a heavy breath, I lifted my hand to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. “Some say the first taste of wine cleanses your palate. And that only after that first sip, can you really appreciate the second taste and all the flavors the wine has to offer.”
I wondered if she understood the meaning behind my words.
Her eyes cast downward as if she were shy, but I knew that wasn’t it. When they lifted, I noticed the tears. “It’s an interesting theory.”
I made eye contact with her, wanting her to hear every single word I said, and the meaning behind it. “I know I’m not the easiest person to love. I can’t say it will ever get easier.”
Her lips touched mine. “I don’t care. You’re worth the fight.”
A series of flashy punches in quick succession that look impressive but do little damage.
To my surprise, Tallan set up a meeting with her parents rather quickly. Next thing I knew, we were on our way to meet them. The drive to her parents’ house in West Seattle was a nerve wracking one. I felt like some kind of teenage dirt bag trying to impress my girl’s dad so I could get in her pants later.
It didn’t help that one, I couldn’t have sex with Tallan and, two, she was wearing a dark blue dress, high heels and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “I can’t believe you wore that,” I whispered into the night, pulling at my tie. It’d been a while since I wore a tie and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. I hated anything around my neck.
Tallan turned to look at me, her eyes widening. “What? Why? Does it look bad?” Her hands smoothed down her sides and over her hips.
Fuck, what I would give to be her hands. Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I drew her into my side. “You look hot. And that’s a problem.”
She put her palm on my face to create some distance only to fidget again. “Oh, stop.”
“You stop.” I swatted her hand away from the dress. “You look great.”
“So you say.” And then her tone turned from playfully annoyed to serious and contemplating. “Listen, my dad can be a bit much. He’s old school, hates that I live with Jared and well, he has some opinions about you already.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Great.”
“Hang in there.” She patted my back. “He’s harmless.”
Tallan’s mother answered the door and I knew where she’d gotten her looks. Her mother was beautiful, like Tallan. Long flowing dark hair that curled at the ends and golden brown eyes that matched Tallan’s. She wore a lilac-colored blouse that made her hair stand out, grabbing my attention. It was clear she took care of herself. “You must be Destry,” she said, extending her hand to mine.
I took it gently, shaking it. “I am, and you must be Mrs. Spencer?”
“Oh, dear.” She smiled, her bright white smile relaxing in a sense. “Call me Becky.”
Tallan drew her mom into a hug when we were inside their home, which wasn’t extravagant, but you knew they had money and a taste for the finer things in life.
“So, Destry,”—Becky looped her arm with mine as we walked—“how’d you land my girl? I thought for sure she was dating Jared and wasn’t telling us.”
So that’s why they didn’t want her living with him.
They thought they were secretly a couple. I’ll admit, when I first learned of Tallan living with a man, I thought the same thing. Only spend a few minutes around them and you realized they were just friends. More like brother and sister.
“I met her at the gym.” I gave Becky a gentle smile and then regarded Tallan. “I was her personal trainer for a while.”
We were led into the dining room with dark floors spread throughout the house. In the center of the room was a large table big enough for fifteen people, but set with four place settings. Given her mother was a caterer, I knew she’d probably go all out having Tallan and me over for dinner.
On the table was what looked to be a pork loin roast with a sauce drizzled over the top, asparagus and red skinned potatoes. To the side of the roast was a bowl of bread I only wished I could eat. I was stayi
ng away from carbohydrates for the most part until after the fight.
Tallan’s father, or I assumed it was him, entered through the kitchen to my left. When I heard the footsteps, I turned, my hand still joined with Tallan’s. He was a taller man, beardless and calm-looking, but his eyes told another story. You could tell almost everything you need to know about a man by his eyes. He had dark brown eyes, firm and confident.
Tallan let go when she saw her dad, reaching for him when he hugged her. “It’s been a while, T.”
Tallan blew off the remark. “Nice to see you, Dad.”
He then took in her dress, you know, the one I couldn’t keep my eyes off. “You look nice. A little revealing, don’t you think?”
