Takedown (A Fighting Love novel Book 3)

by Nikki Ash

  “She doesn’t want me?” I ask, cutting her off.

  “No, no, sweetie. It’s not that. She just doesn’t feel she can take care of you.” Take care of me…in other words, once again, I’m a fucking burden. I’m an extra mouth to feed, an extra body to clothe. I nod in understanding then excuse myself to get ready for school.

  Six months later, I graduate, and two days after that, I’m standing on the doorstep of Cooper’s Fight Gym vowing that one day I’ll be able to provide for my mom and me. I will find her and take care of her, and I will make her happy again. And when that day comes, she will no longer consider me to be a burden.

  Prologue

  Mila

  Five years ago

  One of the main reasons why I love working on the maternity floor is because I get to see so many precious babies being brought into this world. While the ER keeps me busy and the surgical unit is interesting, my favorite rotation is maternity. I was extremely lucky that when I graduated there was an opening at this hospital. The truth is with money being so tight these last couple of years, I would’ve had to accept any job that was offered to me. But getting to work with pregnant women and their babies is truly my passion, and I love that I get to do that several times a week. Especially since it feels like I’m at work more than I’m at home these days. With my husband, Gavin, opening up his own real estate agency, we can use every dime we can get. He assures me it will be worth it one day, but right now we’re struggling, and not just moneywise, but also with our marriage.

  My phone dings, and when I pull the text message up, I see a picture of my adorable three-year-old son, Aleczander. His face is covered in spaghetti sauce, and he’s smiling wide. I’m coming off a double shift and missing him like crazy. Seeing his beautiful face is exactly what I needed right now. Noticing the text is from Gavin’s mom, Vicki, I call her, wondering why she has my son instead of his father.

  “Did Gavin have an emergency?”

  “No, dear. He’s working late tonight so I offered to pick up Alec from daycare.”

  “Okay, thank you. I should be off in a few hours. I can come by and—”

  Vicky cuts me off. “Just pick him up in the morning. He’ll probably be asleep by the time you get off anyway.”

  “All right, thank you again.” I hang up and call Gavin’s number, but he doesn’t answer. I try once more but still nothing.

  I put my phone into my pocket and head to check on my patients. When I get to room 2C, I walk in quietly so I won’t disturb the father or baby if they’re finally getting some rest. I commend him for stepping up. I know it should be a given that a man takes responsibility for his child, but that’s not always the case. In this particular situation, the mom gave birth and took off on her baby. Like left! She went outside for a cigarette and never returned. I’ve heard bits and pieces, and it seems she took off with her boyfriend who isn’t the father of the precious little girl. The father of the baby took complete responsibility and is in the process of filing for emergency custody.

  I’ve been on shift since the little girl was born, so I’ve gotten to know the father a bit. His name is Tristan, and so far he’s been dealing with this all alone.

  I notice for the first time that Tristan isn’t alone. He’s sitting at the table with another guy who is holding the baby. I catch the tail end of what the guy is saying. Something about naming Tristan’s daughter, Trina.

  Without interrupting them, I walk over to check on her and see that she’s sleeping soundly in the man’s arms.

  I’m about to let Tristan know I need to take her temperature and vitals when Tristan says, “And where did you come up with that name, Mason?” I stop to wait for Mason to answer so I don’t interrupt their conversation.

  Mason replies, “She gave me the best goddamn road head of my life,” and I about choke.

  Tristan responds with, “Jesus, Mason! I’m not naming my daughter after one of your conquests. Think of a name of a woman you haven’t slept with.” Before Mason can answer, I clear my throat to let them know I’m in the room.

  Tristan smiles at me but the other guy ignores me as I go about my business: cleaning up the room, changing the bassinet sheets, and then taking the baby’s temperature while she’s still in Mason’s arms. While I’m checking her out, this Mason guy continues to spit out name after name of women he’s slept with. My god! Can you say manwhore?

