by Rose Hudson
“Home,” she says. I tilt my head and give her my best mischievous look, but she just smiles and shakes her head. “Home.”
“Well, you’re no fun,” I tease, leaning in to hug her tight. “I won’t read it now, but I can’t guarantee I won’t read it in the cab on the way home. So, ha, ha.”
She rolls her eyes and a lump forms in my throat. It really is her in there. Not someone I don’t know, but the Madi I’ve known my entire life.
I’m not sure if it’s the tequila, the overload of carbs, or pure exhaustion finally catching up to me, but I guess before we even got out of the gated community, I dozed off. Which will be something I never mention to my father because I can’t count the number of times he’s lectured me about never falling asleep in a cab or else I’ll end up dead in the river.
I come to as the car pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment, paying the fair and tipping a little extra to the cabbie for not killing me.
Tossing my keys on the entry table in my apartment, the first thing that hits me is the smell of Liam and all things baby. I knew that today would be a domino of emotions, but that smell hits me square in the heart. Not because I won’t see him, not because I didn’t hope for his and Madi’s sake, that this was temporary. But because I realize how empty my life is now that he’s gone.
Knowing that he is reunited with his mother and that she is going to be around for his life has got to be the most rewarding feeling of my life. More rewarding than excelling in law school. More rewarding than earning my degree and setting myself up for the future that I want for myself. More rewarding than my own happiness. It’s all I’ve wanted.
But it’s also a hard slap of reality to the face. A slap that brings with it the knowledge that I want that for myself. I want the husband. I want the children. I want the family. Maybe not anytime soon, but eventually, I want it. I have love to give and I want that in return, as much as I want to be an attorney who fights for what’s right, who fights for the rights of those who don’t have anyone in their corner and the laws that protect them.
Placing my jacket on the rack, I slip off my shoes and walk around, picking up little remnants of Liam and carrying them down the hall to his nursery. I flip on the light and put everything in its place, sitting in the rocking chair and breathing in his sweet smell, knowing it will last as a reminder of the little family life I’ve lived for all these weeks that’s now come to an abrupt and lonely end.
None of this mattered before. It was all just a way of life that I’d never given much thought to. Now, I have a feeling I will think about it far more than I care to.
I pull my phone from my pocket, opening the gallery and scrolling through all the pictures; Liam asleep, Liam in my lap making faces, Liam asleep on Stone’s chest. I close my eyes at that one, remembering the way it felt to witness Stone with him, how on more than one occasion I had allowed my mind to venture to a place where he as a father, maybe someday with our own children, wasn’t so farfetched.
Of course, those thoughts were always short-lived and shaken off with brute force because I felt like I was seeing a life with possibilities that could never be—a life that he didn’t want with me.
But these last couple of weeks something changed. He changed. Or hell, maybe I changed. Maybe I was finally tired of pushing him away and denying what was happening between us regardless of who he is and what I thought I wanted him to be; someone who wasn’t or ever had been a fighter.
Now I see that is exactly who I know he isn’t. It’s something he did, not who he is. It’s something that made him the strong, loyal, dedicated man he is and those are all the things that have made me fall for him in the end.
I push out of the chair and turn off the light, walking to my bedroom to shower. I pull off my shirt and unbutton my jeans, but when I push them down my hips, I hear the crinkle of paper. Remembering Madi’s letter, I reach in the back pocket and pull out the envelope. I pull out the folded paper, opening it to see sentence after sentence of typed text and I begin to read.
To my Lydia,
What a roller coaster of a ride I’m sure these last months have been for you, especially these last weeks as you’ve taken on the mommy role in Liam’s life while I couldn’t be there. I could write page after page of words from my heart, expressing my gratitude and the fact that I will never be able to put into words what you’ve done for us and it still wouldn’t be enough.
I know you as well as I know myself, and I know you did it without question, and hopefully knowing with certainty that if the roles were reversed I would have done the same for you. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart and my endless love for you, thank you.
