by Kacey Shea
She blinks once and I can tell she’s trying to be patient with me. “Alexander, yes. We speak on occasion . . . and hook up every blue moon, too.”
“Good. You’ve got leverage, then!” My heart pounds so loudly in my chest that I’m surprised it doesn’t jump right out.
“Why do you look as if you’re about to propose an evil plan, and why do I get the feeling I’m about to agree to it?” Her worries add creases to her frown, but this is Rae and if anyone will be able to make this happen, it’s her.
“He has that private jet, right?”
She nods and shrugs. “Well, it’s a shared service, but yeah.”
I grab her hands in mine. “Can he take us somewhere? Tonight?”
“Where . . .” she asks, her voice trailing as my gaze drifts back to the television screen. “Ah, right. So, you want to take an impromptu girls trip. To Vegas? Tonight?”
“It’s crazy, right? And probably not even possible.” I shove my hands through my hair and bite the inside of my cheek. It is crazy. I’m acting crazy. What’s worse is I don’t even care.
Rae pulls her phone out and taps the screen a few times before holding it to her ear. “Alexander.” She pauses and giggles before pinning me with a look that says I owe her my end of year bonus. I nod for her to pull the trigger. “Listen, Alexander, I’m actually calling for a favor. How likely is it for you to get me and my friend to Las Vegas before morning?” She nods and throws in a few uh-huhs before finally ending the call. Her face is drawn with what I surmise is defeat and my own disappointment seeps into my thoughts. It was an outrageous plan to begin with.
“Hey, you tried, and I love you for that,” I say and it’s then her lips lift.
“I hope you don’t mind borrowing clothes because a town car will be downstairs in twenty and we’re headed straight to the tarmac.” Her grin takes over her entire face.
“You’re kidding!” I almost shout.
“I am not! And you better not back down now because I’m probably gonna have to fuck him for the favor.” She rolls her eyes.
“I thought you said you already did that with him.”
“Meh, I was a free agent for tonight, but now . . .”
“No such thing as a free ride.” I’m almost bouncing on the balls of my toes and I don’t do giddy. At least not until now. Must be the nerves. Anticipation. The thrill of seeking out Matt and telling him I understand. That I love him, too. “Shit! We need to pack!” I grab Rae’s hand and drag her toward her bedroom.
“Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” She laughs and shakes her head as we rush inside her closet. She watches me with further suspicion as I shuffle through her collection of dresses and evening wear.
“I’m no good at this!” My shoulders slump as I ask her for one more favor. “I need to get him back, Rae. I need an outfit like that. Work your fairy godmother magic?”
Her grin pulls wide, “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Matt
Tonight’s the night. Just another fight for many, but this is the first time Xavier Johnson competes in a UFC octagon, and my first time as a UFC coach. New Year’s Eve in Vegas, no less! To say he’s nervous and anxious is an understatement. Since we arrived last week the kid hasn’t smiled once, and it has nothing to do with his mom’s recovery. She’s here with him, doing well and enjoying a short break in her treatment to come watch her son realize his dream.
“Xavier.” I step into the locker room where he’s been waiting since we warmed up earlier. Headphones on and lying on his back in the center of the table—it’s a strange routine but fighters are superstitious so I don’t question it.
He lifts his head and pulls off his headphones as I approach.
“You ready?” I ask.
His eyes, normally so guarded and focused, widen with alarm and before I can ask what’s wrong, Xavier’s off the table and racing toward the trash can. He pukes his last meal and I pray to God it’s only nerves and not a violent case of the flu. He stops heaving, spits the remaining fluid from his mouth, and wipes the back of his arm over his mouth as he straightens his spine.
“You good now?” I step forward.
His gaze meets mine for a moment before it drops to the floor. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t want to let you down.”
