Tapout

by J.C. Valentine

  Looking back at Jami, Alyson bit her lip. He was watching her through bloodshot eyes. Catching the infinitesimal nod of approval, hope sprung to life in her chest. “I can stay. I want to stay.”

  “You’re the fiancée?” the nurse asked.

  “Yes, yes, that’s me.” Alyson held her breath while the nurse came to a decision.

  “Fine, you can stay,” she concluded. “But the rest of you need to leave.”

  Liv hugged her shoulders briefly and followed Spencer from the room, both choosing to leave without another word. Don on the other hand…

  “She gets to stay?” he said incredulously. “She just lied right to your face. She’s no fiancée. If anyone needs to go, it’s her.”

  Alyson’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? And what excuse did you give to get in here, because you’re certainly not a relative.”

  “I’m a hell of a lot closer to one than you are,” Don shot back.

  “Shoving your head up his ass doesn’t count.” Alyson stepped back as Don lunged for her, looking like he wanted to choke the life out of her. The smile she directed at him was twisted, full of anger and disgust.

  “I’m going to kick you both out,” the doctor warned, coming to stand between them. “Now, Beth said one of you can stay. Who’s it going to be?”

  “Me,” Don and Alyson said in unison, and that started them yelling all over again.

  “Stop.” The first time, Jami’s voice barely registered. The second time, everyone in the room froze. “I said stop!” Struggling to sit up, Alyson hurried to help him, but one look at the fire snapping in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. The sound of his gravelly voice both warmed her and worried her. “I’m sick and tired of this,” he rasped, each word sounding painful to get out. “I just lost my best friend. If you two don’t find a way to work this out…” Sucking in a lungful of air, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest in defeat. “Just fucking work it out.”

  Alyson looked away guiltily, and then swung to Don, whose eyes were narrowed at the floor. “Jami,” she whispered, risking his wrath as she reached out and cupped his jaw. Her heart broke when his eyes lifted to meet hers. “I’m sorry. We’ll work it out, okay? We’ll work it out.” Lowering her mouth to his, she kissed him as softly as she could and turned away, passing Don a determined look.

  She didn’t wait around to see if he would follow her. The chapel was located at the end of the hall on the first floor, just past the main entrance. She sat in the middle of the first row, bristling with the urge to lash out at him when she heard Don’s muted footsteps enter a minute later.

  He didn’t sit beside her, instead choosing to settle in at the far end of the second pew, placing him on the outskirts of her peripheral vision. Focusing on the image of Jesus on the cross, Alyson took a moment to send up a prayer. If she and Don were going to come to any kind of agreement, they were going to need all the help they could get.

  “You don’t like me,” she started, “and that’s fine, because I don’t like you either.”

  “Shooting it straight. I like that.” Don’s gruff voice was filled with amusement, and it raised her hackles, but Alyson bit her tongue and pressed on.

  “I won’t pretend to understand it, except to say that I think you need to take a good, hard look in the mirror. I’ve never done anything to warrant your mistreatment of me—please, let me say my piece,” she rushed out when he attempted to interrupt. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she took a deep breath and continued. “I’m here for Jami. I love him, and I know you know that he loves me. Maybe you feel like my being with him will somehow push you out, but I promise you, it won’t. He can love both of us. It doesn’t have to be either/or, and it’s not fair to make him have to choose. I think we both know that too much water has passed under the bridge for you and me to ever be friends” —his grunt of agreement confirmed that— “but we can get along. We don’t have to fight, or give each other dirty looks whenever we walk into a room. Just be cordial.”

  Don cleared his throat. “Are you finished? I’d like to say my piece now.” Though she could do without the attitude, Alyson nodded, giving him the floor. “No, I don’t like you. I have my reasons, probably not all of them sound or justified, but I have them. And you’re right. It’d probably be a good idea to look in a mirror once in a while. Jami said as much not too long ago. If we’re being candid, I may be a little jealous. Since you two got together, I’ve been watching the only person I give a shit about, and who gives a shit about me, pull away. Jami’s moving on now, starting a new path in his life, and it doesn’t include me. That’s a tough break for an old man like me.”

