“But mentally—” Butch shook his head and tsked a few times. “Mentally you came back with a few screws loose, and I have a strong suspicion it has to do with that lady PT you were with. Am I right?”
Reid didn’t know how to respond or where to start. So he didn’t.
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you what I think,” Butch said, leaning back with arms folded over his chest. “You fell in love with the Miller girl, but decided you weren’t good enough for her, so instead of telling her how you felt you probably said or did something to screw it up just before coming back here. How close am I?”
Pushing to his feet, Reid dragged his still-taped hands over his face then hooked them behind his neck. “Dead on.”
“I thought as much,” Butch said, rising from his chair. “So what’s your plan?”
Reid dropped his arms and narrowed an eye at his coach. “What makes you think I have a plan?”
“You never go up against a fight or a problem without a plan.” Butch eased a hip onto his desk and popped one of the peppermint candies he’d replaced cigarettes with into his mouth. “But if the way you’ve been acting is any indication, your plan sucks.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. When you have faith in your plans you’re no different than you are any other day. Our plan for the fight is solid. But you’re still messed up. Ergo—”
Reid lifted an eyebrow. “Did you really just say ‘ergo’?”
“Yeah, I did, smartass—ergo, your plan sucks.”
Reid couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. He was right. When Reid had a good plan, nothing fazed him. Not the head games his opponent flung at him through the media, not an injury he knew could be dealt with after the fight, nothing.
“My plan sucks because I don’t have one. No matter how I try I can’t find a solution that makes us happy together.”
Butch rubbed his jaw as he thought about…well, whatever it was he was thinking about. “Hmm. Yeah, I can see how that would trouble you.”
Reid stepped to the interior office window and looked out at all the things that had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. A ring for sparring, mats for grappling, padded dummies, punching bags, weights, and cardio machines. A feeling of indifference settled in the center of his chest like a crushing weight. He’d noticed that a lot lately upon entering the gym. Not even the familiar smells and sounds brought on the usual excitement.
He shrugged, feeling the tension knots in his shoulders. “It is what it is, Butch. Lucie isn’t cut out for this life. If I bring her into it, she’ll only end up leaving. She deserves someone better than me. Better than a fighter.”
“Ah, Christ.” Butch returned to his chair from earlier and gestured to the one Reid had first occupied. “Have a seat.” Too tired to argue, Reid did as he was told. “Now I want you to listen and listen good. I’m sure you know this already, but I’ve never said it outright, so here it is: You know me and Martha couldn’t have any kids of our own. Hell, it’s why she’s a schoolteacher and I decided to take on young men like yourself.
“Now I care for all my fighters—if I didn’t, they’d be out on their asses looking for a new coach—but you’ve been with me a long time, and you’re like a son to me. And no son of mine would have such a fucked up self-image. That’s your old man talkin’ through you, is what that is, and it’s a bunch of bullshit.”
“Butch, before I showed up she was half in love with an orthopedic surgeon. The guy took her on a date and wanted to take her on more. He’s got money, good looks, and has a shit load of things in common with her.”
“So?”
“So I’m already going in as the underdog! In the grand scheme of what women look for in a guy, Dr. Douchebag wins hands down.”
“On paper. He only wins on paper, kid.” Butch leaned forward and smiled. “What have I always told you the trump card is in any fight?”
Reid met the steady gaze of his coach and started to see a glimmer of light at the end of that long, dark tunnel he’d been in for weeks. “Heart. Any fighter can win against any odds if he has more heart than his opponent.”
Butch slapped him on the shoulder and sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Exactly. And not only do you have heart, son, I’d wager you’ve got hers, too, if you want it. But that’s up to you. Now, go home and get some rest. No matter what you decide you still have a fight tomorrow and I need your head on straight or you’re gonna get it knocked off. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied as he got up to leave. Just as he opened the office door his coach called his name.
“No matter what happens, I’m here for you. Good luck, son.”
It seemed like such a normal sentiment. One that a person would hear any number of times in their life. And yet, that had been the first time Reid had ever heard those words.
He tried to speak—even a muttered “thanks” would’ve been acceptable—but his throat had completely closed up, not to mention his eyes were starting to water. Before he completely broke down he gave his coach a curt nod and closed the door behind him.
…
Reid straddled a chair with his wrists propped on the back as Scotty wrapped the athletic tape around his hands and fingers, preparing him for his fight with Diaz.
He’d had all night and most of the day to figure out what he was going to do about the situation with Lucie. A couple of hours ago he made a decision. A decision he couldn’t have predicted a few months ago, but one he was surprisingly at peace with.
A knock sounded on the door and Scotty looked to Reid for direction. Some fighters hated any type of distraction before a fight. Reid had never been the kind who needed to drown out the world with music blasting in his ears as he jumped around the room, psyching himself up. He was more like a snake hiding in the grass. Quiet, patient, and introspective until the cage door closed behind him and it was time to strike.
Reid nodded at Scotty who then called for the person to enter.
