by TC Matson
I hear him cussing.
And then it’s all black.
“Levi!” I hear someone scream in horror and it brings me back into the outskirts of reality.
My eyes open to angry green eyes glaring at me. My heart skips. “You stupid bitch. You should’ve stayed still.”
I don’t see the next punch he takes. In a split second, I feel pain shattering across my face, but then I’m dropped back into the darkness. So much pain numbs my body.
There’s a scuffling noise in the room. Something kicks my feet. Soft hands travel my face. I don’t feel alive. My body feels heavy, painfully numb.
“Go get Ryker,” a male voice barks. “He’s not out there yet. Go fucking get him. And grab security.”
“Whitney?” The voice is sweet.
It’s tender.
It’s scared.
It’s the last thing I hear before coldness settles into my bones and I fall into a void.
Chapter 10
My muscles pulse to the adrenaline streaming through my fucking veins. I bounce my head from shoulder to shoulder and shake out my hands while jumping on the balls of my feet as I wait. Parsons is walking his entry. The crowd is lit the fuck up. I listen as his fans scream for him. My fans boo him.
I roll my head forward, slamming my gloves together.
I’m so fucking ready to demolish this motherfucker and sign that fucking contract. Nice or not, business is business. He stands between me and my goal and I’m about to bulldoze his ass out of the fucking way.
I pull my shoulders back, stretching my shoulders.
“Ryker!” I hear a voice behind me.
The urgency has me seeking it out. Adam, Levi’s right hand man, sprints toward us.
“Your girl, she needs you.” He’s out of breath.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Whatever fucking game you’re playing, I’m—”
“I’m dead fucking serious,” he says deathly somber.
My heart jackhammers behind my eyes. Blackness threatens the edge of my vision. With both fists, I snatch him by his shirt. “Nice fucking try. She’s with my brother.”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “Ryker, I’m not fucking around. She’s hurt. Some guy roughed her up.”
I drop him as my breath gets caught in my throat. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Bathroom on the fighter’s hall,” he says, jerking his head that way.
I start but am stopped as an officiant grabs my arm. “Sir, you can’t leave. You’re up next. You’ll forfeit if you don’t walk out that entrance.” He nods toward the dimly lit hall.
“Forfeit me,” I say without hesitation and take off running behind Adam.
Adam shoves everyone out of the way, bouncing off, and winding around people, but when he turns down the fighter’s hall, his feet stop. Levi’s on top of a man, holding him down by his throat. The guy is busted open, blood pouring from the gashes. His body is limp, spread out with his feet in the bathroom door.
“Ryker!” Paige calls out.
When my eyes lands on the sight before me, my heart drops.
Whitney’s laid out on the floor. Bloody. Her limp hand in Paige’s.
Red.
Crimson red.
Blood red.
The fucking devil’s flame red.
I lurch toward the man underneath Levi. Adam moves quickly, putting himself between us. Levi’s stretching out an arm yelling something, but rage engulfs the noise. Adam stumbles backward and I press forward, ready to wake the motherfucker up and murder him as he watches.
Officers rush in and as two of them are on the guy on the ground, Levi springs toward me. He and three officers are in my face.
I snap my head back to Whitney and am at her side before I know it. My heart is thundering in my chest. Her shirt is torn. Her eye is swollen, already turning a shade of black. Her lip is split open, blood pouring from it.
“Whit,” I rush out, running my hand over her forehead. “Whitney. Wake up, baby.”
But she doesn’t.
Panic strikes my heart. Hesitantly, I check her pulse.
Thank fuck…
Relief almost causes me to collapse.
Paramedics storm into the little bathroom, shouting for us to move. Reluctantly I move away and watch painfully as they begin treating Whitney’s lifeless body.
“Get off me,” I hear a male voice grumble and I move to it. Like my body knows to go.
The man is on his feet. His hands are cuffed behind his back as two cops flank his side. Both his eyes are swollen. His nose is bleeding profusely, blood dripping all over his orange shirt.