“Never. I’m so damn proud of you. You know that?” It’s enough to earn back his attention. “And you don’t do this for me. Not even for your mom. You do this for you, Xavier. Because you’re the one who’s earned a place here. You’ve fought to be in this very room. This is yours. You go in there and you give ’em hell.”
He nods and blows out a breath. “Thanks, Coach.”
“You ready now?” I nod to the door. They’re waiting for us. It’s time.
Gloves on his hands, he slaps them together and bounces on his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Xavier does well. From the moment we step into the arena, he’s all business. All those nerves from before are purged into the trash can along with his last meal. He goes all three rounds, each fighter taking some tough hits to the head and body, but in the end Xavier emerges victorious. A win based on the judges’ points.
It’s a great beginning to what I hope will be a long career for him. He deserves the triumph and I’ll coach him both in and out of the gym on how to handle his sudden success. It’s a lot to take, going from no one to someone in less than fifteen minutes.
Since Xavier’s new, they schedule him as one of the first to compete, and afterwards we join his mom in the arena to watch the rest of the show. Danny and Nikki are here too, but their seats are further up. We make plans to all celebrate together with a late dinner, and for the first time in two months I don’t spend my entire night wishing Mia were here. It’s not that I don’t want her by my side, because I do. It’s more that I’m resolving myself to the fact she’s gone for good. Maybe this is me finally moving on.
After the final match-up on tonight’s card—a brutal bloodbath that sent one guy to the hospital—I turn to Xavier and Chantel.
“What’s the plan, Coach? We still on for dinner?” Xavier says.
“Yeah, we have reservations.” I made them before we left this morning. The restaurant’s in our hotel, so afterwards it’s a simple trip upstairs to crash before catching our flight home. “You ready to head out?”
“Hell, yeah. I’m starving. You hungry, Mom?” he asks. I have to give him credit for not getting caught up in the hype. There’s a big group of tonight’s fighters going out to party and drink, but Xavier’s more concerned about his mother. A young man wise beyond his years.
“Let’s go try and catch a cab.” I take the lead on getting us out of here. The place is packed and we get stopped several times for autographs and photos. By the time we make it outside, wait for a cab, and head to the hotel, it’s already past midnight. A new year.
My phone buzzes with a few incoming texts and I glance down to see my brother asking for an ETA. I reply and let him know we’re only a few minutes out, and he responds with the request to meet him by the elevator banks at the south end of our hotel. That’s strange. I hope everything’s okay or Nikki’s not trying to bail, but before I can ask he sends a message saying our table is ready and they’ve already ordered appetizers. Thank God because I’m starving.
Our cab pulls to the curb and I help Chantel out of the car.
“He did good.” She smiles with so much pride, and it makes me miss my mom.
I nod. “He did good, Chantel. He did good.”
Xavier comes over and takes his mom’s arm to help her inside. She’s doing great but her energy is still low. He’s a good son, attentive and aware.
“I’ll meet you inside,” I say. “I’ve got to grab something first.” Maybe I’m reading into things but Danny’s message seemed out of the ordinary. I wind through the crowded casino floor, in a hurry to see what he needs, but as I come upon the bank of elevators I stop short
. Blinking my eyes, I can’t quite believe who I’m seeing. “Mia, what are you . . .”
She steps forward, meeting me where I stand. Her hair is down and the red curls tease the open V of her dress. A dress I’m sure is illegal in several countries. It hugs all her beautiful curves in shiny red fabric. Her lips, painted in that same deep red, part on a sigh before they force a grin. “I’m here to collect on my bet. We still have that one date.” Her gaze is guarded, maybe as much as mine.
She’s here in the flesh but I just can’t do this again. I can’t go through this game and lose. My heart can’t take the beat down. “Mia, don’t . . . I can’t.”
“Why not?” she snaps and her brows rise, awaiting my answer.
I could lie, but I won’t. Besides, she wants the truth. “Because I’m not interested in one date. I don’t want to trade training for web design. I don’t want a fake girlfriend. What I want, you aren’t willing to give.”