Assuming it was one of his teammates wanting to hang out in the room with him, he didn’t look up. But at the first sound of the man’s voice, Reid’s head snapped up to see his father standing in the doorway, wringing his gray plaid cabbie hat in his hands.
“Hey,” Stan said before clearing his throat. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know I was here, so…”
Scotty ripped the roll of tape off and secured the end with a few hard pats. “You’re all set, Andrews. You’ve got about a half hour or so.” Glancing at Reid’s dad, he added, “I’ll tell your corner team to wait for you out in the hall.”
“Thanks, Scotty.” He waited for the door to close again before standing and addressing the man who hadn’t come to one of his professional fights before. “Why’re you here, Pop?”
“Look, if you want me to go—”
“That’s not what I said. I just want to know…why now?”
Stan’s defensive attitude leaked out him, his shoulders rounding forward slightly, his eyes dropping to the hat dying a torturous death in his grizzled hands. After a few moments, the older man sighed, rubbed a hand over the back of his head, and met Reid’s gaze.
“When your mother left, I felt like she ripped the heart from my chest and took it with her. I made up my mind that I’d never love anyone ever again. And I guess that included you.” With heavy feet he walked over to one of the couches in the room and sat down. “I was so goddamn angry at her, and looking at you was like…”
He shook his head as if to tell himself not to finish that thought, but it was pretty obvious what he’d been about to say. “I guess I thought if I was hard enough on you that you’d prove my theory right and give up…just like she gave up on us.”
Reid straddled the chair he’d been in earlier again, afraid that without its support, he’d collapse from shock. Never in his life had he thought he’d ever have this conversation with his father. Though he’d always suspected the cause of h
is father’s actions, to hear it directly from him was almost surreal.
Strength seeped into his father’s stocky frame, and with his jaw set and his brown eyes locked onto Reid, his resolve was palpable. “But no matter what I did, you never quit. And I respect the hell out of you for that.”
Reid refused to acknowledge the stinging behind his eyes, but it was much harder to discount the cracking of the ice that had entombed his feelings for his dad for so many years. “Guess I take after my father in that respect.”
His dad swallowed thickly and blinked a few times until the moisture that had momentarily covered his eyes was no longer there. Then he stood and placed his now-wrinkled cap on his head. “Maybe the next time you’re in town, we can go grab a beer or something.”
A social outing with his dad? The mere idea was baffling. When he didn’t answer right away, the man strode toward the door saying, “Or not, whatever. It was just an idea—”
Reid quickly swung himself off the chair. “I’d like that.”
Stan pulled up just short of the door and looked back with something that almost resembled relief, but then covered it with a stiff nod in Reid’s direction. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
Reid wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing alone in the room after his father had walked out, but it must have been a while because his teammates actually had to come in and tell him it was time to glove up and go.
Thinking he must have slipped into some sort of daydreaming twilight zone, Reid turned to one of his buddies and said, “Punch me.” When all he got was a raised eyebrow in response, Reid slapped his stomach with both hands. “Come on!”
The guy shrugged and nailed him a good one right to the abs. He’d been ready for it, but Adam had a sledgehammer for a fist so it still pushed the air from his lungs. Nope. Definitely not dreaming. Rubbing his stomach, Reid grunted, “Thanks. I think.”
“Anytime, man. You ready to do this?”
Reid nodded and accepted the red gloves held out to him. As he made his way down the long hall toward the arena and the roar of the crowd, Reid felt like he’d already won one fight tonight. His dad had extended an olive branch of sorts and said he was proud of him. Un-fucking-believable.
Now all that was left was to get through the fight with Diaz and go talk to Lucie. Sounded simple enough, but they were both going to be the fight of his life in their own way. One, he could stand to lose. A loss on the other would crush him utterly and completely, leaving him broken.
But like his dad said, Reid had never been a quitter, and his wins practically eclipsed his losses. So he’d do what he always did. He’d fight like his life depended on it. Because this time, it very well might.
Chapter Nineteen
The ballroom resembled a starlit winter night in the middle of August. The committee had certainly outdone themselves, Lucie noted. Thousands of tiny lights twinkled among yards and yards of white tulle draped in graceful arcs along the ceiling with dozens of white paper lanterns hung in the spaces the netted lights had left open.
Tables were draped in linens, topped with fine china, and surrounded by linen covered chairs; all in white. Even the floral arrangements in the center of the tables and placed around the room were white roses, cut to several inches from the bloom and placed in shallow glass bowls until the entire surface area was filled. No greenery necessary.
The only colors in the entire room were the dresses of the guests. Moving among the white backdrop they sparkled like gemstones of every color, with the exception of the men in their black tuxes. Lucie watched them congregate and move in packs and almost shot punch from her nose when she realized they looked like penguins waddling on the ice of the Antarctic.
“Are you okay?” Vanessa asked as she patted Lucie on the back. “I told you not to drink the red punch when you’re wearing a white dress. It’s too risky. You should be drinking club soda or water.”
