by Amity Cross
“He might…” Ash peered at the magazine.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I added, “Would… Would you give it to him? Please?”
Ash studied me for a long time while I stood there fighting back tears. He didn’t kick me out, but he didn’t offer any advice, either. He just stared like he was sizing up an opponent in the ring. I figured he was attempting to puzzle out my statement to see if I was being honest or not.
“This is it,” I muttered. “I don’t have anything else. Without him, I’m nothing. Ryan…he’s everything.”
“I’m headed over to Rod Laver Arena,” he said. “Do you want a ride? I can get you in the side door.”
“You would do that for me?” A tear escaped my right eye, and I swatted it away.
He grinned and shook his head. “I’ve been through my fair share of shit over the years. I can see why he’s into you, and that’s enough for me to help you out.”
“You’re really intimidating, you know that?”
Ash chuckled and shook his head. “You coming or not?”
27
Ryan
Two weeks of nonstop training and AUFC 54 was finally here.
Sitting in my private change room in the bowels of Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne’s East, I listened to the din outside. People were walking to and fro outside the door, announcements were trumpeting out of the loudspeaker, but there was one thing I couldn’t hear. The crowd amassing inside the arena.
I’d seen it all before. On the television and all the times Cole and I had picked up tickets for the fight nights that had been staged in our hometown. The lights, the music, the scantily clad girls, the television crews, the fans…and the fights. Man, the fights were something else.
To see those men toe the line in one of the elitist championships in the world was mind-blowing. I’d wanted to be up there for so long, and now I was about to become one of them.
Glancing up at Cole, who was pacing back and forth in front of the television mounted on the wall, I scowled.
“Do you have to do that?” I asked. “It’s distracting.” He was more amped up than me, and he was only here to watch.
“You’re going to smash Markov,” Cole said, cracking his fist against his palm.
The door opened, letting in a wall of sound, and closed as Ash appeared.
Glancing at Cole, he said, “Scram.”
“Scram?” he asked, throwing his hands into the air. “Who says scram, old man? No one, that’s who.”
“Cole.”
“Fine, fine.” To me, he said, “Good luck, bro.”
Nodding, I watched as he disappeared out into the hall, likely to find his way into the arena.
“How are you feeling?” Ash asked when we were finally alone.
“Good.” I nodded and stretched my arms. “Ready.”
He pulled out the magazine he had stashed under his arm and slapped it against my chest. “You need to see this.”
Frowning, I opened it to the page that had been marked with a yellow Post-it. When I saw the photograph of Jade, my heart twisted and leapt all at the same time. Fucking Jade…
Scanning the headline, I wasn’t sure what kind of game this was. Fortune, Fame, and Fakery. The Rise and Fall of Jade Forsyth…a Modern Tragedy, by Kevin Merritt.
My blood ran cold, and I shook my head.
“What is this?” I asked, not even sure if I wanted to know the answer.
“Jade came looking for you at Pulse this morning,” Ash explained. “She asked me to give you this.”
Tossing the magazine aside, I shook my head again. “No.”
“Mate, I think you should read it.”
“Why should I?” I said with a snarl. “Why should I give her the time of day when she was so hell-bent on using me to get over her own pity party? If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got a career-making fight in half an hour.” What a fucking time to bring up this shit.
“I know she hurt you,” Ash said. “She’s trying to make it up to you. She said she’s trying to be real.”
“She said?” I asked, the vein in my forehead throbbing. “She spoke to you?”
“Dude, she spoke to the world.” He nodded at the magazine. “Do yourself a favor and read it. Maybe it’ll help you make your decision.”
“What decision?” I murmured, suddenly turning quiet.
“Whether you want to forgive enough to admit you love her.”
“I can’t… I have to stay focused for the fight.” I glanced at the magazine, hating myself for being tempted.
“Do what you like, mate,” Ash said, crossing the room. Opening the door, he said, “I’ll be outside waiting. Either way, I’m here.”
Alone, on the precipice of a life-changing event, another had presented itself. In true Jade fashion, it was dramatic, over the top, and completely in my face.
Picking up the magazine, I started to read. Maybe I was looking for some of my own punishment, or maybe I was searching for a miracle, I didn’t know. All I was certain of was the fact she’d splashed her life over the pages of a national newspaper.
For what end?
* * *
High school was a difficult time for Jade.
“It wasn’t all roses and sunshine,” she says. “A lot of people assumed because I went to a private school, I was just as rich as they were. No one worried about money, but I did.”
A scholarship kid, Jade spent her time studying and working part-time at the local fast-food joint to save money so she could keep up with the friends she’d made among the well-to-do kids. A habit she later admits to carrying over into adulthood.
Money and status, it seems, is the raison d’être of her generation. Work more, be more, have more. It’s a vicious cycle of eat or be eaten while looking runway ready doing it.
One cannot spend their entire high school career without coming across the quintessential mean girl and her crew. Like an episode of the hit teen show Gossip Girl, schemes and manipulation abounded in her life.