He grins at me. “You lost.”
As if they knew before me, Levi and Adam move again, grabbing my shoulders, arms, whatever they can hold on to.
Levi blocks me with his body. “Don’t put yourself in jail. She needs you more.”
I glower at the man as they place him on a stretcher. “I’ll fucking kill you,” I grit. “You look over your shoulder for the rest of your life because I’m going to fucking murder you. Do you hear me, you fucking bastard?” I roar. “You’re fucking dead!”
He’s wheeled out of my sight.
“Get the fuck off me.” I jerk my arms from Adam and Levi and make my way back to Whitney. The paramedics have already gotten her onto a stretcher and placed her in a neck brace.
I grab her hand. “Whit?”
Her right eye peeks open, tears flooding from it, and then it closes again.
I can’t say a word. My throat is tight. I’m enraged. I’m broken. I’m entirely shattered down to my soul.
I tell the paramedics I’m riding with her, and we load her up.
I’m not allowed into her room yet. Instead, they put me in a little ass cage they call a waiting room. I’m pacing—eight steps to the end, eight steps back.
I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.
The squeak of the shitty wooden door snaps my head toward it in hopes of the doctor. Instead, Paige enters with Levi right behind her. Paige’s eyes are full of sorrow, soft and worried.
She’s holding Whitney’s purse, stretching it out to me. “Your coach said you’d want this. Have they said anything?”
I clench my jaw. “They’re running some tests to make sure there isn’t any brain damage. Past that, I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
The room falls silent. I grab my phone from her purse and call Daniel. He and Brian are finishing up things at the arena, and they all will be at the hospital soon. I don’t have much to say, no room for small talk, and I hang up.
I inhale. “What happened?” I ask, keeping my view on the wall before me.
“He…” Paige pauses. “I’m sorry.” Her tone is tender.
I clench my jaw and exhale.
“Do you want some coffee or something?” she asks and I shake my head. “I’ll get you a water.”
She leaves Levi here as she exits. The room is silent again. No words. No vibes. Nothing. Flashes of the motherfucker’s face flicker behind my eyes.
“Thanks for taking care of him,” I gruff.
Levi puffs. “I’m sure I didn’t do as good of a job on him as you would.”
I glance to him. “He’s still alive.”
Levi smirks. “Yeah, but he’ll need some help fixing his face.”
“If he presses charges against you, I’ll pay all your fees,” I offer.
Levi nods.
I move to sit with my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands, raking my fingers across my face. He sits across the room.
“I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did,” I talk involuntarily. “It started as a way to get a rile out of you.” I shake my head and exhale a disappointed chuckle out of my nose. “I deserved it. I deserved to lose that fight.”
He doesn’t say anything.
And thank fuck my mouth stops moving and the room remains mute until it’s interrupted by Paige coming back in. She hands me a bottle of water and I take it, keepin
g my view on the floor.
The next sound that has me glancing up has my blood boiling. Kyce steps through the door, paled with worry. “Is she okay?”
I raise to my full body height, my extra five inches seeming to tower over him. Levi shifts but doesn’t rise.
“Where the fuck were you?” I grit.
Kyce shakes his head.
The devil’s flames begin to warm my body.
“I asked you a question,” I growl.
“I told her to stay where she was. I was just a few seats away. I didn’t see her leave.” He genuinely sounds scared.
“Doing what?” I narrow my eyes.
I watch as shamefulness travels the lines on his face. He doesn’t answer me and looks away.
“You let this happen to her,” I scathe, stepping toward him. Levi’s on his feet, placing just enough of his body between the two of us so I’ll have to move through him to get to Kyce.
“I trusted her with you. To you. I watched you walk away with her. How the fuck could you?”
“I—” He starts but I interrupt him.
“I’ll never fucking forgive you. You better be glad he’s here,” I say pointing to Levi. “Or else you’d be lying in the fucking morgue where you belong. I’ll never forgive you. Get the fuck out of here. You’re not welcome here.”
