by Mandi Beck
Taking my hands from behind my head, she places them on her round belly, lacing our fingers. “We need you, Deac. I love you, let me in. Let me try to help you,” Frankie says to me gently. With tears in her eyes, she takes my face in her hands. “I can’t bring him back. God, I fucking would if I could. But we have to try to learn to live without him. Not forget him, we never could, but he would want us to live. You’re not living, baby.” Leaning forward she places a kiss to my lips, her own salty from the tears trailing down her cheeks and over our fused mouths.
I tangle my fingers in her hair, cradling her head and pressing her tighter to me. I’ve needed her. Maybe I was afraid to let her help me through this because that would mean forgetting my brother. She’s right though. We don’t have to forget him—we just have to live. Living’s not forgetting.
I pull back and let my eyes roam over her face, every beauty mark, and smile line. With the pad of my thumb, I rub away the moisture our kiss left on her bottom lip. “Okay,” I vow, releasing my hold on the silky strands of her hair and tucking it behind her ears.
She watches as I throw my legs over the side of the bed. I can’t have her hands on me if I’m going to get through this next part. “I’m going to grab a drink. Do you want something?” I ask, placing a kiss to her wrist.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
“Be right back, baby.”
I go into my office to the bar and pull out a tumbler, filling it with Scotch. I need a moment to get my thoughts together. Glass in hand, I walk back into our room, over to the window. Sipping slowly, I welcome the burn of the liquid. “Would you still love me if I gave up fighting?” Frankie is bewildered by my question, I can see it on her face reflected in the window pane. It’s something that I’ve thought about a lot lately though and I need to see where she stands.
“I don’t love you because you fight for a living, Deacon. I love you because you’re a fighter,” she says calmly like I’m supposed to know what the fuck she means.
My brows drawn in confusion, I turn so that I’m facing her and lean against the sill. Ankles crossed, I watch her over the rim of my glass as I sip. Assessing her words and trying to decipher them. “Isn’t that the same fucking thing?”
“Not at all.” After a few seconds of watching me and expecting me to pick up on her damn riddle, she stands and places her hands where her hips should be. “Where is this coming from, Deacon? Why now? Fighting inside that Cage is all you ever wanted. You’ve been training since you were just a little damn kid. Why now?”
“He was my team. My coach, my brother. He was wrapped up in all of it. I don’t know how to do any of it without Sonny,” I admit, throwing back the rest of my drink. Saying it out loud makes me feel weak, like a quitter. But I feel hollow. I have this huge void and fighting isn’t filling it right now. “I don’t know if I want to.”
Watching me closely, she says, “You asked me if I would love you if you gave up fighting. Well, you can’t give up fighting because it’s who you are. You’re full of passion and heat, determination and honor, and that’s what makes you a fighter. You’re fighting whether you’re in that Cage or out. It’s what I love about you most. You fight for everything you believe in. You never stop fighting.” Smiling sadly she continues, “So, yes I’d still love you if you never fought on a stage again. If you never stepped foot in the Octagon. But you’ll never not be a fighter. And I’ll never not love you.” Still smiling she adds, “You’re kinda stuck with me, Love.”
“No one else I’d rather be stuck with, Princess,” I say honestly. Maybe, just maybe, with her in my corner I can do this. My girl will help me. No more trying to do it on my own. She’s my team too.
“Chin down, Hitman! Get your fucking feet under you. Where’s your power?” Leo’s frustration is evident. “What the hell are you doing? You’re not following through with your hits. You’re giving me ‘tap, tap, tap.’ I need ‘BANG, BANG, BANG!’” he shouts, slapping his mitts together. “Come on now.”
His voiced raised, he goes to the middle of the Cage and puts his hands back up. “Let’s go,” Leo demands, waiting expectantly.
My chest rises and falls in exertion and unwanted emotion. Inside is all fucking turmoil and crashing waves. All of it way more taxing than the drills he’s putting me through. “No,” I say quietly, walking away, yanking my gloves off. Mav is standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. Frankie sitting in a chair beside him. Exactly where she’s been since we spoke the other night. Silently cheering me on and supporting me.
