When she slackened in his arms, panic seeped into his brain. He had been told about her panic attack during the Williams fight, told her heart couldn’t take too much pressure. “Tegan! Tegan! Oh, God...”
The doors chimed open, and Owen carried her limp form into the corridor, screaming for help. Within seconds, ward nurses rushed over to him, taking her from his grip and onto a wheeled bed. A blood pressure wrap was placed around her arm and an oxygen mask placed over her mouth. Owen heaved breaths, telling himself to calm down when he was doing anything but. They rushed Tegan through the emergency doors, and when they closed, it hit home that he might never see her again.
Owen paced the halls. No one on duty could tell him what was wrong. They couldn’t get through to the room she was in which meant they were still working on her. He wanted to go back down to the parking lot and lay waste to everything. He also wanted to force answers out of the nearest staff member, but as he leaned against the wall and placed his hands on his knees, rational thought seemed to edge through him. It wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t help Tegan.
From that clarity, through the rage, questions began to form. How did they know to be there? How did they know to be in the car park on the exact day Tegan was going in for her results? How did they know her name? That was more than just investigative journalism. It was then it hit Owen. This was how they were coming after him. Through Tegan.
How much did Diaz’ team know? Were they behind it? Could they be innocent? Did it even matter? Was the title fight itself a complete setup? He shook his head, clearing all thoughts except for Tegan as the doors opened and a nurse trotted out, spied him and headed over.
“You brought the young woman in?”
“Yes.” Owen stood up and walked closer, “How is she?”
“She’s resting. You can go in and see her in a few minutes when we get her a room.”
“What happened?”
“Looks like it was a panic attack. Her heart has a murmur. We were very, very lucky. Another few minutes...we might not have been able to help. I’ll let you know what room she’s in and I’ll have the paperwork ready for you,” she finished kindly. Thankfully, Owen didn’t have to wait long. After a few minutes, she leaned over the nurse’s station and called out a room number.
Owen found it quickly. Tegan was alone, sitting up in bed, her face the definition of exhaustion. “Did the nurse talk to you?”
Owen nodded. “She said we were really lucky. I’m so sorry about all that. It’s what I was afraid of.”
“Did she say anything about paperwork?”
“Oh...yeah. She said she would have it ready for me. Don’t worry about that.”
“It’s not admissions, babe. I can’t do this anymore,” she croaked from the bed.
Owen leaned forward and got close to her face. “Don’t say that. The results are here, right? You’ve been so brave. You can’t give up.”
“I can’t, Owen. I tried. I gave it my all. I don’t care what the results are. I’m not doing any more chemo. I don’t want any more surgery. If it’s spread like they thought, it won’t matter anyway. I want to enjoy the time I have left with you.”
“Teegs, please don’t say this, OK? You can’t give up hope,” he said thickly, stroking her cheek. “I need you to keep fighting. Please... I need you.”
“I need you...” she replied, “…to help me.”
“What do you mean?”
“If anything happens to me, I need you to tell them not to operate. Not to revive me.”
“Teegs, stop. I don’t want to hear this.”
“Well, you’re going to. You wanted to be here... I didn’t ask you to,” she said. She took his hand and continued gently, “Now I am.”
Owen got up slowly, sighing. “I’m gonna...go for a walk.”
“You can’t walk away from this, Owen. I need your help. I’ve given you power of attorney. Please.”
“You want me to sign a paper that’s basically going to kill you.”
“Owen... I’m dying. You know I am. I’m not trying to be heartless. I’m trying to spare you heartache. If we can just accept it, we can be happy. Sure, cry about it, but we can move on together in the time we have left. I don’t want you to remember me this way.”
“What way?”
“Someone that’s less than what they were meant to be,” she said, sitting up. “That you have to wait on hand and foot. That holds you back from your dreams. I don’t want to need someone to take care of me.”
“This is what love is.”
“No,” Tegan replied softly, tears welling in her eyes. “This is pity from a kind and beautiful soul, sweetheart. Please...help me.”
“Don’t make me do this... I CAN’T!” As the words left his mouth, he slapped the wall so hard Tegan jumped with the force and sound, weeping at his anger, his frustration. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing himself to calm down. “Do you understand what you’re asking? You want to die?”
“No. I want to live,” Tegan replied, tears falling down her cheeks, lips trembling. “But not like this. They took our baby to save me instead and look at me. This isn’t living anymore, not if the results turn out bad. I want to go on walks with you. I want you to read to me until I fall asleep. I want my own bed. I want us to be together. This beat me...but I don’t want it to beat us, and it is. I’m so sick of this place. I just want my own bed, and I want you. I’m not asking you to help me die. It’s the last thing I want. I’m asking you to help me live.”
Owen watched her cry for over a minute. Nothing more was said between them before he walked out to the nurses’ station. He took his time and asked the head nurse for Tegan’s approvals and permissions, in case she was put on life support. He was presented with the form and a pen. As he filled it, the paper had more and more drops of salt that fell from Owen’s face. He held in a breath as he came to the signature box.