  When I’m done writing down the notes for the baby, I pick up some more of the area to help Tristan out. I notice she’s beginning to get cranky so I go about making her a bottle. When I hand it to Mason, he looks up at me for the first time. The man is gorgeous. Ink black hair, short on the sides and messy on the top. His eyes lock with mine and he has the most beautiful crystal clear blue eyes. They are electrifying and mesmerizing. He smiles, and I almost stumble back at how enraptured I am by him.

  Quickly, I regain my composure as Tristan asks Mason about my name. “Have you ever slept with a Mila?”

  “Not yet,” Mason says to Tristan while his spellbinding eyes stay trained on me. Starting from my face and slowly dragging those baby blues down my body, I feel like I’m being undressed right here.

  “And you won’t ever,” I snap, feeling like a horrible person for being turned on right now. I’m married, and this man is a damn whore. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Perfect! I’ll name her Mila!”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mason warns as he continues to eye-fuck me. “I can promise you, one day she will most definitely be under me.”

  My eyes widen in shock. I’ve never been spoken to like this before, yet he’s not even speaking to me. He’s speaking about me like I’m not even in the damn room. “And I can promise you, I will never be under him.” I don’t know who I’m more annoyed with: Mason, for turning me on with only a look and a few words, or myself, for being turned on.

  “Just to be on the safe side,” Tristan says, “Do you have a middle name?”

  Reluctantly, I break the stare down between Mason and me. “Yes, but I am telling you, your friend here”—I glare at Mason, pissed off that he has my heart pumping and my panties wet—“is never going to sleep with me.”

  “Who said anything about sleeping?” Mason scoffs, and I groan. Of course he would say something like that. It’s obvious from the mere five minutes I’ve spent with him that he’s all about sex, and sleeping isn’t sex.

  “You’re safe naming your daughter Mila. Although, it might be awkward to name her after the woman who murdered your friend.” That might be the only way to get his magnetic blue eyes out of my head.

  “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m just thinking it would be better to be on the safe side,” Tristan insists.

  Mason nods in agreement as he lifts the baby up to burp her, and my mind goes to Gavin and how hands-on he used to be as a father. How he used to be all about our son and me. Sure, Alec was a surprise to both of us, and he’s the reason we got married, but Gavin didn’t make me feel like we were ever a mistake—at least not until recently. Now it’s like we aren’t enough for him. His mother spends more time with our son than Gavin does these days.

  I shake myself out of my thoughts. Things may not be perfect, but he’s still my husband and I love him.

  “Fine! My middle name is Alexandria.”

  Tristan looks at Mason. “Nope! You’re good.”

  “Great! Alexandria it is,” Tristan announces happily, and I shake my head in frustration. I’ve come across plenty of hot guys since I started working at this hospital, and not one of them has ever had this effect on my libido.

  Taking the baby from Mason, I lay Alexandria down in her bassinet. “I’m afraid to ask if you’re giving her a middle name.”

  Tristan thinks for a moment before he says, “You know what, I think Alexandria is long enough to cover both.”

  Mason agrees, and I grab the paperwork for Tristan that he needs to complete. “Now that you have her name, fill these
out so you can bring her home.”

  My shift ends, but I can’t get Mason off my mind. I could be wrong but I’m almost positive the man looked at me like he wanted to devour me. The way his eyes screamed lust and want, and in return the way my traitorous vagina screamed yes, please! It’s been quite a few weeks since Gavin and I have had sex. I think back to the last time… Jeez! I think it’s actually been months instead of weeks. That must be why I’m so turned on. It’s not because of that man and his magnetic blue eyes and devastatingly good looks. It’s just because he actually looked at me.

  I get home and see Gavin’s car out front. We bought our first home last year, here in Los Angeles. After my grandmother passed away, leaving each of her grandchildren a little bit of money, I used what she left me to put a down payment on a home. It’s nothing huge. It’s a three-bedroom, three-bath townhome, with a small porch and no backyard…but it’s ours. It’s only fifteen minutes from the hospital I work at and only a bit farther from Gavin’s office.