She nods once. “I’ve changed my mind.”
The way she’s looking at me, as if it’s really that easy, has me questioning her even more. “Have you? Have you really? Because I can’t do this again. My heart can’t take the fight. It wants you. Only you. If yours isn’t up for the ride, then it’s better to walk away now. While we still can.”
“Trust me.” She takes two steps closer, invading my personal space. She has to crane her neck to meet my gaze, but she does so anyway. Winding her fingers through mine, she squeezes my hands. “You asked me to trust you, remember? Now I’m doing the same. I’m sorry, Matt. I made the wrong choice. I let my past cloud my future with you and I let my pride get involved instead of listening to my heart. And I didn’t even know how that felt until you. Until you proved my capacity to feel deeply is in perfect working order. That I don’t have to change for anyone. But I made a big mistake.”
I wait patiently as she gathers her thoughts. Her lips mash together and as they part I wish I could claim them for a kiss. I miss her so damn much, but I need to know she’s certain, that she’s really choosing us before I make myself vulnerable again.
Her jaw clenches and her eyes shine as though she’s about to cry. “In college I was in an abusive and manipulative relationship.”
It’s not at all what I expect her to say and the reality staggers. That someone hurt her materializes the need to both protect her and beat the shit out of that asshole. That she’s been hurt awakens a whole new level of understanding. I thought she ran because she couldn’t handle me at my worst. But given this new insight, I hate that my rash behavior triggered her painful past.
“Oh, Mia.” I can’t handle the space between us anymore. Pulling her into my arms, I lay a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” We stay together like this for a long moment, her arms at my waist and mine circling her shoulders.
She pulls back out of my reach and I let her. “Before you, I thought compromising equaled suffocation. That doing the things you love would take away from the things I love. Take away who I am. But that’s not true at all. You never asked me to change for you. You loved me for who I am.”
I nod because I never stopped. “I do, Mia.”
“I got scared, Matt, and I pushed you away. That’s what I do, but only because if I do the leaving then I can’t get hurt. I can protect my heart.”
My body sinks with the realization that I’ve hurt her, too. “I never meant to hurt you, Mia.”
Her smile is weak. “I get it, Matt. I really do. That’s why I came. Why I’m here. I know everything. About your past. With your dad and your mom too.”
I shake my head. Thinking about my fucked up childhood includes everything I try to leave behind. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. Is that why you’re h—”
“No. I came because I needed to tell you this in person. Tonight.” This time as she comes close it’s with no hesitation or fear. Her fingers slide up the front of my shirt and around the back of my neck. “I will fight for you, Matt Haywood. I will fight for us. I love you.”
“Mia.” Her name leaves my mouth, the word full of so much doubt. So much fear. She says I love you, but is it too much to hope? I have everything I’ve ever wanted, but to have Mia in my life too? It doesn’t seem possible.
She reaches up on her toes and kisses me hard. Her mouth works against mine until I join in and kiss her back. I’m like a junkie who hasn’t had his fix, because that one kiss eradicates the two months I’ve worked to forget her and heal my heart. She pulls away, her breathing heavy like mine.
“I know it’s hard work Matt, and I’m not easy to love, but I want to give us a try. Not a bet. Not a test. I want to make this work. I’m ready to fight . . . if you’ll show me how.” She whispers the last words and peppers kisses along the side of my neck.
My body’s vote is all for Mia, and my hands find their way to her hips. “I am a pretty damn good teacher.” I kiss her once, twice.
“The best,” she murmurs against my lips with a smile.
“Honestly, Mia, I have no clue what I’m doing. But I trust you. I want a life with you. I’m all in.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mia
Two months later
“Come on, Matt. We’ve got to go,” I call into the bedroom and check my hair and makeup for about the thousandth time. I haven’t been this nervous about my appearance since my first Comic-Con, only today I’m not painted as my favorite character. Today I’m just me.
