by Amity Cross
Time to go punch my way through a wall of shit.
29
Josie
All this time, I’d thought Dean was the stupid one, but there was only one common denominator in all my failed relationships. Me.
I thought he’d harbored secret feelings for another woman and acted on them behind my back. I thought he’d been using me for convenience. I thought I was just another disposable fuck to him. My thoughts were nothing but farfetched conclusions I’d jumped to without any provocation. My own insecurities had blindsided me.
It turned out I was the stupid one all along.
Dean had been straight up with me from day one. He’d told the truth, voiced his feelings, and made no apologies for his shortcomings. He just acknowledged them and asked for my help. He was motherfucking Einstein compared to me.
Gabe would be pissed, but I didn’t care. Dean forgave me. Dean believed in me. Dean loved me.
Wandering out into the arena, I found the VIP section. There were two empty seats in the front that I supposed were for Lincoln and Violet. I hoped she wasn’t too mad with me. The last time I spoke to Vee was at the cafe a few weeks ago.
“Josie fucking Cunningham.”
What in the world? My gaze raked the crowd, and when I saw the owner of the voice, my mouth dropped open. “Ren?”
She rose to her feet, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Did you think I was going to miss this? The fight of the century?”
Ash raised his hand and waved. “Hey. I’m here, too.”
“Please tell me things are better,” she declared, ignoring her husband. “You look…rumpled.”
“We hashed it out,” I told her as she gestured to the empty spot beside her. “I was so stupid, Ren.”
“I know,” she said with a laugh. “But things are good?”
“They are, but there’s still Gabe to deal with.” Sitting beside her, I leaned close and whispered in her ear, filling her in on what had transpired since we’d talked on the phone. Then I told her about what Gabe had planned for the fight.
“But we have to tell the officials,” she argued, looking aghast.
“No, that’s the last thing Dean wants,” I replied. “This fight has to happen.”
“I hope that imbecile knows what he’s doing.”
“So do I,” I murmured as the lights went down and the octagon was lit up. “So do I.”
“This is the main event of the evening!” the announcer declared to the crowd. “And now… Welcome to AUFC 41! This fight is three rounds deciding the middleweight title. Introducing… Fighting out of the blue corner with nine wins, zero losses, standing six foot, weighing in at eighty point nine kilograms, and fighting out of Melbourne, Australia, please welcome Gabe O’Connell!”
My gut twisted as I caught sight of Gabe as he paced in his corner, sliding in his mouth guard. Usually, he was hamming it up for the cameras, but not tonight. He looked mean, like he was all shaken up about something and more than ready to get the fight under way.
When Dean came into view, my heart leapt, anticipation crawling over my skin. He tossed his robe to the ground as he climbed into the octagon. Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and padded gloves, he looked handsome and ripped, every bit the man I was in love with. My head spun as I reminded myself of the words I’d told him moments before. I love you.
Dean stepped into his corner and shoved his mouth guard in as the announcer turned in his direction.
“And fighting out of the red corner with eleven wins, two losses, standing at six foot two inches, weighing in at eighty point two kilograms, and fighting out of Sydney, Australia, please welcome Dean Hayes!”
The crowd cheered and whistled as he raised a hand to wave. All class. Typical Hayes trait.
“Now to introduce our referee for the evening, Freddy Burns.” The ref stepped forward to the center as the two fighters approached their marks.
“Gentlemen, you know the rules,” Burns said, his voice amplified through the arena by the microphone pinned to his shirt. He placed his hands on their chests, making a show of keeping them apart for the cameras, which were feeding the images to the screens around the venue and to the world via pay-per-view TV. “Protect yourselves at all times. Follow my instructions. Let’s have a clean fight, no funny business. Let’s touch gloves.”
Dean raised his fists, and for a split second, Gabe didn’t move. Then to the displeasure of the crowd, O’Connell turned his back on the twin and strode back to his corner without touching gloves. Boos echoed through the arena, and I glanced at Ren, not liking the omen one bit.
Not touching gloves with your opponent was the ultimate in disrespect. It was frowned upon for so many reasons, but most of all it was bad sportsmanship, and in this case, he didn’t touch because of a personal vendetta. If it was any consolation for what Dean and I had been though, Gabe would be crucified by the fans. It was a poor substitute for justice, but it was what it was.
The fighters toed their marks, and just as the referee was about to call it, Dean muttered something to Gabe.
As the fight began and the two men clashed, I edged forward in my seat. Gabe went in full force, attacking and putting Dean straight onto the offence. Whatever he’d said had driven O’Connell into a rage.
A fist clipped the twin’s eye, and as he came around, I could clearly see the red mark. Gabe attacked again, delivering a set of punches that opened up Dean’s skin over his eyebrow.
They broke apart and circled one another, Dean wiping the back of his arm across the blood, which had dripped into his left eye. Gabe was looking pleased with himself as he jabbed, testing his opponent’s defenses.
Ren bumped my shoulder with hers, and I glanced at her. She smiled reassuringly, but I was on edge, having unconsciously moved forward in my seat as the fight progressed.