  I unlock the door and find that the place is quiet. “Gavin?” I call out. It’s only eight o’clock so I doubt he’s asleep. When I get to our room, he’s awake and playing a game on the computer. I come up behind him and my hands run down his front and over his stomach.

  He grabs my hands, and without even looking at me, says, “Mila, stop. I’m in the middle of a tournament.” His voice full of frustration and annoyance.

  Pushing his rolling chair back, I stand in front of the computer. “I was thinking we could…” I waggle my eyebrows up and down, and he looks at me confused. “Have sex,” I huff out.

  “Okay, just give me a few minutes.” He moves me to the side and continues his game.

  Feeling defeated, I grab an already opened bottle of wine from the fridge and a wineglass, and go out onto the back porch to call my mom. She recently moved from California and is living in Oklahoma with her husband. They lost their jobs when the company they worked for filed for bankruptcy. When my stepdad was able to find a job there, near his family, working at a large factory, they decided to make the move. I miss my mom every day, but I know they had to do what they felt was best.

  “Mila, how are you?” My mom’s voice sounds rough, her breathing heavy and ragged. She was diagnosed with lung cancer right after they moved and is currently going through chemotherapy. I wish I could be there with her, but I’m thankful that her husband is taking care of her. She’s mentioned wanting to move back here one day, but I know that financially they still aren’t in a good place.

  “Mom.” I sigh.

  “Talk to me, sweetie.” I could already feel the tears welling up from deep inside and at her words, they course down my cheeks. I tell her about my lack of sex life, the guy hitting on me at the hospital, and how good it felt to be looked at—even if he’s someone I would never date. I tell her how stupid I feel for trying to initiate sex with my husband, only to have him turn me down.

  “Oh, Mila. You know I hate to talk bad about your dad—God rest his soul—but you know we divorced shortly after you started middle school. I loved your father, and I believe in his own way he loved me too, but we weren’t in love with each other. One day I woke up and decided I no longer wanted to settle, so we got divorced.”

  My parents’ divorce was anything but amicable. My mom chose to divorce my dad, leaving him bitter and mad, which led to my parents arguing all the time, to the point they couldn’t even stand being in the same room with each other. It’s a lot of the reason why I married Gavin when we found out I was pregnant. I wanted my son to grow up in a two-parent loving household.

  “Mom, are you telling me to divorce Gavin?” I’m shocked she would tell me this. She knows how hard the divorce was on me. As an only child, I was torn between my parents from the day my mom kicked my dad out, until the day he died from a stroke a year ago.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I know the divorce was hard on you, and I wish we could’ve gotten along better for your sake. But even knowing how hard it was on everyone, I would’ve still made the same choice I did, because in the end I met Greg and I learned the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone.” And I know what she means, because while my parents didn’t get along, my mom was a much happier person once my dad moved out. She became the life of the party, wanting to go away and go out more often. She made new friends and really started to enjoy and live her life. Then she met Greg, and I could see how different their relationship was—still is—in comparison to her marriage with my father. The giggles and smiles and way too much public displays of affection.

  “Oh, and the sex!” she adds, and I cringe.

  “Oh my god, Mom!” I screech, but inside I’m happy for her. “I don’t want to know about your sex life.”

  “Okay, okay. My point is, I know you love Alec and you’re an amazing mom, but being Mila, the mom, doesn’t mean you stop being Mila, the woman. You need to put yourself first. You have needs and wants, and life is too short to simply settle, sweetie pie.” She lets out a loud cough, which reminds me that our conversation needs to end soon. Her cancer has caused emphysema, and she has to be on oxygen to help with her breathing.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes as I think about what she said. Gavin and I have tried counseling, and he’s promised repeatedly to try harder, but he never does. And I know it’s not just him; it’s me too…I’ve changed. I’ve grown up. I’m not the same person at twenty-two as I was at sixteen when we met, or at eighteen when I got pregnant.