“Shush, Dad.” She reached for my hand again, yanking me toward her. “This is Destry, my boyfriend. Destry, this is my dad, Kevin.”
I straightened my posture and reached for his hand. “Nice to me you, sir.”
He shook my hand, firmly, before letting go. “Would you like a drink?” He gestured with a nod to their liquor cabinet. “Some wine or beer?”
“No, thank you,” I said politely. “I’m in training.”
Kevin laughed sarcastically as we sat down at the table. “Fighting Ray Lucas again, right?” I nodded, swallowing over the idea that I wanted to take a swing at my girlfriend’s father. “Are you actually going to stand up and fight this time?”
I deserved that, as much as I didn’t want to hear it. Like it or not, I wasn’t at my best at the Garden and I had no one to blame but myself. Still wasn’t easy to hear it.
Tallan’s grip around my elbow tightened as if she knew.
Don’t hit her dad.
I cleared my throat, my shoulders straightening. “I plan to.”
It was evident her father didn’t like me one bit. Or at least he wasn’t impressed by me.
I’d never been one to want to impress anyone for that matter.
The last thing I wanted though was for Mr. Spencer to think his only daughter was dating a piece of shit who went around throwing fights for the sake of his ego. It wasn’t like that at all.
The conversation never did get any easier when he asked, in the middle of dinner, “So I heard you were arrested for the murder of Silas. You know those two dated all through high school, right?”
Tallan eyed her dad, a set scowl on her face. “Dad, I told you, that was a misunderstanding.”
“Was it?” Kevin looked to me, his words loaded with ridicule.
“Are you asking me if I killed him?” My voice grated harshly.
“Knock it off, Kevin.” Becky glared at her husband. “He’s a nice boy. Leave him be.” And then Becky regarded me again at she dished her plate with salad. “Destry, hon, tell me about your father. How’s he doing these days?”
It wasn’t exactly a mystery to know anything about me. My family and my life was in the public eye no matter how hard I tried to avoid it. For that reason, her family knew all about me before I even came to dinner.
Tallan gave me an apologetic glance, pushing her potatoes around her plate. Reaching beside me, I placed my hand on her knee trying to give her a little reassurance this didn’t bother me, though deep down it did. “He’s doing better. I can’t say his memory has improved, but he’s healthy, for now.”
Thankfully, the conversation changed to a lighter note as Tallan talked about Jared, who her mom adored. I didn’t mind one bit because frankly, I wanted the conversation away from me.
I never met Stella’s parents. She was brought up through foster homes and on the streets when I met her. I went into meeting the parents’ scene blindly and I wasn’t impressed so far.
Kevin’s true feelings for me were revealed when we were getting ready to leave and he leaned in to whisper, “I don’t like you.”
He’s honest, isn’t he? “Okay.” I chuckled, blowing off his remark. What was I going to say to that anyhow? Thank you? “I’m sorry that you don’t, but I’m in love with your daughter. As long as she feels the same way about me, I’m not going anywhere.”
Kevin shook his head with a sense of disapproval. “I know how guys like you are… and if you ever lay a hand on my daughter, I will make you pay.”
That’s what he thinks of me? He thought I’d physically harm Tallan? I almost laughed. Almost. Everyone had this assumption a fighter couldn’t control his temper and let his ability to do harm with his hands to his advantage in any situation.
I leaned in so he felt the heat of my rigid stare. “I would never harm her in any way. I’d rather die than lay a hand on her in anger.” I didn’t care if he didn’t fuckin’ believe me. The only one who mattered was Tallan. He knew by the curve of my brow and the set of my stance he’d said the wrong thing to me. Instinctively, he backed up a foot. “And the fact that you would question it without even knowing a goddamn thing about me, is evidence enough for me why Tallan had never spoken of you until two days ago.” I turned away without waiting for a reply. I didn’t want a reply from him, nor would I let him. Fuck him.
