No Regrets (No Regrets #1)

by Heather Allen

  No Regrets

  By: Heather Allen

  No Regrets

  Copyright © 2014 by Heather Allen. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: July 2014

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1500298937

  ISBN-10: 150029893X

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To all of my readers!

  May you always fight for what you want no matter how small!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Prologue

  A brief tap on my leg from my opponent wrapped tightly in my grasp sets things into slow motion. I watch the black material of the referee’s uniform shirt shift as his hand comes down onto the mat in an emphatic slap. The sound echoes through the floor, signaling the end of the round, the end of all of my fights at this level. I realize in that moment that this is it, the instant when all of the hard work and pain I’ve put forth has been redeemed. The flourish of movement under my arms and legs force my firm grip to loosen, bringing me out of a momentary daze. The dark-skinned opponent rolls away in one swift move. A sneer crosses the man’s bloodied mouth as he looks back over and tries to push to a standing position. I take a deep breath with the reality of what has just happened crashes into me. I won. The final bout that will push me up to face the big dogs is over and I’ve come out on top.

  A smile spreads as I inhale and stand on stiff legs. The referee raises my arm to an astounding echo of applause, loud whistling and yelling, “Winner by unanimous decision, Greylan Pace!” The words roll out of his mouth in a drawn out statement.

  I hear my last name echo through the crowd as I try to focus past the lights. My eyes scan the arena in wonderment. The moment I trained my entire life for has finally come to fruition. Still not believing that it’s done, my breath leaves my mouth in a rush. Three rounds was all it took and I will propel forward to a UFC fight in Vegas.

  Carlo, my trainer, meets me at the cage door and leads us through the screaming fans pushing forth papers, books, and body parts; anything for me to sign. I stop mid-stride as I scribble my name a few times but Carlo backtracks to grab my arm and pulls me forward through the throngs of people. I can’t seem to wipe the smile from my face but I don’t want to.

  Once in the locker room, the first person I see is my long time childhood friend, Meyer Hansen, a huge sloppy grin spread across his face, which is his usual expression regardless of the circumstance. Today though, he can smile as much as he wants. He pulls me into a tight hug and claps my back. “I knew you’d do it, brother. Congratulations, Grey, you deserve this. Your parents would be so proud.”

  I nod while taking a deep breath to keep my emotions at bay. I pull out of his grasp and divert my attention to the others in the room. Carlo has settled on a bench taking it all in. A wide grin is plastered across his face as he fiddles with a roll of tape. He has earned this win just as much as I have.

  My manager, James Turner, better known as Jimmy T, stands against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets, no doubt jonesing for a cigarette. Further away, situated on a bench across the small room is Trinity, my sister and biggest fan. I skirt around the others and approach her as she stands apprehensively. Her hands twist uncomfortably as her dark brown hair falls across her face, she looks up in nervous anticipation.

  She pushes her hair out of her wide brown eyes and says excitedly, “I’m going to assume you won?”

  “Of course I won, kid, I told you not to worry. It was as easy as cake.” My eyes meet her warm smile as I pull her into my arms. “I do wish you’d come out of here and watch a fight, though.” I lower my mouth to kiss the top of her head.

  She shakes her head against my broad chest and admits, “I always worry too much, you know that, Grey. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you ever got hurt. I can’t watch that. I’d rather wait here for you to tell me how you won.”

  I lean forward, pushing her a few steps away, and place my first finger flat against her nose, causing a laugh to escape her lips and her body to squirm away. It’s usually my way of easing her worry, or changing the subject. Her nose is flat, resembling our mother’s. When I tease her by ‘squashing’ it with my finger, she usually ends up in a rapture of laughter, skirting away from my reach. This time is no different.

  “Well, let me tell you how it happened then. I took him from the back like this.” I pull her back into my chest. “And then my arm came up near his neck like this.” My forearm rises to her thin neck. “And I squeezed.” My arms release her as I add, “Of course we were on the floor and our legs were tangled up in some awkward way.”

  She laughs at my demonstration. “Yeah, just a bunch of full grown men rolling around on a mat together. I still think there might be something wrong with that scenario.”

  I attempt to reach for her again but she ducks away. She states coolly, “No regrets.”

  “Nope, no regrets, Trin, definitely no regrets.” My smile widens.

  Jimmy T diverts our attention. “Okay, Champ, we are officially moving on. It’s the big time now.”

  Those words mean so much to me. I have to focus on breathing for a moment as it sinks in that I actually won. The final match that will decide my fate is over. In the back of my head I always knew I’d get to this point. I pushed so hard to get here but the fact that this is the actual moment strikes me as surreal. Jimmy strides up, clapping me on the back, and announces, “We need to talk strategy now, right, Carlo? The next fights aren’t going to be a walk in the park like this one.” Jimmy’s northern accent comes out more pronounced as he prattles on about the next fight.