“This okay?” He steps into the doorway and I lift my gaze over my shoulder. Fuck me. It doesn’t matter how many times I see this man or that we practically live together with the number of sleepovers we have. I still can’t believe he’s all mine.
“You clean up nice.” I turn and try not to laugh at the way he tugs at the collar of his dress shirt.
“I feel like a goddamn monkey. Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” He blows out a breath, his nerves and frustration apparent.
I reach up to pull his hands away so I can fix his collar and unbutton the top button. “Because you’re going to help so many families and you’re ridiculously generous. It’s one of the things I don’t hate about you,” I say to earn his laughter.
His smirk pulls his lips wide. “For the record I don’t hate this on you.” He reaches out to skim his fingertips down the front of my fitted sweater to the sides of my pencil skirt where they rest and rub circles against my hips. He’s really good at sparking my desire with his mostly innocent touches. My body thrums with the need to have him now.
“None of that.” I grab his hands and pull them from my waist. “You’re not getting out of the interview. Not even with that.”
Busted. He forces a pout through his smirk. “I can’t get anything past you.” He steps around me to run his hands through his hair and over the short scruff of his beard. “You sure I shouldn’t shave?”
His hair is growing back slowly. I miss the longer locks, but they’re finally where I can run my fingers through them. His beard is a different story. It’s well on its way to the length it was when we first met.
“Don’t you dare. I love the way you look.” I shake my head and his eyes heat with promise. I reach out and he threads our fingers together. “Don’t change. Not for anyone.”
“Not even ESPN? Because they’re a pretty big deal.” His brow rises with his smirk.
“Even for them. But speaking of them, we better go. They’re meeting us at the gym at nine.” Matt didn’t want to accept the tell-all personal interview when reps from both the UFC and ESPN first approached him last month. He’s private with his life, which I appreciate. But after Xavier’s breakthrough into the UFC and Matt’s return as a coach, people were itching for his story. I understand. He’s a fascinating man.
After considering the lives he’d be able to change and the size audience he’d have the ability to reach, he started to sway. After I came up with the idea to pair the special with a fundraiser at the gym and include virtual participation through
his website, Matt decided baring his hard truths was worth sharing. I’m nervous for him, but he’s the strongest man I know, both physically and emotionally. He can do this.
We arrive at South Side to a flurry of activity. Even after canceling today’s classes for the taping, there are a good number of fighters and trainers here to show their support. Danny, Xavier, Chantel, Mason, and Ricky each take their turn in the hot seat and answer questions about their brother, coach, and friend.
Matt’s up next and I stand off to the side so I can nod encouragement to him if he gets stuck. Besides telling me after we officially got together in Vegas, there’s no one here who knows his entire past. The reporter goes through a few easy questions designed to draw forth Matt’s lighthearted charisma. He’s doing great, but we both know what’s coming.
It still doesn’t pack less of a punch.
“You must know there’s a lot of speculation regarding your childhood. So close to your mom until she passed away; estranged from your father. You’ve never spoken about this before, but you’ve agreed to now. Tell us what it was like growing up in your house.”
Matt nods, his face holding back much of the pain. “When Pop wasn’t around? There was laughter. Love. Never enough food. Clothes from the thrift store or handed down by neighbors. Mom never finished high school. She worked retail jobs and picked up anything else to get us by. Our apartment was shit—sorry, can I say that?”
“You can say shit.”
“It wasn’t much, but it was home.”
“Was your father around much?”
“More than I ever wanted. As a kid, I dreaded the weeks he came home. Sometimes it was only for a night, other times weeks. With him, my mother changed. She didn’t smile. She didn’t laugh. Everything she did was wrong and he let her know all about it. First with the insults. The yelling. Then a smack here. A shove there. I’d have to go to my room, but I heard it all. Do you understand what it’s like to listen to your own father rape your mother after beating her within an inch of her life?”