  “Oh god, Mom.” I sniffle, the reality hitting me smack in the face. The tears are racing down my cheeks, and I would give anything to be with my mom right now so she could hold me.

  “He’s a good man, Mila,” she says, “He provides for you. The two of you are giving Alec a wonderful home. Maybe Gavin is the one for you, but maybe he’s not. Just take some time to think about what will make Mila happy. Don’t stay in a marriage you aren’t happy in just for your son. It may not be the popular answer, but it’s mine. One day your son will look to you to provide an example of what love looks like. What type of example do you want to set for him?”

  There’s shuffling and then my mom says, “Oh, sweetie, Greg’s niece just got here to visit. Can I call you back later?”

  “Sure, Mom,” I choke out. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetie pie.”

  We hang up, and I head back upstairs to say goodnight to Gavin, who is still playing his computer game. He doesn’t notice my puffy eyes or red nose from crying. He barely even acknowledges me—his full focus on his game. I head back downstairs and lay down in our room, in our bed, where I fall asleep alone once again.

  Three days later, I get a call from my stepdad and he’s hysterically crying. He tells me my mom passed away in his arms. “She couldn’t breathe,” he says. He tells me the ambulance came and took her to the hospital where she was declared dead. It turns out she had an undetected blood clot. Three hours later, I’m flying to Oklahoma to attend her funeral. Six months later, I am filing for divorce, and six months after that, I’m a single mom. “Life is too short to simply settle,” my mom said, and in memory of my mom, I refuse to ever settle again.

  One

  Mila

  Present day

  “Have you gotten any new bites?” my best friend and roommate Charlie asks, causing me to flush with embarrassment at her question. I know she doesn’t mean any harm by it, but admitting I’m on a dating site when I’m surrounded by hot guys who can get any woman they want is embarrassing.

  “Bites?” Mason asks, and I roll my eyes. Yep! I’m talking about that Mason. The one who eye-fucked me in the hospital five years ago, who made me question my marriage and appeared in several of my fantasies over the years, and in case you’re wondering…because I know you are—no, we’ve never slept together nor will we ever. He’s just as much of a manwhore as I knew he was all those years ago, maybe even worse.

  He’s also the best friend of my best frie
nd’s fiancé. I met Charlie when she came into the hospital with Mason and Lexi. Lexi is short for Alexandria. Are you putting the pieces together yet? It’s a small damn world. Charlie and Tristan were dating—now engaged—and Lexi broke her wrist, and through the ordeal Charlie and I became fast friends.

  The only problem is, Mason lives with Tristan, and Charlie lives with me. Well, until March when they get married, then they’ll be living together, and I’ll need to find a new roommate.

  “Yes, bites!” I say, a few octaves too high. Mason throws his hands up in surrender and I grab a chip to stuff in my mouth before I say something that is so not kid-friendly.

  Charlie’s daughter, Georgia, and Tristan’s daughter, Lexi, come running down the hall with Alec chasing them. “Daddy! Save me!” Lexi yells, grabbing her dad by his waist. “Alec has the cooties and is trying to give it to Georgia and me!”

  “I don’t have the cooties!” Alec yells.

  “Do so!” Georgia chimes in.

  With Charlie and her daughter living with us while she and Tristan plan their wedding, it’s never a dull moment in this house. Between my eight-year-old and her four-year-old plus Tristan’s five-year-old, the place is always loud and crazy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I glance over at Tristan and Charlie. They’re sitting close to each other, his arm is around her, love evident in both their eyes. Almost four years ago my divorce went through. Gavin and I sat down and discussed it, and thankfully, our divorce was nothing like my parents. He agreed to everything I asked for. We decided since it was my grandmother’s money that made it possible for us to purchase this home, I would get it. He moved into a condo down the street, and we split the custody of Alec, fifty-fifty. We settled on child support—enough to keep me afloat, but not too much that it would pull him under. He’s actually become a more hands-on father with Alec as well. On the couple nights during the week and on the weekends he has him, for the most part, he gives him his attention.