Moments passed as he lay there watching her, struggling to rein it in. Finally, when he thought he might be able to speak without choking up, he laid his hand over the one picking nervously at the thread. “Kat, look at me.”
Her emerald eyes shot to his. The uncertainty and regret reflecting back at him sent his pulse spiking with anxiety. His monitor began beeping at a whole new level, and he shot an impatient glower at the damn thing. When he looked back, it was to find Katie watching him with tears in her eyes. His chest tightened. The pain from his gunshot wound paled in comparison to the heartache he’d been living with for the last week. The pain made infinitely worse by seeing that same suffering reflected back at him now.
What the hell was the matter with him? He was a fighter, dammit, so why was it so fucking hard to fight for her? Taking a deep breath and steeling his resolve, he went for it. And to his surprise, so did she.
“I’m sorry,” they said in unison, and then responded at the same time, “It wasn’t your fault.”
They both smiled at the cheesiness of it and her little bubble of laughter helped break the mounting tension. “Why don’t you go first,” he offered. When her nervousness seemed to creep back in, he took her hand, holding it between his, and waited patiently for her to speak.
“I don’t know where to start, Cole,” she confessed softly. “You were right. I was scared and I overreacted in Vegas. Trust doesn’t come easy for me, and when I felt you’d broken mine, I freaked out. It just made too much sense, why a guy like you would pretend to be interested in someone like me.”
He scowled. “What do you mean, ‘a guy like me’?”
“Look at you, Cole. You’re famous, you’re gorgeous, and you’re really a great guy. And I’m . . . I’m a mess. I can’t compete with the beautiful women you have throwing themselves at you day in and day out.”
“It was never a competition, Kat. And even if it was, you’d have won, hands down, every time. I told you, I love you—”
“I know.” A tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away.
“I’ve never said those words to another woman in my life. I’ve never had unprotected sex with another woman, I’ve never chased halfway across the country for another woman. I don’t know what more I can do to convince you of how I feel.”
“Nothing. There’s nothing you could have done. God, Cole, I’m so sorry. I was hurt, I was scared, so I ran—just like I always do. You were too good to be true. I guess deep down, I was looking for a reason to prove this wasn’t real, that when it came right down to it, you couldn’t be trusted—”
He’d suspected as much, but hearing her admit it was no fucking picnic. It only showed him how far he had to go to win her heart—to prove to her that she could trust him. It was a challenge he was up for, because the alternative was inconceivable. Anything worth having was worth fighting for, right? He’d been so damn miserable this last week he honestly didn’t think he could live without her.
“—But I was wrong, Cole. You came back for me. You saved my life.” Her voice broke and a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry I doubted your love, and now . . . I’m scared it’s too late.”
When those big heart-wrenching tears spilled over her lids and rolled down her cheeks, it broke him. Fuck . . . Reaching for her with his good arm, he pulled Katie against him, slipped his hand into her silky hair, and held her as the last of her walls finally crumbled and she broke down. For the longest time he lay there holding her, letting her cry it out.
“Shh . . .” he soothed, gently rubbing his hand up and down her back. “It’s not too late. Baby, I was coming back for you before I even knew Carter had been released.”
She lifted her head and peered up at him with watery, red-rimmed eyes, and dried her blotchy, tear-stained cheeks with her palms. “You were?” she asked, sounding so fragile and hopeful, his heart clenched with the need to hold her tighter.
“Yeah, I was. I couldn’t stand being apart from you. I missed you so damn much, Kat. I was coming back to convince you to give us a chance—to prove to you that I love you, and what happened between us had nothing to do with your uncle. I didn’t find out about the Carter thing until I was almost at the airport. Then I raced here as fast as I could when I couldn’t reach you, praying I wouldn’t be too late.”
“And then you got shot!”
The tears started anew, and Cole suspected they wouldn’t be able to talk about last night without those waterworks for quite some time.
“It’s my fault you were shot. That bullet was meant for me!”