But honestly, that’s not what this letter is meant for, not entirely anyway. I’m writing this letter after a conversation I had with Mom, who I can bet money on, you didn’t think knew anything about the wonderful man who came into your life and helped care for my son. But like we’ve always been wrong about, our parents talk—a lot.
She told me that when they weren’t there for you and Liam like they should have been, a discussion for a different time, and one I’m sure will take some getting over on my part, that Stone stepped in.
But the part that stuck out to me the most was the apparent guilt you’ve been feeling about your involvement with him because of how you thought I might feel betrayed or angry because he, like Damon, is a fighter.
First, let me just say that I’m under no illusions that Damon was a good person, but again, that’s another discussion for another time. But also, I know that just because someone is or was a fighter in the underground, means in any way that they were or are like Damon. I can say with certainty that Stone is nothing like him, even without formally meeting him. No man that would do what Stone has done for my best friend and my son could ever be placed in the same category as a man such as Damon Daniels.
You’ve spent our entire lives cleaning up my messes and sacrificing your own life for mine. That’s who you are, Lydia. To the deepest parts of your soul, you are all that’s good in this world and I will never understand, other than the fact that we are family, why you’ve stayed by my side. But God knows I’d be lost without you.
But now it’s my turn to look after you.
You deserve happiness and love as much or more than the rest of us, and if I have to get my walker and come over there to forcibly make you, you’re going to go after this man with the fearless determination that you’ve always gone after anything you set your mind to. Stop worrying about me, or Liam, or our parents, and worry about you and this life I know you want. I saw it in your eyes when you talked about him that day—you are in love with him.
I was so angry that I couldn’t say all of this that day. So angry that I couldn’t tell you that no matter who or what this man has done in his life, he deserves all of you. And I know you know that, so at this point, I’m probably rambling. But I want to make sure you know that I want your happiness as much as my own.
He may fight in the circle but you’re a fighter, too. So, go fight for him.
You are a part of me and I love you.
Madi
Tears pour from my eyes landing like raindrops along the paper. I hold it to my chest, feeling like the last puzzle piece has finally fallen into place. It’s her, every word. And I’m angry at myself for ever letting one second pass where I doubted that she would be again.
Everything she’s said is exactly what I needed to hear, crafted in her own special way like a decree of absolution. And every word is right. What she said about me, what she said about Stone, it’s all right.
He never was, nor will he ever be like Damon. Down to the deepest parts of myself, I knew he wasn’t someone to be feared the first time he touched me. He was someone to be proud to know, someone who would protect me and anyone else he cared about at the risk of putting himself in danger, or worse.
He is the person I want to be. The person who fights for what’s right, no matter the risk.
His parting words to me make so much sense now, that my chest hurts. We aren’t different at all. We do fight for different reasons, he’s just been fighting for a lot longer than I have.
And now it’s my turn to fight for him.
HER WORDS HAVE HAUNTED ME for days and the fucking ache in my chest only seems to grow. No matter how many times I hit the bag, hit my sparring partner, hit the ground, it doesn’t quell the urge to tear something in half. Nothing has ever made me so angry, so determined, so savage.
When I had her in my bed the other night, all the feelings I’ve had for her, the ones I’ve kept at bay and unacknowledged, suddenly became undeniable. I can’t be sure if she felt it, but in every touch, every kiss, every thrust, I felt it.
Any love I’ve ever felt for someone has in one way or another been a requirement. The love I feel for Lydia is the most organic, unaltered and natural feeling I’ve ever felt, and now I feel like I’m lost.
She told me one day that with Madison not there to talk to, to experience everyday life with, she felt lost, floating through life on a whim. That’s what I feel. Like I’m fucking floating from one place to the next, breathing in and out, going through the motions and trying my damnedest not to fall over the edge.