  Meyer speaks up before anyone else can get to me. He slides his arm across my shoulder. “Actually, Jimmy, Grey needs a chance to celebrate. Just give him tonight, and then tomorrow you can talk strategy and planning all you want. Let me have him for the night. It’s not every day my boy makes it to the pro circuit.”

  Jimmy begins to protest, “Now is not the time to celebrate, we need to hit it hard…”

  Carlo cuts him off. “Actually, Jimmy, I think it’s a good idea. Let Grey go out and have this moment. It’s a big win for him. He deserves it.”

  These words from Carlo are a surprise to all of us. I chuckle. “Did I really just hea
r you tell me to go out and celebrate?”

  “Yeah, dude, you deserve it.”

  “This is a first. I’m gonna take you up on it, though. I can’t focus on the next fight right now. I’m still letting it settle that we won this one.”

  “No, Grey, you won. All the work you’ve put in to get to this point has made all the difference, go out and enjoy this. But we’ll start training tomorrow. And you’re going to work your ass off.” Carlo chuckles to himself.

  I head straight to the shower, shaking my head as Meyer empties the locker room, assuring everyone he’ll watch over me and make sure I’m ready to start training in the morning.

  After I step out of the shower, refreshed and feeling even better, Meyer calls, “Hurry up, dude. I need a drink and we have a long drive ahead of us.” His voice echoes through the small space.

  I pull on dark jeans and fit a long sleeved, blue Henley over my head. My hand runs through my dark hair, leaving it jutting out in different directions on top. I slide my feet into low black boots, grab my gym bag, and walk out to the wide empty room where the match took place. As I pass, I glance at the cage, noting again that I’ve reached a huge goal and it feels so damn good.

  A few girls are lingering in the lot and their eyes brighten when I step out into the cool night and walk across the parking lot. They hurry over for autographs, which I rush through before trailing behind Meyer to his black ’67 Mustang. Angled with her arms across her chest is another girl. She has soft red hair, and is dressed in a barely there jean skirt and a gold tank top. A shy smirk forms on her mouth as we approach. She looks at me, scanning my body from head to toe and back again. As we get closer I notice that her eyes are green, not just any green, but vibrant and glistening with specks of gold floating through them. My feet falter and I miss a step. Her lips turn up in a smile as her eyes sweep over me again. My heart speeds up. A smile forms as I enjoy the obvious interest of this beautiful redhead.

  Meyer, who is the exact opposite of me with a shorter, slimmer physique, stammers, “Ah, I–I think we n-need to get on the road.”

  This distracts Red’s attention and she seems reluctant when she loops her arm through his. She looks back at me and calls over her shoulder, “Hey, congratulations. That was an exciting fight. You made it look so easy.”

  I smile uneasily this time. “Thanks.” I’m not sure who this chick is but I suddenly want to know her, and not just her name. As I follow them to the car I decide my first thoughts are right on, regardless of her name. Red fits her.

  Meyer parts from the girl once we near the car and introduces her with some hesitation. “Um, Greylan Pace, I’d like you to meet Mollie Andrews.”

  Her name doesn’t do her justice. The name I’ve made up for her, Red, is definitely more appropriate. I take her hand in mine and make a big deal of leaning in to kiss it, causing a flourish of pink to spread across her cheeks. Meyer shakes his head, urging, “Okay, Casanova, let’s get going and celebrate before I have to beat your ass for hitting on my girl.”

  Shit, Meyer, you had to go and say it, didn’t you? Fuck! My lips move in a smirk to hide my disappointment that he called her his girl. My eyes move to Mollie one last time before climbing into the backseat. Something about this girl intrigues me. But I have to push it away because she’s obviously with my friend. Instead I taunt him, “An ass beating from you, that would be interesting.”

  We speed the hour and a half back home to East Brunswick. While the car moves I listen to her soft voice in the front seat as Meyer attempts to make small talk. Where the hell did he find this one? She’s nothing like what he usually brings around. She actually has a brain as far as I can tell. It pisses me off even more that he claimed her as his girl. What the hell am I thinking? Are we cavemen or something? Claiming a girl? What the fuck is wrong with me?

  The scenery changes as we pass into the central part of New Jersey. It’s fall so the air is chilly and the trees have changed, shedding their summer greens for autumn yellows and oranges. Some are even bare already. The buildings grow as the car glides closer to Brunswick. Meyer maneuvers down a side street with very little traffic. He turns again onto a darkened stretch with the lights on the far end of the street in neon colors glaring off the windows of local shops. It’s the only light to be seen on that end of the street. The sign advertises, Brutus’ Bar. I shake my head at his choice. Of all the places we could have gone, he chooses this one. I guess the obvious pick would be Brutus’, situated in the depths of our old stomping grounds. He turns to me as he parks and asks, “You good with Brutus’?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No, not really.” He laughs and grabs Mollie’s hand.