We left in a hurry and I knew Tallan sensed the change in my demeanor from dinner. “What’s wrong?” she asked when I was backing out of their driveway, leaning forward in an attempt to see past the row of parked cars on the street. “Your dad thinks I’m a piece of shit.” My voice was hoarse with frustration, my jaw tight, hands flexing on the wheel.
Tallan snorted. “Well, he was nicer to you than he was to Jared, so you’re doing good.”
That was hard to believe. “He thinks I’m going to hit you.”
That made her laugh. “Oh, please, you would never hurt me.”
I was relieved she blew it off so easily, but it didn’t stop the feeling inside of me that someone would think so little of me that I would harm a woman. Even back when I dated Stella, when she left me, the first thing the media spun was that I was abusive.
Never once had I even thought of hitting or doing harm physically to a woman. The fact that the media sought to paint that picture of me was sickening. Yet my girl’s dad was doing the same.
Tallan was once again my voice of reason. Her hand draped over the back of the seat and to the nape of my neck. “All that matters is that I know how you feel. That I know you would never harm me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, and certainly not my father.”
I smiled weakly and gave her a wink. “Something tells me you were a bit of a handful as a teenager.”
Tallan grinned and then bit down on her lower lip. “A little bit.”
Body punches, particularly a left hook delivered to the floating rib area where the liver is, can stop a fighter if landed perfectly. Body punches delivered not quite so precisely but repeatedly round after round wears a boxer down. A sore gut and bruised ribs makes it hard to breath.
2 WEEKS BEFORE FIGHT
Muhammad Ali once said, “I hated every minute of training, but I said, don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.”
Did I believe that? I did. It was what I was working toward. I was at the point I was sick of it all and wanted the fight over. I was tired of the noise in my head. Still, I understood why I was doing it.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Danny since that night I warned him if he fucked up, and used Tallan, I would kill him. Surely he knew I wouldn’t actually kill him, but I still hadn’t heard from him.
All that, between Danny and Tallan was weighing on me. My mind seemed to be a scrambled mess of thoughts I didn’t need. For my sake, when I was in the gym, I was focused.
“Where are you?” Adam asked, shaking out my arms as I stared at Henley, my sparring partner for the day.
I felt bad for Henley today because he was about ready to take a fucking beating from me based on my mood. “A place you’ll never understand,” I finally told him, barely moving my eyes from the canvas. “A place you don’t want to be.”
If only he knew the thoughts I couldn’t rid myself of. No one wanted to be in this mindset.
A train
ing camp, and the boys I surrounded myself with were there for one reason. Me. Their sole purpose was me, the fighter, the guy that should I win, would keep them employed. We had to work as one and that meant willing to sacrifice individual goals for one person.
Again, me.
This was undoubtedly the biggest fight of my career. I couldn’t have any distractions. We all knew that but Adam wanted to know his fighter was ready for the fight and the press today.
Press. My fucking downfall. No matter what I said to them, it ended badly.
Around eleven that morning, the press and about a hundred spectators showed up at a gym not far from the bar to watch my workout. It was all for show and part of their press tour that always occupied a title fight.
As Bush’s “Comedown” blared through the basement, I did some sparring with Henley, jump roping and speed bag work. I kept my head down and focused on the training, using it as another opportunity to prepare, rather than the nuisance it felt like having them invade my privacy here.
After that, I signed autographs and spoke to the press about the fight. I was vague, avoiding their direct questions on how I would fight Lucas.
Tallan was there, tucked away in the corner, and I think it was her first time seeing the media to this magnitude and having them focused on my every move. When I was in between interviews, I made my way over to her, my shoulder bumping hers. I wanted, no, I needed to know she was okay with this.
“Wow, this is intense.” With a nervous set to her eyes, she scanned the basement and the flashes as they photographed me, and her now. I wondered if she realized this was the first time we had been photographed together.
Part of me wanted them to know this girl was mine, so I put my arm around her, casually so, but still it was an indication we were together.
“Is it always like this?”
I followed her stare and what this must have felt like to her. When I looked back at her, my brow drew together before I swiped my forearm over my face wiping away sweat. “Yeah, a title bout is always like this.”