The only positive that’s come out of this is that I’ve never felt more ready for a fight before. There’s a small part of me that’s fearful of the damage I’ll do to this guy and the mark I’ll leave on the syndicate when I step out of the ring for the last time. I’ll be labeled a fucking joke. Most know I’ve never lost a fight, but suspiciously I lose the last one of my underground career? And it’s that last part that worries me about this whole deal. How do I know that this will be the last time Cameron comes calling?
In the position he’s in, he could come back, time and again, with whatever bullshit reason he comes up with. And how would it be any different than this? It would just be another battle I must fight and win to keep my head above water or my family safe.
He says he keeps his word, but there is no way I’ll ever know that to be true without taking this fight and in the end, taking the fall.
I stare down at the sink as the water swirls around the porcelain and down the drain, the similarity between it and my life seemingly on par with one another. My teeth slide against one another as the force of my jaw pressing together grows.
“The ol’ man said he’d be there at six. Better hurry your ass up.” Thorn, who’s stayed at my house for the last couple of nights, for what fucking reason I couldn’t say, yells from downstairs.
“Did you take Bruno around the block?” I yell back.
“Yes, sir.”
He’s taken him for short runs the last two mornings because I can’t go run the jogging path. Mine and Lydia’s schedules are too similar and it means the odds of us running into one another are high.
She made it real fucking clear she didn’t want to see me.
“Five minutes.”
The smell of this gym is burned into my brain. The feel of the mats under me feel as familiar as socks to the soles of my feet, but today, like gasoline to an already blazing fire. I knew I’d never be able to look at this place the same again. She’s here. She’s everywhere.
When we pulled up, Evan and Casper were already inside waiting. It could just be me, but having the old man here seems to have sparked him back to life a little. My needs were initially selfish, needing him beside the ring to guide me like he always has, but now it seems like requesting his presence is good for the both of us.
“Goddamn, Hammer. Are you trying to tickle him or break his ribs?” Casper says. A cocky smile spreads across Thorn’s face as he dances around the ring. I hate sparring with him. Hate it. Even training is a game to him. I’ll put it this way; nobody has to tell Thorn how good he is. There’s been plenty of times I’d like to do the big brother thing and give him a pat on the back, but he does that all by himself.
“Yeah, brother. You know I’m ticklish,” Thorn chuckles. When he drops his hands to look at Casper, I sweep his legs out from under him, dropping him to the mat and pinning his chest with my knee before he can look up at me. Sure, I’d love to punch him. Who wouldn’t. But we run a business together and I can’t afford him taking time off. “Get the fuck off me.” He’s quick to spit venom. I chuckle and pull him up.
“All right, enough screwing around. Hit the treadmill, then you’re done.”
I slip through the ropes of the ring and down to the floor. “What’s the next two days look like?” I ask.
“Conditioning only. Rest. Hit the bags, go for a run, but no sparring.”
“That it?” I pause wiping my face with a towel.
“You know the drill. That’s it.” Casper stands from the stool.
“So, fucking’s okay?” Thorn pipes up behind, laughing to himself.
“If there’s someone out there willing to fuck the little bastard, go for it.” Casper makes his way slowly toward the front. I glare at Thorn. The motherfucker knows there’s no one. I can’t even swallow the thought of her. If I do, I’ll taste all the ways I fucking miss her.
“Here, I’ll take you home. Let me pull my truck around.”
“You skipping out on the treadmill?”
“No, sir. I’m going to hit the running trail.”
“Well, all right. I’ll be up here.” He motions toward the front. I grab my bag and pull out my joggers to throw on over my shorts. As I pull my hoodie over my head, the fabric expands, releasing a scent that I’m unprepared for. A mix of Lydia and Liam washes over me and I hold my breath, realizing I haven’t worn this since the last time I was at her apartment.
Fuck.
I wasn’t ready for that.