  Alyson turned to look at him, feeling her chest ache with sympathy. Directed at someone like Don, it actually made her a little uncomfortable. “It doesn’t have to be that way—you not being a part of both of his lives. Jami considers you the father he never had. He wants you there for all of it, and you could be if you stopped holding on so hard. You know,” she said, swallowing tightly, “you and me aren’t in such different places. We both want to be part of his world. I’m just asking for a piece of it.”

  Gray eyes narrowing, Don asked, “You really love him?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re not going to try to change him?”

  “Maybe just a little bit.” Alyson held up two fingers, measuring them an inch apart, and smiled.

  “You won’t try to control him?”

  “Not even a little.”

  “And you’ll let me come to the wedding.”

  Alyson laughed and shook her head. “We’re not even engaged, or did you forget that was a lie?”

  “No, but you will be.” Don looked at her, his expression serious enough to force her to look away. She and Jami had never spoken about marriage, but if Don was so sure… he was delusional, she decided. “So, do we have a deal? We’ll both agree to get along for Jami’s sake?”

  “Deal.”

  Standing, Alyson opened her arms. “Wanna hug it out?”

  Don’s head reared back, trying to act offended, but Alyson could see the smile dancing in his eyes. “Hell no, we’re nowhere close to all that.”

  Dropping her arms, Alyson held out a hand instead. “Then what do you say we shake on it?”

  “Now that I can do.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Two months later…

  Jami was stubborn as hell, which was probably why he was making such enormous strides in his recovery. Even the doctors were impressed with the progress he made.

  Even so, mending bone was a process that couldn’t be rushed, no matter how much a person might wish it so. Jami was back in the gym six days a week. He’d trimmed his hours out of necessity, his body too damaged to keep up the vigorous pace he was used to setting for himself, and Alyson was by his side every step of the way.

  She couldn’t count how many times she’d had to step in and make him take a break, or talk him down before he blew a gasket. Jami grew frustrated easily these days, losing his temper over the small stuff—like dropping and misplacing things. He claimed the pain meds clouded his mind, but anytime he talked about stopping them, Alyson was right there to talk him out of it.

  Stubborn was too nice a word for Jami. He was a foul beast most days, which had she not been so understanding, could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back and ended their relationship. Jami wasn’t himself. He was struggling with his injuries and the reality of having to take a step back, admit a measure of weakness, and accept help from others. It wasn’t the way he preferred to deal with life’s little hiccups, but Alyson was determined to prove to him that sometimes being strong meant asking for help.

  “Take it,” she snapped, shaking her fist. Her foot tapped impatiently on the beige carpet of their new living room, the first of many changes since bringing Jami home from the hospital. Despite Don’s insistence for them to both stay, Jami refused. Even though she and Don had reached an understanding, it didn’t mean she sudde
nly wanted to be roomies. Within a week, Alyson had an apartment hand selected and Jami gave her the go-ahead, sight unseen, to sign the contract.

  They had been living together, in their own place, filled with the furniture from her previous, water-logged apartment, for going on a month now, and it was pure bliss. Moody man or not, Alyson was enjoying every sinful, uninterrupted minute alone with her boyfriend.

  Jami pushed her hand away. “I told you that I don’t need any more damn pills. My hand doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

  “That’s because you’ve been taking your pills.” She thrust her hand out again, lifting a challenging brow. “Now, be a good little boy and do what I tell you before things get ugly.” A falsely sweet smile crossed her face as Jami gave her a dirty look, opened his mouth, and she dropped the two little blue pills on his tongue. “There, now was that so bad?”

  He swallowed, and then flashed his tongue to show they were gone. “Happy, Mommy?”