“Hey, it isn’t your fault. You didn’t pull that trigger, and you cannot keep letting that bastard come between us. I don’t blame you, Kat, and you can’t blame yourself, either.”
“We’ll see if you’re still saying that six months from now. Cole, your shoulder was shattered. The doctor said you may never fight again. Your career could be over because of me.”
“Hey,” he slipped his knuckle beneath her chin, tipping her head and holding her verdant stare. “I’ve been through this before, Kat, doctors telling me I might not fight again. But you know what? Even if they’re right and I don’t get back in the cage, it’s all right, because I finally found something I love more than my career. As long as I have you, sweetheart, I can be happy no matter what I’m doing. Besides, I’m not going to hang up my gloves yet. I know a great PT.”
Twelve Months Later
“Well, folks, we have a sold-out house in the MGM tonight! It’s the grudge match you’ve all been waiting for, as the Beast of the East prepares to defend his title against Crazy Dan De’Grasse!”
The crowd cheered, the lights went down, and the strobes began to flicker. Katie couldn’t hear what the announcer said next over the pumped-up fans and booming bass of “Bodies” by Drowning Pool blasting from the speakers. It was Cole’s song. Butterflies battered her insides as she peered down the aisle from her front-row seat, waiting for her fighter to appear.
“Don’t worry, kid. He’s got this.” Uncle Marcus winked, nudging her with his elbow.
It wasn’t that she doubted he did. Cole was an amazing fighter, the best she’d ever seen, but he was about to get into the ring with a guy that didn’t fight by the rules. And she’d just spent the last year pouring herself into her fighter, into his body, his heart, and his soul. It wasn’t just Cole stepping into that cage tonight. She would feel every blow he took, every kick he weathered. He might win this fight, but at what cost?
This last year had undoubtedly been the best of her life. With the past finally behind her, she’d been able to embrace the future and, with Cole’s help, had begun to truly heal. He’d healed her emotionally, and she’d done her best to heal him physically. Tonight would be the test to see if she’d done her job well enough.
“I’ve already picked out the perfect spot at the gym to hang his belt,” Uncle Marcus told her, shouting above the noise.
“Right next to the first one?” she asked, grinning sarcastically.
“Nope, below it.”
She knew what he was doing, and it was working—trying to distract her, talking as if the win was already a done deal. Cole and Uncle Marcus had opened a CFA-sponsored gym nine months ago in St. Paul, Minnesota, a manageable commute from Somerset. Her father had partially recovered from his stroke, but not enough that Katie felt comfortable moving away, so Cole had bought her a beautiful house on the Apple River, complete with a white picket fence and a chocolate Labrador, but he’d told her he was drawing the line at a minivan. She’d laughed, wondering where that had come from, because she’d never once suggested they get one.
Cole’s contracts still required him to travel some, but she went with him whenever possible. The gym was an overnight success. Cole was busy coaching and training other fighters and CFA hopefuls, while Uncle Marcus focused on the management end of things. He was always scouting out new talent. Right now he had his eye on Tommy Thorson, who according to Cole, had a ton of heart and w
as showing a lot of promise, despite his knee injury.
Cole claimed a large portion of the gym’s success was due in part to her coming to work for him. There weren’t many gyms that also provided PT. Katie had her own portion of the gym specifically designed for rehab. Her client list was huge; her schedule was booked out months in advance. It’d been a great opportunity and career move, even if she was sleeping with her boss. But ultimately, the gym’s success was all Cole. Who wouldn’t want to train under the soon to be two-time CFA light-heavyweight champion?
Just as the crowd went wild, Kruze put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in close. “Here comes our boy!” He pointed down the aisle, and she followed Kruze’s arm, but Cole was hard to miss. The spotlight shone on him, flooding his path to the octagon. Katie watched as he walked down the stretch of carpet at a steady, determined clip. He did none of that hopping up and down, pump-yourself-up showboating. She knew that steely, determined look, and for a brief moment, she almost felt sorry for De’Grasse—almost.