He blinks to me. I’ve been mad at him before but never to this degree. He doesn’t move.
“You let your dick do the thinking and left Whitney.” I ball my fist at my sides, ready to put him in a room beside her. “Do you know she’s back there being tested for brain damage? Brain damage, Kyce! The son of a bitch…Who the hell knows what happened in there because you weren’t there to protect her. You, Kyce. This is all on you,” I grind out.
Hurt and anger splatter his face. “Ryker, I—”
“Save your breath. I’m done with you. Don’t you ever fucking dare to show your face to me, ever again. It should be you in there, not her.”
I take a step back and drop into my seat, trembling from rage and beckoning the strength to love my parents enough to not put their baby in the ground before them.
“Fuck,” he whispers, exiting the room.
The waiting room is full of large bodies, except for Paige. Levi and her sit side by side, stoic, staring at the same empty space before them. Daniel and Flynn are four chairs away from me. Everyone is quiet.
Brian is apparently having his ass handed to him on my behalf and isn’t able to make it.
I’m alone in the row of chairs on the back wall when a white-haired man, dressed in his white doctor’s coat, appears at the door and clears his throat. “Mr. Hayes.”
It’s all he has to say and I’m following him like a trained puppy.
He takes me to a consultation room just across the hall and shuts the door. “She’s fine. She’ll be fine.”
For the first time, I take a breath. The ground under my feet finally solidifies.
“She is, however, pretty busted up. I’ll start with the worst. She has two broken ribs, but they’re only hairline fractures. Nothing too intense. Her cheek bone is also fractured, but thankfully where it’s located, it’ll heal completely on its own without any reconstructive surgery to fix it. She’s black and blue. Pretty bruised up. We went ahead and stitched up her bottom lip. It was a nasty laceration, but that too, will heal up just fine. I’m sure in your profession you understand bruising and how to help with it. She’ll need an extra hand for a little while.”
I’m rendered mad and speechless, so I nod my understanding.
“You’re free to see her now. She’s sleeping.” He offers a small smile. “We’ve given her something for her pain. She’ll be fine, Mr. Hayes,” he reassures me again.
I don’t stop by the waiting room as I pass by it. I’m tunnel-visioned for her room. Every step I make toward the door, my heart beats faster as uncertainty settles in my blood. Taking a deep breath, I step in quietly and make my way beside her bed.
I’m not prepared for the sight.
I’ve pummeled men half my life. Busted them up, blackened their eyes. Caused them stitches, and left them with faces so swollen, their own mothers would have a hard time recognizing them. But they’re in this sport. They understand the repercussions, just as I do. We realize the risks. We know that at any given fight, we may walk out beaten half to death, even if we’ve won. My sport is primal. My sport is barbaric. MMA’s purpose is to inflict pain onto others.
That’s our job. Our sport. Men fighting men.
Whitney isn’t supposed to look like she just entered the ring with one of us. She isn’t supposed to be lying on this bed with IV drip lines snaking her arms. Her face is stained with black bruises. Ugly shades of purple stretch across her swollen face. Her gorgeous lips, swollen with blue stitching holding the bottom flesh together. Stitches thread above her left eyebrow. Her left eye…
“Fuck, Whit…” My sigh scratches out of my throat and I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I drop in the chair beside her bed. I’m scared to touch her, not sure what hurts or what will hurt. Taking the chance and needing to comfort her, I place my hand so gently on top of hers, I don’t know if she knows it’s there. Her skin is cool to the touch, limp and without life as she sleeps.
She stirs slightly, her hand moves, and she grips my forefinger.
A faint groan exits her throat and she rolls her head to me. “Hey.” Her voice sounds so tired.
I swallow and let a smile rest on my lips. “Hey.”
“Did you win?” she asks.
I blink before stifling a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t worry about that.”
“You look untouched, so I’m assuming yes.” The corner of her mouth pulls up slightly.
“I’m sorry, Whit. I’m so fucking sorry,” I gush out. My throat is on fire. My eyes stinging as they fight back the tears forming.