  Bending at the waist, Alyson gave him a smacking kiss. “Pleased as punch.”

  “You’re scary sometimes, you know that?” He winked at her, and then returned his attention to his shoe. “I feel like I need those grandpa shoes, the ones with the Velcro straps. My fingers won’t work for shit anymore.”

  The doctor removed his cast the day before, and ever since, Jami had been testing his hand’s level of dexterity. She served as his first experiment. Tingles shot down her spine and settled down low as she recalled the incredible things those fingers had done to her, causing her to make sounds she’d never heard herself make before. “You know what the doctor said, give it time.”

  “I’m running out of time,” Jami grumbled, finally giving up on tying his shoes. Tucking the laces into the sides, he stood. “Ready to go?”

  Alyson grabbed her purse and followed him out the door. The one thing that Jami had been looking forward to was getting away from the house. After being cooped up for so long to recover, he’d gone stir crazy. Now, he was making up for lost time. The nights were no longer filled with dinner in front of the television. In the last week alone, they’d gone out every night. Sometimes, they just went for a long drive, others to try out a new restaurant. Once, he’d taken her to their private oasis in the park, and despite the slight chill in the air hinting at the impending autumn, they’d made love beneath the stars.

  It had been the most perfect week of her life, and she’d found herself fantasizing about all the perfect weeks that lay ahead. It was selfish of her, but she worried that when he returned to the ring, all of it would be lost.

  “You know, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you had to stop fighting,” she said softly as they climbed into his truck.

  Turning on the ignition, the engine rumbled as Jami backed out of their parking space. “Not to you, maybe,” Jami huffed. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, just one of many indications that he was becoming irritated.

  Jami refused to entertain the idea that he might not get the chance to finish what he started, which was why he’d been working so hard to get back to his pre-beaten-to-a-bloody-pulp self. It pissed Alyson off, but flat out asking him to give up his dreams wasn’t an option. It would only make him hate her, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  No, if Jami were to ever stop fighting, it would have to be on his terms, in his time.

  “You know I support any decision you make,” Alyson told him as she reached over to give his knee an affectionate squeeze.

  Releasing his death grip on the wheel, Jami dropped his hand to hers, weaving their fingers together. Clasping her palm against his, he brought their twined hands to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers. “I know that, thank you.” He sighed deeply, staring out the windshield as he guided the truck through late night traffic. Tonight, they’d planned to see a movie. Something with action, Jami told her, but he refused to reveal the title. She didn’t care what they watched, so long as it was with him, and she had a big box of Sour Patch Kids to munch on.

  “I know you want me to retire,” Jami was saying, and Alyson turned her head to look at him, admiring his perfect profile. “You were scared after Maretti, and I get it. I was scared, too. But this is me. Fighting is what I love. I’m not ready to stop. One day I will, and that’s where Knockout comes in. I’ll have that to fall back on when I’m done, but I need you to know that today is not that day.”

  Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, Alyson gathered her thoughts. She wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t deaf. She’d lived under the same roof with him and Don, and she’d heard some things. She knew Jami wasn’t just in it anymore for the experience. He enjoyed the fights, using his fists, the lights, the fans, the attention lavished on him and the sense of pride and contentment that came with it, but she also knew that it was more than that. After coming to care for Miles and Tori, and because of his relationship with her, the fighting had become personal. Jami was on a mission, each fight acting as a stepping stone to the big finale. It wasn’t the championship he was after anymore. It was Tony Michaels.

  ***

  Jami took her to see The Avengers. She had to admit that it wasn’t half bad. She’d never been into comics, but she recognized most of the characters, and with the element of the fantastic mixed with reality, she was enjoying herself.

  About halfway through the movie, Jami’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and after covertly checking the screen, he’d excused himself. In the darkness of the theater, there was no sense of time, except for the little voice in her head that kept telling her that he’d been gone too long. A growing sense of unease had her watching the glowing stairs. A short hall that led to the exit sat beyond that, out of her line of sight.