* * *
Scanning the rest of the article, I narrowed my eyes as I read the true story of Jade Forsyth. A side of her was appearing that I’d never seen before. Not then and not even now.
The full story of her and Hunter—the beginning, middle, and end—was laid bare. Then how he’d treated her in the wake of their break up. How he’d withheld her money and in turn had sent her out onto the street with nothing.
Then after detailing our bucket list adventures and our night together, the downward spiral she called her karma. She believed she was getting what she deserved. It didn’t matter if she was conscious of her actions or not. This was her retribution, and from the ashes, maybe she could become the person I’d seen below the surface. This was her chance at being real.
I didn’t know what to think.
She’d been fired from her job after scaling back her overtime in an attempt to turn her life around. The career she’d sacrificed everything for had blown up in her face…all because she wanted to have something outside of the grind.
Her best friend, Margaret—who’d never really been her friend in the first place—had betrayed her over and over. The same friend who’d sent a photo of her sleeping in Hunter’s car to every media outlet and publishing house in the country.
Jade truly had no one in her corner fighting for her.
Her life had snowballed from the moment she’d caught Hunter fucking another woman…and she’d lost everything.
And after all that humiliation and heartbreak, she’d owned up to her mistakes, calling it what it was. She’d been shallow, selfish, and manipulative, and she was sorry.
This wasn’t a love story, but what came after the end, maybe it could be.
And there, right at the end, was a note from Jade herself. A postscript, a message, and reading it tore me apart.
* * *
There was one shining light in my journey of self-discovery, a man who put his own life on hold to show me I was worth more than the sum of
all my mistakes. Despite the way I’d treated him all those years ago, he still wanted to help me. There was no agenda, scheme, or manipulation. He was completely and utterly real.
He was the man who showed me I could be more even as I tore his heart out in my own ignorance.
I don’t want my job back. I don’t even want my money or closet full of designer clothes. I definitely don’t want that twenty-thousand-dollar Tiffany engagement ring. I don’t want that life.
All I want is an AUFC fighter named Ryan Harper to know I love him, and that I would do anything to show him I’m worthy of his heart in return.
Ryan, I’m truly sorry. I should’ve been fighting for you from the beginning. For you and no one else.
I will always love you. My first, true love.
* * *
My hands tightened around the magazine, crumpling the pages as my mind flooded with confusion. What the fuck was I supposed to do with this? Right now, minutes before I had to walk out there and fight Markov, what the fuck was I supposed to do?
There was a knock at the door, and a member of the crew poked his head in. “Harper? You’re up.”
Tossing the magazine on the bench, I pushed it all aside—the heartache and the confused longing—and went to face another kind of destiny.
28
Jade
By the time we arrived at Rod Laver Arena, I was a ball of anxiety.
Once we were ushered through the security checkpoint at the competitor’s and staff entrance, Ash gave me a ringside ticket and directed me out into the arena. Overwhelmed by the amount of people filling the space, I found the block of seats right down beside what I now knew was called the octagon. The ring wasn’t a traditional square shape but a mesh cage that had eight sides.
Logos for every company that sponsored the AUFC were plastered everywhere there was space. Ads for sports drinks, active wear, car companies, and fitness brands flashed on the big screen as they prepared the center stage for the next fight of the night.
Edging down the row, I found my seat. As I sat, a woman glanced at me curiously. She was athletic looking, her dark brown almost black hair pulled back into a perky ponytail. She was quite pretty with her long lashes and perfect skin, and I glanced away before she thought I was staring for all the wrong reasons.
“Hi, I’m Ren,” the woman said with a friendly smile. “You must be Jade. Ash said you were coming.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That would be me.”
“I’m Ash’s wife,” she explained. “We co-own Pulse Fitness.”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, sitting up straighter. That explained a lot.
A familiar face leaned around Ren and grimaced at me. Alphonso Cole gave me one hell of a greasy look before raising his eyebrows at Ren, who was blatantly ignoring him.
“Cole,” I said, knowing better than to use his full moniker at a time like this.
“Nice story, Forsyth,” he replied, glancing back.
“Does everyone know?” I muttered, leaning back in my chair.
“You were the one who put it in the newspaper,” Cole retorted before turning serious. “Hey… Ry told me about Hunter, but I didn’t realize…”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t splash my downfall over the headlines for sympathy.”
“It’s one hell of a gesture,” Ren said. “You’ve got big lady balls.”
“Yeah, well, I hope they’re big enough to get Ryan’s attention.”
My head twisted back to the octagon as the next fight was announced, Peter Markov versus Ryan Harper.
This was it. Ryan’s big break. I edged forward in my seat until I was practically on the floor.
When he walked out into the spotlight, wearing nothing but his tight shorts and padded gloves, my breath caught. He was a formidable presence, looking every bit the alpha male I’d fallen in love with. Under that chiseled surface was a heart of gold and a softness I’d been lucky enough to experience firsthand. And after today…I hoped with every fiber of my being he would want to experience a great deal more with me.
“The other guy looks tough,” I said, glancing at Ren. “Is he tough?”