He had signed thousands upon thousands of things over the years. Action figures to body parts. Never had he dreaded doing so until this moment. As the pen lifted from the box, now containing his signature, the strength in his legs failed him, and he crumbled at the desk. He sat in a warped cross-legged position with his head buried in his hands as two nurses rushed to his side. They asked what was wrong, but it was nothing they could help with.
He had just destroyed any last chance of saving Tegan’s life.
* * *
“You wanna talk about it?” Fiona asked from behind Owen. They were in the gym Owen had rented for his lead up to the fight. He had left the hospital after Tegan had fallen asleep. They had been told the results would be late. There had been a technical glitch which prevented them from coming through the system. Owen didn’t know if there was an actual glitch or not, but either way, he knew the reason the results were going to be late. Just another way to fuck with him and put him off his game.
“No. I’m fine,” he replied, stripping off his shirt and pulling on his training singlet.
“I’m just saying, you don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine. Are we doing this or what?”
Owen saw the slight hurt in Fiona’s face. Shit. A feeling of guilt crept into his system, but he turned and walked out of the locker room. He hadn’t told her what Tegan had asked him to do. He just had to get away from the hospital.
Weights and bags. Hard work and sweat. Where he could punish his body. Where things made sense. Fiona was already here, working, as ever, on her notes and studying tapes of both his and Diaz’ fights over the past year. She had done so much without being asked, but he hadn’t thought to ask her how things were going. He hadn’t cared.
He had just wanted to hit something. He’d moved past her without a word, and she had followed him into the locker room after a few minutes, obviously concerned by his silence or body language. He hadn’t felt it was right to inform her of what Tegan asked. That should be up to Tegan, but it hadn’t hurt Owen any less.
Now he moved towards the
heavy bag and unloaded on it again and again. As his father always used to say, when Owen was a young boy sitting on his lap, and Robert would describe his fights, he hit it with so many lefts, it was begging for the right.
“Gaz,” Fiona started, but Owen ignored her. Gritting his teeth against his mouthguard, he didn’t let up his fury. “Gaz, we need to go over strategy.”
“Tomorrow,” he grumbled, twisting his hips, striking with knees.
“Gaz. Stop!”
He turned on her and ripped his mouthguard out just as Robert came into the room sporting training pads, looking up at the two of them in surprise. “You and dad want me to train, right? No distractions? Work hard. Well. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Gaz... What is wrong?”
“Would you stop! I’m not supposed to bring outside shit into training. I need to focus, right? That’s all I’m trying to do. Can you please just help me, and let it go?”
“Focus? That’s a laugh. You haven’t been focused for months,” Robert spat. “Don’t forget she’s the only reason you even have a shot at the title.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Owen said as Robert joined Fiona. “I’m just doing what you always told me. Burying it.”
“Do you think this is a game? That we’re all playing with you? You’ve never shown fear before, but now is the time to start. I can only say the same thing so many times. You call it walking away. I call it not wanting to bury my boy,” Robert shook his head and looked at the ground.
“You keep saying the same thing, but there’s obviously more. What is it?”
“I know about the press in the carpark. It’s not a coincidence, son. You’ve been seen at the hospital. People are talking. It was only a matter of time before those cunts found out. He wants the media to hound you and Tegan. He wants you as weak and vulnerable as possible for the fight. You’re heading straight into it, Owen. Right into his hands. Him. His manager. They’ve got you right where they want you,” Robert said, removing his gloves. “You might not care, but I do. I can stand to see you lose. If you give me your best and fail, I’ll still be proud. This isn’t your best. You’re nowhere near the right headspace for a fight three months out. Let alone two weeks. Especially, not against him. You’re emotional, irrational, and you’re going to get seriously hurt. I can’t stand for this, Owen, I’m sorry.”
Owen watched as Robert walked away. Fiona gave Owen a disappointed glance before following him out.
Chapter Seventeen
Through dry and cringing eyes, Tegan saw the time. Past two in the morning. That was why Owen wasn’t there. She had cried into the night, and besides the cleaners that came in to clear her sheets and mop the floor, she was alone. Rain pelted against the window, picking up speed as it sounded like a bigger storm approaching.
Though the tears eventually stopped, the sorrow didn’t. She had tried to be strong. She had tried to will herself to keep going, but she couldn’t take any more. She wanted to survive, but maybe her body didn’t. Maybe it was her time. No one knew how long they had on this earth. Going through it all again would just prolong her pain. She didn’t want to have her insides hacked again just so she could get out of this hospital incomplete. Butchered. That’s what it felt like.
She was roused as the chair beside her bed gave a slight groan from being pulled out. She gave her neck a crane to see her guest, Olivia.
“Wha—”
Olivia held up a finger to her lips. “I’m still here for observation a couple of times a month. They want to make sure I’m not suicidal anymore, I guess.” She shrugged. “I dunno. But you and I aren’t on the same floor,” she whispered. “I’ll get into trouble if they catch me.”
“I don’t feel like chatting.”
“Good. I’ll do all the talking. I’m here to help you.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Liv. Can you please let me get some sleep?”
“Sure, after I say what I’ve gotta say,” she replied, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a chain and kept it in her fist as thunder rolled overhead loudly, yet not drowning out the downpour. “You have to get better.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do?”