The men grappled, both attempting a takedown, and Dean’s footing slipped under Gabe’s strength. They landed hard, O’Connell going for the hold. Glancing up at the clock, the round had one minute to go, and I worried the hem of my blouse as they fought for dominance.
For a tense moment, it looked like Gabe would have the upper hand when the buzzer sounded, but Dean slipped an arm through and managed to turn the tables. O’Connell landed on his back, and the twin held him down, restraining his arms as the round ended.
Round one went to Dean. Yes!
The fighters were split apart, and Dean strode back to his corner. He lingered, shaking out his arms and legs while Coach dabbed a towel against the cut on his eyebrow.
Like there was some kind of unexplainable tether between us, the twin’s gaze found mine in the sea of people. There was only a one-minute break between rounds, and before I could blink, he’d turned and was walking back into the center of the octagon.
It was too quick to say for sure, but I was positive I could see the worry in his eyes. He was fighting the toughest bout of his career, that much was clear, and Gabe wasn’t making it easy. So far, it’d been more aggressive than most AUFC fights, and that kind of technique took its toll. Dean was fading fast under Gabe’s onslaught.
Hold on, I willed silently. I believe in you.
The second round was under way in a matter of seconds, and the two fighters began circling once more. If Dean could maintain his foothold over Gabe and take the second, then the title would be his. He had to hold the upper hand at the five minute mark…or end the fight early by KO.
Didn’t sound too hard, but when we were waiting for O’Connell to pull his stunt, it was a long time in hell.
It went much the same way as the first with the two men launching aggressive attacks on one another, desperate to gain the upper hand.
Suddenly, Gabe seemed to have had enough, and he made his play. His shoulder smashed into Dean’s gut and he heaved, lifting the twin clear off the ground. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as everyone realized what was about to happen.
Gabe was going to piledrive him! Flip him over and spike Dean on his head!
It was the lowest move anyone could pull on another fighter and Dean… Dean might not be able to walk away from this. He could suffer brain damage or a broken neck. He could be paralyzed for life! And to make matters worse, he only had a millionth of a second to do something about it.
Dean, please! I hoped my warning had been enough.
At the last second, Dean threw his weight to the right and landed awkwardly on the side of his neck and shoulder.
The referee waved them on, not stopping the fight, and the crowd booed the decision. They should’ve stopped it then and there! It was clearly an illegal move!
I grasped Ren’s hand tightly as Dean recovered quickly and kicked out, sweeping Gabe’s feet from underneath him. He fell heavily, landing on the flat of his back as the twin pushed onto his knees. Using the momentum, he brought his fist down onto Gabe’s temple, and I swore I heard the sound of the leather glove hitting O’Connell’s skull.
The referee slid onto his knees beside the pair, and I held my breath as Gabe’s arms seemed to go limp.
Please be a KO. Please, please, please…
Burns held up his hand and called out, “Knock out!”
I grabbed Ren and shook her. “It’s over! It’s over!”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer declared, entering the octagon. “The winner of the AUFC middleweight title is…Dean Hayes!”
As the referee held up Dean’s arm and someone else wrapped the belt over his other shoulder, I jumped up and down, throwing my arms around Ren’s neck.
“Holy fuck!” I exclaimed, tears streaming down my face. “Holy fuck!”
Dean had climbed out of the octagon by the time I bounded out of the stands.
A mountain of well-wishers had swarmed him the moment he’d emerged, making it almost impossible to get to him, but I pushed and shoved, trying to forge a path to my man.
“Where’s Josie?” he was saying to Coach. “Where is she?”
“I’m here,” I cried, sliding through the wall of people to get to him.
His gaze met mine. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around mine, pulling me the last meter until I smacked into his chest.
“Ew, you’re all sweaty,” I complained.
“You love my natural musk,” he retorted with a relieved laugh.
“You did it,” I murmured, the entire world dropping away until all I could see was him. “You did it.”
He puffed out his chest. “Of course, I fucking did it.”
Before I could chastise him, his mouth covered mine and he kissed me hard, his tongue claiming mine in one fell swoop. He did more than just take my breath away. He stole my heart and soul…in front of the entire world.
When he finally tore himself away, he held onto me, his face split wide with a grin to end all grins. The silver plate on the front of the belt was cold against my skin as I pressed my cheek against it, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the cameras, the crowd, or Gabe fucking O’Connell. All I cared about was Dean Hayes, AUFC Middleweight Champion.
We were hardly aware of the mass of reporters and officials smiling around us, throwing questions at the new middleweight champ.
“Do you think O’Connell tried to intentionally piledrive you?”
“Do you think he should be disqualified?”
“Are you okay?”
“How does it feel to hold the AUFC middleweight title?”
“Josie, are you and Dean an item? What happened with O’Connell? Did he fire you?”
I don’t know if Dean heard any of the million and one questions that were being fired at him, but it didn’t matter. The committee would be reviewing the footage of the illegal move and would hand down their judgment before the chaos had a chance to subside. And I reckon it was pretty clear what Dean and my relationship status was without opening our mouths.
“It doesn’t matter what they say,” he whispered in my ear. “If this is the end, then it doesn’t matter.”