“Ryan’s a great fighter,” she replied reassuringly. “He’ll do good.”
As the fight began, I hoped she was right.
Ryan’s body twisted and turned, his fists landing on his opponent like lighting strikes in a thunderstorm. When they grappled, he twisted his strength and gained the upper hand. When the referee awarded him points, I leapt to my feet and cheered.
Another round began, and the blood started flowing. Ryan was hit in the eye, and his eyebrow looked like it was split. Blood was during down his face, but no one stopped to clean it up. Was that normal? It must be if the referee kept the bout going.
Ryan shook his head and swiped at his eye like the blood was distorting his vision. The other guy attacked, and they crashed into the side of the octagon and grappled. Locked together, they both struggled to free their arms, and then Ryan managed to pull his right away and clipped the other guy in the ear. He slipped, then Ryan took him down, gaining another point.
That was two out of four rounds. He was in the lead, and Ren told me if he won the next, he would take the match.
The third round began without much fanfare, and I squirmed as the two men faced off. The other guy—I’d forgotten his name ages ago—had amped up his game knowing this was make or break.
Before I knew what was happening, Ryan made a bid to end the round and claim victory seconds into the set. He launched his fist in a wide arc, and it was too fast for his opponent. Ryan’s knuckles slammed into his head, dropping the guy like a sack of potatoes.
The crowd went wild, and Ren grabbed my arm and shook me.
“What just happened?” I asked, my eyes wide as sound assaulted me from every direction. Everyone was losing their shit.
“Knockout!” she yelled. “He dropped that guy like he was nothing! Three seconds into the round! Did you see that? Talk about a fucking debut!” She howled into the air like a wolf, and I stood there shell-shocked.
Then out of the chaos, Ash appeared, slinking down the row until he found us. “C’mon.” He grabbed my hand and practically catapulted me out of my seat.
“Don’t dislocate her shoulder, sweetness!” Ren called out after us, obviously having a great time taking the piss out of her husband.
“Is she always like that?” I asked, trying to distract myself from what I supposed was my imminent face-off with Ryan.
“Every day the same thing. A big pain in my ass. It’s why I love her.”
He led me out into the competitor only area, flashing his pass to get us past security, then he wove through the halls. I had no idea where we were, and all the twists and turns revealed yet another passage that looked exactly like the passage we’d been down right before.
Finally, he opened a door and poked his head into the room beyond. Seeming satisfied, he yanked me inside. There was a locker, a bench, a television on one wall playing a stream of what was happening outside in the arena, and another room, which housed a shower and toilet. It was Ryan’s change room, but he wasn’t in it. Not yet.
“Where…” I began.
“Doing post-fight interviews,” Ash explained. “He’s the toast of the AUFC right now. That KO was phenomenal! I should get out there and muscle in on the action. Will you be okay?”
“I’m shitting bricks.” I squirmed to prove my point.
“Wait for him here,” Ash said with a grin. “Everything will be okay. Just say what you said to me, okay?”
I nodded, and before I could change my mind, he was gone.
Glancing around the change room, I spied the copy of the Lifestyle magazine I’d given Ash. He’d obviously kept his word about giving it to Ryan, but had the fighter read it? It was crumpled and tossed aside, which didn’t bode well. My stomach gurgled, and the toilet was quickly turning into an option.
He would be here soon, and I would have to give him a speech.
What could I say that I hadn’t already put into the article? I’d poured everything I had into it. My words were gone. I couldn’t just stand here and say, How’s about that crazy article, yo?
The door opened abruptly, and I turned, my heart jackhammering. Ryan powered into the room, grinning from ear to ear, still buzzing from his win. A towel was flung over his shoulder, and sometime between the octagon and now, he’d pulled on a T-shirt, covered in what I gathered were his sponsor’s logos.
His gaze collided with mine, and his smile faded. Behind him, Ash closed the door, shutting out the chaos beyond.
“Hey,” I said, shrugging, all my carefully thought-out speeches about a girl loving a boy dissolving.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and didn’t say anything.
“I thought about what I was going to say to you because I knew I would get to this moment and crash and burn,” I blurted. “But I can’t remember a damn thing.”
He blinked, his shoulders tensing.
“You taught me that life was for living, not for working,” I said. “That cutting down everything and everyone to get at the prize wasn’t worth it. But sometimes you have to cut…through all the fake bullshit… You have to cut away everything to get to the real.”
He was stone. An impenetrable wall of nothing. His eyes were blank, his face frozen in time. The Ryan I knew wasn’t there…but he had to be. I wasn’t saying the right words.
“I fought for the wrong things, Ryan,” I went on. “I thought it was all about status and praise and money and all those fucking shallow things. You showed me I could be more, that I was more. You showed me a different life, and after I…” I sighed, my hands shaking. “All this time, I should’ve been fighting for you, and it shouldn’t have taken losing everything to realize it. I’m trying to make amends, I’m trying to be a better person, but I would like to do it with your forgiveness. Everything has been cut away, and this is real. What I feel is real. I love you, Ryan. I always have. I was just too stupid to see it.”