“I know you’ve been trying, hun. You’ve just been enlisting the wrong help. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, but Owen didn’t think I should.”
“Why were you talking about me?”
“Duh. We chat all the time about you.”
“Why?”
Olivia shrugged, frowning as if the answer was obvious. “You’re his everything. You get your results tomorrow, so now is the perfect time.”
Tegan had no response to that, no matter how wonderful it felt to hear. Instead, she told the harsh truth that remained in her heart. Her biggest fear. “I’m dying.”
Olivia made a noise like Tegan had uttered an interesting tidbit about ancient history that she already knew. “Well, if you think about it, we all are. Just depends on how long it takes for us to get there. Unless we meet saviours along the way.”
A thunderclap made it hard for Tegan to hear that last part, but she got the gist of it. Though it still made zero sense. “What are you talking about?” Then, Tegan remembered Owen telling her the story. On the night she was attacked, Olivia, in her drunken or drug-addled state, swore she was saved by a woman in armour. “Liv...” Tegan stopped short of telling her how stupid the idea was. “Saviours are in short supply. I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Only people that haven’t been saved don’t believe. Luckily, for you, I have been. There are those that watch over us.”
Olivia held up the chain in her hand and let it drop a few inches. Tegan had to admit the gleaming red ‘V’ was beautiful as a flash of lightning lit up the room briefly. She thought so the first time she saw it. When she and Owen had first made love. It held a certain grace and charm she had never seen before in an item of jewellery.
“Liv...it’s beautiful, but...”
“It’s more than that. It’s hope. You just have to believe,” she said, holding it out.
Her words cut through Tegan. “Believe? Believe in what?” she stammered as more tears came, born of frustration and fear. “I’ve been through hell! And nothing is getting better. I’m so sick of feeling this way. I’m just so tired. I’m fed up with everything. I try to be positive, but there’s only so much someone can take. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“Tegan,” she replied gently. “Please, just touch it. It doesn’t matter if you believe what I do. Ask it for something that you want. Visualise something that makes you happy. It can be anything. What have you got to lose?”
Tegan slowly wiped at her face. The truth was in her answer. “Nothing. Not anymore.”
Tegan held out her hand and gripped the pendant as the rain appeared to settle even though thunder and lightning still cracked the sky. Who was she even saying this to, a mystical force? The results were known; she just hadn’t heard them. Tegan knew there was no way the results would change, no matter how adamant Olivia was that this was important, but Tegan still said the only wish she held in her heart. “Please, let me be OK. I don’t wanna die.”
Olivia gave her a small smile and lowered her head, her own hand keeping Tegan’s in place. Tegan shook again with more emotion, not at the absurdity of it, but at how badly she wanted it to work in spite of it. Wanted this little pendant, so warm in her hand, to be the saviour Olivia mentioned. All would be revealed tomorrow. Had the doctors been successful? Would someone watching over her, hell even if it was a woman in armour, save her?
Chapter Eighteen
Tegan woke to find Olivia had gone. She wasn’t as surprised to see Robert at the foot of her bed as she was to see Fiona with him, not Owen.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“We need to talk to you, babe, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Is it Owen?”
“Yes,” Robert said. “You’re the only one he’ll listen to. We need
you to talk him out of this fight.”
Robert calmly told her about the situation with Owen. The fact he wasn’t training—or wasn’t training right. Diaz. His manager. The press in the carpark. The delayed results. Someone that wanted Owen out of the fight game had pulled a dirty trick. All of this was smelling of a setup, and Owen was walking straight into it.
“So, you see, we need your help.”
Tegan looked at Fiona, who seemed more forlorn than Tegan could ever remember. “What do you say?”
“You know I love fighting, but this is suicide,” Fiona said. “We can’t go to the papers as there’s no proof anything underhanded has happened. No one will believe us.”
“Unless a miracle happens and someone rolls over on these people, snitches on them, we haven’t got a hope of nailing him,” Robert said.
“You want me to tell him to stop? To quit?” Tegan asked.
“You’re the only one he’ll listen to. We want you to help us save him. If he goes in like this, he’ll be killed. He’s not ready.”
“Excuse me,” came a voice from the doorway. A doctor came in carrying a folder. “Tegan? I have your results here.”
Tegan leant back into her pillow, looking left to right at all the faces in the room, thinking of all the things she could say or do. In the end, she uttered the only thing that felt completely right, as Fiona nestled herself beside her and held her hand, “I’m ready.”
* * *
Tegan led the way into the gym, flanked by the others. It was dark and deliberately so. The only light was a small speck of sunlight streaking through the window onto the main floor. Owen sat with his back to the wall, his leg caught in the ray.
“Owen,” she whispered.
He leant forward. “Are you OK?”
Tegan walked forward and sat down opposite him, cross-legged. “Forget about me,” she replied softly. “What’s going on?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know,” he said, indicating the others standing behind her. “I just... I don’t know if I want this anymore.”
“Is that the truth? Or are you just hurt by what I asked you to do?” His silence told her all she needed to know. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but I thought you understood.”
Undisputed (The Undisputed Series Book 1) Page 15