Lucie set the punch on the table in front of her and glanced down at her floor-length satin sheath dress with a sigh. Next year she’d have to make friends with someone on the decorations committee so she wouldn’t end up looking like part of the furnishings. Good thing she’d picked up a bit of color at the beach last weekend so at least she was visible above the strapless bodice. Still, she felt indistinguishable from her snow-white surroundings, blending in where others shined.
And wasn’t that just a metaphor for her life.
She looked over at her best friend who’d been kind enough to come as her date since Lucie had purchased two tickets a month ago with the hope of bringing Reid. Vanessa was of course radiant with her wild red-gold hair tamed in a French twist and an emerald gown that looked dyed to match the exact shade of her eyes. She drew the attention of every man in the room effortlessly. Ever the yin to her yang.
“Remind me again why you couldn’t just use my ticket and bring one of the guys from the firm with you?” Lucie asked as she scanned the room dejectedly.
“Ah. That, my dear, is because you have an inherent inability to say ‘no’ to people and agreed to be put up for auction like a piece of meat,” she said a little too cheerfully.
“Oh right. That.”
At the mention of the Date-A-Doc Auction Lucie’s stomach performed acrobatics worthy of an Olympic Gold. The auction—where guests at the ball could bid on members of the hospital staff for a date—was always the biggest fundraiser of the entire event. Lucie had never been asked to participate before, nor had she wanted to be. Unfortunately, one of the female residents came down with mono the week before and Sandy, the head nurse who embodied every depiction of Mrs. Claus ever known, begged Lucie to take her place.
The sound of a microphone clicking on and being tapped a few times poured from the large speakers at the head of the room where a stage had been erected for the event. “Can I have everyone’s attention?”
Speak of the devil.
A jovial Sandy in a lovely pale blue gown stood center stage with the auction program in hand.
“Oh, God,” Lucie muttered while holding a hand to her stomach.
“Come on,” Vanessa said, grabbing her by the hand. “Let’s go find Kyle and Eric, hold up the bar, and get you well and properly buzzed on clear alcohol until your number’s up.”
“Until my number’s up?” she repeated, incredulous, then relaxed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, you mean until it’s my turn.”
“Duh-uh,” Vanessa said with a giggle.
“Actually, what you said is a rather appropriate turn of phrase considering how I feel. Lead the way, oh, wise one.”
For the next half hour Vanessa and the guys stood with Lucie and watched as men and women were called up one by one to the stage and asked to stand there as a short bio was read of their interests and hobbies like a cheesy rendition of Love Connection.
All night Lucie had managed to steer clear of Stephen. After Reid had broken her heart and solidified her theory that incompatible couples were doomed, she’d gone on one more date with him. Though she knew it was more out of spite than still believing she loved the handsome surgeon, she’d done her best to note his good qualities to prove that she could be at the very least content with him as a partner in marriage and life, should things go that far.
But by the end of the night, all she’d managed was comparing every little thing he did or said to Reid. And as she expected, Stephen fell woefully short on every level. She’d even let him kiss her at the end, hoping that a spark of chemistry would make up for other areas where he lacked. But it had only proved that kissing Stephen Mann was as exciting as pressing her lips to a CPR mannequin, which had also reminded her that her certification was due for a re-up. So at least it hadn’t been a total loss.
Despite how badly it hurt, Lucie couldn’t bring herself to regret falling in love with Reid. The few weeks they’d spent together had been the best weeks of her life. He’d taught her so much about herself and how to live life instead of simply watching from the sidelines.
She was more confident, more comfortable in her own skin, and she owed that all to him.
So after a full week of crying into countless pints of Cherry Garcia ice cream—and a home intervention by Nessie and the boys—she’d picked herself up, brushed herself off, and looked to the future with her head held high.
Her biggest problem now was that she and Stephen had done a complete role reversal. After that date she’d told him that it just wasn’t going to work out. He countered with ideas of grandeur of what their life could be like and asked her on another date. To the hospital ball. The very thing she’d wanted from the beginning.
And now she was at the ball, alone, and wishing she was curled up in her apartment with the one person she’d been certain was all wrong for her.
Yep, she thought as she downed the last of her drink. Her life was now the very definition of irony.
“Last but not least we have a wonderful young lady who stepped in at the last minute when Stacy fell ill, Miss Lucinda Miller. Come on up, dear.”
The crowd applauded the calling of their final victim. Lucie pinned a glare on Eric and Kyle and poked each of them in the chest discreetly. With a fake smile plastered on her face she said, “If one of you aren’t the highest bidders, I will personally see that you’re both eunuchs by the end of the night.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they answered together, glasses raised and all smiles.
She mentally scoffed as she made her way to the stage. They weren’t taking her seriously, but they’d better come through. They’d promised they’d make sure no one else won her. That way she did her part, the hospital got money, and she didn’t have to go on a date with anyone creepy, crotchety, or any other bad words that started with a “cr” blend.
Several minutes later, she stood next to Sandy as she finished reading a bio Lucie couldn’t even remember writing. And then it began.
“Okay,” Sandy said into the mic, “let’s start the bids at five hundred dollars.”
“Five hundred,” Kyle said from over by the bar.
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