Cole didn’t seem to notice the hands slapping his back, or the women pawing at him as he walked by. His determined stare was fixed solidly on that cage. As he approached, Katie’s pulse quickened. Lord, he was gorgeous—beautifully masculine and powerful . . . Everything feminine in her came alive at the sight of him, responding to him in the basest way. Damn, she was going to fuck his brains out when they got back to the hotel tonight.
Cole stopped beside them and his corner rushed in to “atta-boy” him, crowding in front of her. She took a step back to keep from getting knocked into, her hand protectively covering her stomach. Cole briefly acknowledged the guys, his icy-blue gaze searching . . . searching . . . and then locking on her. Moving forward, he stepped through the crowd and reached for her, slipping his hand around the back of her neck. He pulled her forward and crushed his mouth to hers in a quick, hard, possessive kiss, before pulling away to rest his forehead against hers. “I love you, Kat.”
“I love you, too.”
Lord, did she ever. She loved him so much it scared her, and now . . . for weeks she’d been keeping her secret, not wanting to do or say anything that would take his focus off this fight. Maybe tonight, when it was all over, and they were both sated and sweaty, she’d tell him. A part of her was nervous about doing it. She wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react. She hoped he’d be as thrilled as she was, but in truth, she wasn’t even sure Cole wanted children.
They’d been so careful, except for that one weekend two months ago when he’d picked her up after work and, instead of taking her home, he’d driven them straight up to Bayfield, where they’d spent the weekend tucked away in a little cabin on Lake Superior. He’d packed her clothes, but not her birth control pills. Oops . . .
In the background she heard one of the announcers exclaim, “Did you see that? It looks like Easton’s woman is in the crowd tonight, folks. I didn’t know he was seeing anyone, did you, Payton?”
“I think that’s his physical therapist,” the other announcer responded.
Cole stepped back and reached behind his head, tugging off his T-shirt emblazoned with Tapout, Under Armour, and the names of several other sponsors she wasn’t familiar with. He tossed it to Uncle Marcus, along with his baggy satin shorts, revealing a pair of form-fitting spandex. A small man stepped up to Cole and began spreading something greasy on his forehead and cheeks. She couldn’t hear what he said, but Cole nodded in response several times. Then, with one final glance her way, he turned and headed for the octagon.
Wham! Cole hit De’Grasse with an upper cut that sent him stumbling back into the cage. He could take the bastard down and finish it right now, but Cole wasn’t ready for this fight to end. They were in the second round and he’d barely broken a sweat. De’Grasse had tried to stand up and pound with him, but three minutes into the first round, it was obvious Cole was the superior boxer.
He’d trained hard for this, harder than he’d ever trained for a fight in his life, and he’d be damned if all that work, all the time he’d spent in the gym and away from Katie, was going to be blown in seven minutes. “Get up!” he yelled past his mouth guard, arms thrown wide in taunting frustration. The crowd went wild, but it wasn’t about them this time. He wasn’t here to give them a show. This was about Cole. This was about six months of misery he’d spent wondering if he’d ever fucking walk again. This was about proving, once and for all, who deserved to hold this fucking title.
Cole stepped back so that asshole would have no choice but to get up and fight, or be labeled the coward he truly was. De’Grasse pushed himself to his feet and shoved away from the cage. His gait was unsteady as he approached. Cole dropped his guard, begging the bastard to hit him. De’Grasse swung. Cole ducked and drove his fist into his side, swift satisfaction washing over him at the feeling of ribs cracking beneath his knuckles.
Ooohmf . . .
The whoosh of air leaving De’Grasse’s lungs was auditory coke, fueling Cole’s high and pumping the adrenaline through his veins.
De’Grasse stumbled.
“Finish him!” Marcus demanded, slamming his fist onto the mat.
Cole’s eyes searched past his coach and locked on Katie. In that brief moment, something inside him shifted. It was like a moment of pure fucking clarity. That woman sitting over there was his life—a life he never would have had if not for De’Grasse. Had Cole not been injured, he never would have met her and she would probably be dead. And with that change in perspective, all the pent-up emotion he’d been fighting with suddenly leached from his body—the anger, the hatred. The force relentlessly driving him for the last year and a half simply vanished with one look at her beautiful face.