  On screen, the Hulk was on another one of his rampages, but she wasn’t paying it any mind. Her focus was elsewhere. What was taking him so long? She was just about to go look for him, when Jami suddenly appeared. Bounding up the stairs, his long legs taking them three at a time, he kissed her cheek as he flipped his chair down and sat. “What did I miss?” he asked, his eyes sparkling happily.

  Instantly, Alyson was suspicious. “Who called?”

  “Oh, that? It was nothing.” Grabbing a handful of his popcorn, he stuffed it into his mouth.

  Alyson leaned in. “Nothing doesn’t take… fifteen minutes.” She was completely guessing on the time-frame. It was a conservative estimate, because she was certain it had been longer. Much longer.

  “Tony Stark is my favorite character.” He was avoiding giving her an answer, which only made her press him harder.

  Plucking the popcorn from his lap, Alyson tucked the half empty bag under her seat. “You’ll get that back when you decide to be honest with me.”

  A man in the row below theirs glared over his shoulder.

  “I am being honest with you,” Jami insisted.

  “Really? Then what does ‘nothing’ entail these days?”

  “Excuse me,” the man in front of them whispered harshly. “We’re trying to watch the movie.”

  “Good, I hope you’re enjoying it,” Jami returned snidely. The man turned back around, clearly put out. “Don called, okay? And that’s all I’m going to say right now. We can finish this discussion later. Now, can we try to enjoy what’s left of the movie?”

  Alyson felt her blood pressure rise at being dismissed, but she flipped her hand in the air, telling him without words to have at it.

  By the time they made it home, neither one of them were in the mood to talk. “I’m going to take a shower,” Jami told her as he dropped his keys onto the table and walked away.

  That was fine with her. She needed a moment away from him anyway to clear her head. In the bedroom, she put on a pair of loose pajama pants and an old t-shirt, and then pulled her hair back into a sloppy bun. Just the act of getting ready for bed helped to calm her. She was making a cup of warm milk when Jami found her.

  “Don said the commission needed an answer about the Michaels fight. Apparently, they aren’t willing to pu
t it off any longer.”

  Alyson jumped at the sound of his voice, and then stiffened at his words. Drawing a cup down from one of the cabinets, she carefully poured the steaming milk. No words were necessary. She already knew what his answer would be.

  “I told him to schedule it.”

  With her back to him, Jami couldn’t see the worry and hurt etched into her face, but he didn’t have to for him to know it was there. “You’re not fully healed yet.”

  “No, but I’m close enough.” Coming up behind her, Jami wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.

  “Close doesn’t mean ready. You’ll get hurt again, and then where will you be?”

  “I am ready,” Jami argued, speaking into her hair. “And I will get hurt again, but I’ll win.”

  Turning in his arms, Alyson gaped up at him. “So it’s okay to risk your recovery and everything you’ve achieved, just to win this one fight? Jami, what are you thinking?”

  Jami’s tone firmed, letting her know his decision was made. “I’m thinking that if this is going to be my last fight, I’m going to make it count.”

  “Your last fight?” She didn’t understand.

  “You said it yourself, I’m not one-hundred percent, and I never will be. Alyson, I’m not stupid, nor am I blind. I can’t even make a tight fist without it hurting, and no amount of recovery time is going to make everything better. It’s the end of the line for me, and I want to go out my way. Understand? I need this.”

  “What about the commission?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion. She hated the idea of Jami willingly placing himself in this position, but he was determined. She could see it in his eyes. “They’re not going to let you fight knowing you’ve been compromised.”

  “You let me worry about that, yeah? Besides, this fight shouldn’t even be happening. I’ve missed too many. Someone is pulling strings behind the curtains. I’m sure that the last thing the commission cares about is injuries when they’re willing to overlook that, and anyway, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”