After dropping Casper off, I stop by Celia’s and grab Bruno from the back yard to take him to Lakefront with me. I open the kitchen door and yell out, “Anybody home?”
“Yeah,” Jerry yells back from the living room. I walk in, Bruno following behind me. When I round the corner, Celia comes down the stairs, Jerry sitting in his recliner like always.
“Where you headed?” Jerry asks.
“Gonna take Bruno for a run. Casper said cardio only, so I’m following orders.”
“Good. I’m glad you came by, got something for you.” He pushes in the footrest and gets up from the recliner, walking around me and into the kitchen. Celia and I exchange a look, sure she’s as confused as I am. “Here.”
I turn and he hands me a jar. “What’s this?”
“Old school recipe. Fool proof. Take a hot soak before your fight, put this in it.”
I look up at him and nod. “Thanks.”
“And don’t be out raising hell either. Go home and stay there.”
“I have done this before. Remember?”
“Yeah, but you’ve never had a damn year between fights either.”
“I got it.” I’m thrown by his gesture. I can’t remember him ever giving me advice, so this is new. He returns to his seat and I look up at Celia whose eyes are notably wide. We walk into the kitchen.
“I was thinking about switching shifts with Martha on Sunday. Would you and Lydia be able to come for dinner?” The mention of her name from Celia’s lips makes me flinch. So much for getting in and out unscathed.
“I don’t think we can make it.”
“And just why not?”
“Because I haven’t talked to her in a week, and I don’t think she would be too keen on dinner at this point.” Mom steps around me, standing in front of me and keeping me from leaving through the side door.
“What happened? Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing, Mom. Leave it alone. Okay?” I turn, palms on the counter, praying she drops it.
“Okay. I’ll leave it alone, Stone. Because you’re hardheaded and I wouldn’t get anything out of you anyway. But I will say this; I saw the way you looked at that girl. Swallow that pride you’re so notorious for and open your eyes. Fight for something worth fighting over for a change.” She pats me on th
e back, turning to leave the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mom.”
I see her pause out of the corner of my eye. “You’re welcome, son.”
Bruno’s so damn excited he almost chokes himself on the damn leash when we get out at Lake Shore. I feel like shit for neglecting him, but I just wasn’t willing to risk the run in. Fuck that. I’m days away from the fight, seeing her would bring me back down to Earth. And seeing her wouldn’t be enough anyway.
“Chill out, dude,” I say, clipping his leash back on. “All right, look at me. No fucking around. No sniffing butts. We run.” I take the leash and he jumps down from the truck and we make our way to the running path.
The sun glaring off the snow-covered ground is blinding, but with the feel of the ground beneath my feet and Bruno’s tongue hanging out as we run down the path, I’d easily choose to lose my sight rather than stay indoors one more day.
I tell myself all the time that I need to move south a little because there are some months here in Chicago that is damn near impossible to sustain being outside. But we do it. And as much as I’d like to imagine being other places, this city is my home.
The path is packed with runners, tourists and couples walking snuggled to each other’s sides. It makes me feel Lydia’s absence beside me that much more. There haven’t been many times over the last month that I’ve run without her here, other than when her ankle was injured, and I feel out of sorts, out of place, a sudden implant in my own city.
I pick up my pace, Bruno keeping up to my side as I pull my gaiter facemask tighter over the bridge of my nose, the fierce air burning my nostrils. I don’t just feel like jogging, I feel like sprinting. Like running my ass off until my feet feel melded into the soles of my shoes. Like the only thing that will keep my mind off her and what could have been, is killing myself with each slap of my feet on this pavement.
Bruno starts easing farther and farther ahead of me until his leash stretches to its limit, forcing my grip to tighten around the end of it.
“Bruno, heel.” He doesn’t ease up. “Bruno, now. Heel.” I jerk on the leash but he keeps pushing onward, forcing me to increase my pace. When I’m running at my max speed, barely keeping up with him, it registers that he’s not just running, he’s tracking something.