It was a look he indulged in a moment too long, because he never saw that fist swinging for his head until it was too late. The blow came hard and solid, snapping his head to the side. An explosion of pain erupted in his jaw, and it took a moment for the cage to stop spinning. But when it did, De’Grasse was shooting for his hips to take him down. Apparently, the guy was done trying to stand up and bang with him, which was fine with Cole, because he was ready to end this now.
More than Cole wanted revenge and to punish De’Grasse, he wanted Katie. He wanted to skip the after-fight party, take his woman back to their hotel, and have a private celebration with her between the sheets. The fact that he was thinking about making love to Katie when he should be focusing on winning this fight told him two things: (a) he was completely pussy-whipped, and (b) he was so head over heels in love with this woman, it wasn’t even funny.
Over the last few weeks, she’d been acting a little strange. He hadn’t been around very much, practically living at the gym while either coaching or preparing for this fight, but he’d noticed something was different about her. She was acting funny. He sensed she wanted to tell him something, but she denied it every time he’d tried to ask her about it. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, he knew she was keeping something from him. What, he had no idea, but he’d get to the bottom of it tonight. He had ways of making her talk . . .
De’Grasse’s shoulder connected with Cole’s stomach, sending him back. He let De’Grasse take him to the mat and they landed with his torso between Cole’s legs and De’Gresse gave him a triumphant I got you now, fucker grin as he began raining fists and elbows down on Cole’s face. Cole did some of his best fighting on his back, and was more than prepared to weather the blows. He was doing a damn good job of it, too, when one elbow slipped by him and connected with Cole’s eyebrow, splitting it open. It didn’t hurt as much as it was annoying, because now he had to worry about getting blood in his eye, and the ref splitting them up for medical to look at it. He needed to end this quickly.
Grabbing De’Grasse’s right arm, Cole shoved it toward his right shoulder, controlling his center of gravity. Using the leverage on his arm, he shoved De’Grasse farther down, while Cole pushed his body up. Cole hooked his leg over De’Grasse’s shoulder and around his neck while lifting his other leg, and
locking his ankle around his knee, trapping De’Grasse’s head against his own outstretched arm.
De’Grasse kicked and flailed as Cole squeezed, struggling to get out of the triangle choke, but Cole held tight, waiting for the tap, the KO, or the ref to jump in and call the fight. A few seconds later, Cole felt the tap against his side, and the ref dove in pulling them apart. The crowd went wild, the cacophony of cheers nearly drowning out Payton’s proclamation, “Easton’s done it again! The still-reigning CFA Light-Heavyweight Champion, the Beast of the East, Cole Easton!”
His arm was raised, and someone wrapped a heavy belt around his waist as more cheering erupted from the stands. It all seemed a bit surreal. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over him as he searched the crowd for Katie, only half-listening to Payton. She was so small, she’d easily get lost in the sea of fighters—mostly his camp—flooding the octagon and joining the celebration. He worried about her getting hurt in the chaos.
A couple of refs flanked De’Grasse, making sure there would not be a repeat of the last fight. He was still pretty rocked and moving slow. Someone from his corner helped him to stand, ushering him out of the cage. Taking another sweep of the encroaching crowd, he searched for Katie. Fuck! He was turning to grab Marcus and ask him to help find her, when someone slammed into him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Before he could look down, her scent hit him—lavender and rosemary . . . and instantly, all became right in his world. Everything pulled into sharp focus as he wrapped his arms around her.
“You did it!” she cheered. “Oh, Cole, you were amazing!” Seeing the pride in her eyes, the love shining up at him nearly brought him to his knees. Right here on live TV, wearing the title belt, he’d hit the mat and tap out for her in a heartbeat. If she had any idea what she did to him, what she meant to him . . .
“Cole, you have made one of the greatest comebacks of all time in CFA history. Tell us how you did it.” Payton shoved a mic in his face, and the noise in the crowd dimmed to hear him speak.
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