She moves her finger over mine. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve stayed in my seat.”
I shake my head.
“He really wanted you to lose,” she says quietly.
I nod. “I know.”
“I tried to do what you taught me although I don’t think I did it right.” She rasps out a little giggle, but it fades away and her voice breaks. “I tried. I tried really hard to get away from him. I kept hearing you tell me things to do,” she cries softly. “I couldn’t—”
“Whitney, stop.” I raise above her. Tears stream from the corners of her eyes, down the sides of her head, and it hurts my heart. Gently, I kiss her chin and then wipe the tears with my thumbs. “All that matters is you’re okay.”
“Someone came in,” she says, still crying.
“It was Paige. Levi was right behind her,” I inform her.
She looks to the ceiling, closes her eyes, and weeps. My throat tightens and I inhale deeply, smoothing her hair and trying to comfort her. But truthfully, I’m a ticking time bomb. I’m desperately trying not to lose my shit.
I feel so helpless. So depleted.
“I’m sorry,” she cries and gasps, groaning in pain.
I kiss her chin again. “Whitney, you have to stop crying. You’re gonna have me bawling like a big baby,” I tell her, meaning every word I say.
Thank god, it does just as I half intended—she sucks in a giggle.
There’s a light tap on the door. Paige and Levi stand in the threshold.
“You have company,” I tell her, quietly. “Do you want visitors?”
She doesn’t look in their direction, but latches on to my eyes. I smile at her. “I’m not sure I can tell them to leave. I might have my ass handed to me if I do. They’ve been pretty adamant about seeing you.”
She blinks and smiles. With a nod of my head, I tell them it’s okay to come in.
Levi stands at the foot of her bed, his jaw ticking and his hands in his pockets while Paige takes post on the other side of the bed. Whitney looks between Levi and me, and then to Paige.
Paige gives her a warm s
mile. “They’re playing nice,” she reassures her.
I sit there listening as Whitney asks questions and Paige answers them in a guarded way, like a mother would to protect a child from knowing the whole, angry truth. I’m fighting off the urge to hunt the bastard down in this hospital and murder him before going homicidal on Kyce.
But the subject changes and they talk, not about what happened, but girl stuff. And in this very moment, I’ve never been more grateful for Paige. She saved my bride-to-be’s life and now she’s saving mine.
Not much longer after the girl chat, they decide to leave and let her rest. And not without Paige making me put her number in Whitney’s phone. That fucking felt weird as fuck.
Levi didn’t say much, other than he hopes she feels better and was happy they came when they did to help her.
After they left, Daniel and Flynn popped in for just a few minutes and wished Whitney a speedy recovery.
Not long after that, Whitney fell asleep. I watch her sleep for most of the night from the chair beside her bed. Bursts of emotions take their turns coursing through me.
Angry for not being there, for the son of a bitch putting his hands on her, and for my brother not protecting her.
Relieved nothing worse came from the bastard’s hands.
Terror knowing that last night she could’ve been stripped from my life.
Hurt because she’s going through this because of me.
Hurt because she’s hurt.
I realize I walked away from my ambitions, and a sense of loss settles in my thoughts. That was my last shot. That was it. The end of the road.
But she’s alive and I’ll be able to figure out what to do with her beside me.
Brian texted me around one thirty in the morning and confirmed—I’m done.
I feel selfish for putting an ounce of thought into it when the woman I’m going to marry is lying in the bed beaten half to death because of me.
I kiss the back of her hand and shift forward, resting my head on the side of the bed, unable to let go of her fingers.
Chapter 11
I hurt. My skin hurts. My bones hurt. Even my hair hurts. It’s painful to blink, to swallow, to smile. And it’s hard not to smile at Ryker. He looks so out of sorts trying to make sure I’m as comfortable as possible while in this hospital bed. It’s hard, definitely not as soft as our king-sized bed back home. And certainly not as comfortable without him in it. I miss having his hard body behind me. Instead, he’s in a hard chair beside me.