  When we step into the bar, applause sounds throughout the building. It’s packed with old friends. Obviously he set this up. I glare toward him before walking through the throng of congratulations. When I turn back I catch Mollie’s glance before greeting my friends. She’s holding Meyer’s hand and it pisses me off. A flourish of shots line the bar in salute to the win. The distraction is welcome. This chick getting under my skin is the last thing I need right now. Before the first shot I turn to Meyer and ask, “What if I would’ve lost? All this shit would’ve been depressing.”

  He pushes his dark hair from his eye and glances around the bar.

  “Nah, bro, they all woulda been here to cheer you up. Besides, I knew you’d win. You’re gonna go all the way to the top now.”

  He leans in to Mollie and whispers something into her ear before excusing himself. She nods, sweeping her eyes toward me before timidly looking away again. I can’t help the smile that reaches my lips. One minute Red is friendly and open and the next she’s shy again. I want to pull her to me and taste those plump pink lips but my feet stay planted where I am. She looks back over at me again, her hair falling across her eye. I take a tentative step, wanting to move it away, but Mickey Jones, an old family friend, fully grey and wrinkled now, comes up behind me and slaps my shoulder. He mumbles in a scratchy voice, “I remember when your mom put you in karate class at five. She wasn’t sure how you’d take to it. I guess this answers her question. I wish she could be here to see you today. She’d be so proud.”

  I force my eyes away from the angel only a few feet away and nod my appreciation at Mickey, wishing that my mom was here to see me. I don’t respond to his comment, though. My mom’s death is still fresh even though she passed two years ago. My fingers turn the glass in my hand before tipping it back. I grab another and slide that one back as well. I scan the room, glad for the crowd of friends all around me. The thoughts running through my head about Red would not be good for my friendship with Meyer and that’s more important than any girl. We’ve known each other for most of our lives.

  A few more friends walk up to congratulate me. After a while I search the area around the bar for the redhead that seems to linger on the edges of my thoughts, but she has disappeared, just as Meyer had earlier.

  “Fuck it,” I mumble to myself and decide it’s a moot point. I force my feet to move and begin to catch up with old friends that have been around here my entire life, it seems. For a while the only thing that matters is my win and my future in fighting.

  A couple hours later a hand encircles my arm. I turn at the touch to find those green eyes staring up at me. I can’t help a smile from spreading. She gestures for me to lean over and she whispers into my ear, “I’m not Meyer’s girl.”

  I wait to see if she’ll say anything else but her mouth is pressed in a soft line.

  My head turns into her ear and I ask, “Do you think that’s important information for me to know?” When I pull away, my grin challenges her.

  She pulls me closer again so I can hear her over the loud voices surrounding us.

  “It might be influential for you.” She leans away with the dare, the gold in her eyes dancing around.

  I don’t want to utter the next words but I can’t help it. Meyer has been a part of my life for a long time. As much as
I want in this girl’s panties, I can’t do that to my friend. I resist the protest of my body and ask, “Does Meyer know you aren’t his girl?”

  She hesitates. “Yes.” Which wasn’t convincing enough. This is such a mind fuck. Every inch of my body is intrigued by this woman but I can’t shake the voice in the back of my head telling me to walk away. I place my hand on her shoulder in an attempt to put some much needed space between us. “Excuse me for a minute. I’ll catch up with you two in a little bit.” I take a tentative step away and let my hand fall from her skin. Maybe if things were different or she was sure, but I can’t do something that I will regret later, not tonight.

  I don’t wait for the obvious disappointment that will be evident on her face. I force myself to walk away with as much strength as I can muster. A few more shots and I might not have been able to do it. But my friend is worth it to me. He’s a sensitive one and if he’s convinced this girl is into him, he would never forgive me for hitting on her. We have gone after the same girls in the past and I’ve always been the first one to pull back. I’m not sure that would be the case this time and I can’t risk it.

  A couple of hours into the night, when I’ve had a good amount to drink and played a few rounds of pool with some of our old friends, I start to look for Meyer and Red. I haven’t seen either one of them in a while. A part of me is pissed because I suspect that they’re possibly all over each other somewhere, especially since I pretty much rejected her. I’m tired and ready to go home; ready to try and forget about her. My focus needs to be on training tomorrow for the next fight. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything else right now.

  I push my body through the bar in search of them. It’s a small space littered with old historical pictures of the bar and surrounding areas. Brutus has held a long standing position in the city over the years. His bar is the only place left of the ‘Old Town’, as he affectionately calls it. He thinks it’s his duty to remind everyone of how things used to be.