“How could you say that?” I asked, my brow furrowing with confusion.
“I don’t give a fuck if I can’t fight pro again. I have you. That’s enough.”
“Coach was right about you,” I said with a laugh. “The boy has become a man.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “He said that?”
“Yep.”
The noise from the crowd lulled as the screens came alive with the announcement from the AUFC committee. We stared up at the screen as the camera was shoved into Gabe’s now conscious and furious face while the referee handed down the decision of the AUFC judging committee.
“The committee has voted and judged your attempted spiking of Dean Hayes as intentional,” Burns said, leaning over Gabe, and the fighter’s expression turned to rage. “You are disqualified.”
Dean began to laugh, then picked me up and spun me around and around, much to the delight of the crowd. We must be up on the screens, and I could already see tomorrow’s headlines, ‘Hayes gets the middleweight title and the girl,’ with the subheading ‘O’Connell bites the dust’.
“Always and forever, Josie Cunningham,” he said as he brought me back down to earth.
“Through a wall of shit and back,” I said, echoing his words from earlier. “A fighter forever.”
30
Josie
Three months later…
* * *
We’d left the blinds open last night.
My eyes cracked open as the sunrise crept across the bedroom, waking me from the best sleep I’d ever had. Wiggling against the warm body asleep next to me, I breathed in the distinctive male scent I’d come to love.
Three months of uncomplicated bliss had passed since that night at the arena. That meant it was three months to the day I’d been with Dean Hayes. Happily and completely. Two halves of a whole.
From the day he’d taken the middleweight title from Gabe O’Connell, we’d just fallen into each other’s lives like we’d never left one another. Things just…clicked.
I was beginning to understand all the things Violet had told me that day at lunch when she’d finally managed to get me to spill that Dean and I were a thing. I was also beginning to understand Ash and Ren and who they were together. It was all a little bit too introspective for first thing in the morning, so I allowed my eyes to droop, and I dozed next to the lump of muscle that was my man.
My phone dinged, sounding the arrival of a text message, and I fumbled for it, sleep still clinging to my body. Picking it up, I saw it was a text from Hamish, and my gaze raked over the words he’d sent.
Thanks for your advice the other week, it read. Happy endings all round.
Biting on my bottom lip, I thought over the events of the past few months since the title fight. So much had happened, not just with Dean and me but in all our friends’ lives, too. It was easy to become caught up in our own drama since we had so bloody much of it, but the world still rotated.
I was devastated to hear about Hamish’s mother passing, and Dean and I had dropped everything to be there for the funeral. I hadn’t known anything about what he was going through while we were together, and maybe I should’ve been angry, but I couldn’t find it in my heart. Not after the roller coaster that was Dean’s and my ride to happy ending-ville.
Hamish had filled me in on the story about him and Lori after the funeral but not without some prodding. Once upon a time, he’d imparted some wisdom on me that was hard to hear but desperately needed, so I returned the favor. My story allowed him to find peace of his own it seemed.
Smiling like a fool, I opened the message and began to type in a reply.
The mound of muscle that was Dean Hayes began to move beside me, and his big paw of a hand found its way between my legs. Squirming, I laughed and attempted to kick him away without much luck.
“What are you smiling at?” Dean asked, his voice husky from the lack of sleep we’d had the night before.
I glanced at him, still grinning like an idiot, and turned my phone around so he co
uld read the message from my ex.
“Good for them,” he said, plucking it from my hand and tossing it onto the bedside table.
“Hey, I was replying to that,” I complained, attempting to reach over him.
“Reply later,” he said, rolling on top of me. “If he’s anything like us right now, he won’t have time to read it.”
I ran my palms over his back, feeling the ripple of muscle as he moved. “You know, I love that you don’t feel threatened by Hamish and I being friends.”
“After the fucking shit we went through to get here?” he asked, his eyebrow rising.
Yeah, the wall of shit. Who could forget? Monica Miller, Gabe O’Connell… Those names were like an afterthought, a footnote on a story that was much bigger than all of their meddling combined.
Letting my gaze wander over Dean’s face, I studied the tiny scar that split his eyebrow. It was the mark he’d gotten fighting for the middleweight title against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named—who was disgraced, banned, and never coming back. It was a battle scar.
Talk about a totally watertight happy ending.
“How’s Lincoln going with the rise to heavyweight?” I asked, totally trying to delay gratification. “How’s he handling the training?”
“Ask him yourself,” Dean grumbled. “You are his PR manager.”
“Oh yeah,” I murmured. “Two hundred and fifty thousand a year, all the sex I want with my hot boyfriend…and half his apartment.”
“Plus bonuses,” he said with a growl, grinding his erection between my legs.
“I thought three quarters of the bathroom space was the bonus?” I asked, walking a fine line between having all the power and giving him everything he wanted…which was in.
“Jo,” he complained. “We have to be at the gym in half an hour.”
“Then I better let you in,” I murmured, acquiescing to his desires. “All the way.”
As he took me, I knew I would never be anywhere else but right here with him. Living together, working together, and in complete and total love.