“No, what, Deacon?” Leo calls after me. “No, you don’t want to spar? No, you don’t want to hit me harder? No, what, man?” I hear his mitts hit the canvas. “I’ve been here for nearly a week and you’ve given me this half-assed shit. We leave for Vegas in two days, bro. In two weeks you’re going to be fighting the most important fight of your career, and honestly, I don’t think you’re ready.”
On the other side of the ring, I fold my arms and lean against the top rope. Chin resting on my forearm, I let what he’s saying sink in.
“He’s right, bro,” Mav adds. “Your form is off; you’re not giving even fifty percent right now and you need to be going at one hundred and fifty if you’re going to beat Rude Awakening. It’s all about that fire right now, Deac. Time to bring it.”
My eyes on the Frankie, I search her face, looking for strength, the words, for the answers to explain. She smiles and nods in encouragement. “It feels wrong. All of it just feels wrong,” I admit quietly. “I don’t want to do this without him.” I grab a hold of the ropes and straighten. “There’s no fire left. I keep searching for it, waiting and hoping that it’ll show up. But it doesn’t.” Pulling my hair free, I gather it all back up and tie it into a bun, my hands needing to be busy.
“You know I get that, bro, I do. But you’re not the only one who lost a brother. You think that it doesn’t kill me every day to walk in this gym and know that he isn’t here to talk shit over with. To bitch about your ass to?” Mav snorts out a frustrated breath. “This isn’t only about you. I need this too, Deacon.” He slaps his rolled up notebook against his leg. “I need this to feel like I’m not letting him down. He would never let you give up like this. So I won’t either.” I can hear the emotion clogging his throat.
I clear my own, trying to rid myself of those same feelings. “How? How do I do that?” The clack of Frankie’s heels against the hardwood has me turning to face her. She makes her way toward me; climbing the steps of the ring, she hugs the post in the corner, her blues locked on me.
“You fight. From the inside out, you fight,” she says simply.
Leo moves to stand beside Frankie. “Men aren’t made into fighters, Deacon. Your brother didn’t make you the incredible warrior that you are. He helped to mold you, taught you how to respect the art, honed the skills that you were born with. You can do this. I know that you feel like you can’t win without him, but you were born a winner. You were born to wear that belt, and Sonny knew it. Don’t quit on him because you think he’s not here, that none of it matters without him. He is here,” he says slapping a hand to his chest, holding it over his heart. “And it matters more now than it ever did. You do this for you and you do this for Sonny. Let’s win this thing, together. For your brother.”
I glance over to where Mav is standing, his baseball hat pulled low over his face, trying to shield his hurt from the rest of us. "For my brothers," I say past the lump in my throat and nod.
Since Frankie’s already been cleared for travel, we leave a day earlier for Vegas. All of us. My pop and Guy included. I just want to get there and start training hard. It always takes me at least two days to get acclimated to the climate change there, plus we have a lot of promo stuff going on. Mav and Leo were right—I haven’t been giving it my all and was ready to throw in the towel on my whole career. My heart still hurts, my chest heavy with a shit ton of sadness that I think will always be with me, but I need to channel all of that shitt
iness into my training.
To save some time, and to get me into the gym sooner, we decided to take the private plane. Besides, the Princess is so wicked pregnant, it’ll make travel a little easier on her. Once word gets out that we’re here, it’s gonna be a total clusterfuck. We’ve lain so low since we lost Sonny that the media is gonna be in a frenzy now that we’ve resurfaced. They all smell a story and like the vultures they are, they’ll do anything to get it. Mav and I went over everything earlier. How much we’re willing to talk about, what answers I’ll give, and when he’ll interject. I won’t have Sonny’s death made into a circus. I’ll have to keep my head with the media. Having Frankie there will help though.
As we start our descent, I look over at my dad lost in thought, watching the lights come into view below us.
“Pop? You okay?” I keep my voice down so I don’t wake my girl just yet.
“I’m okay, just ready to get in the gym with you, son.” He smiles sadly at me and goes back to looking out the window. He’s been quiet, handling his grief in his own way. Being in the gym training has helped. Like Mav, I think just being submersed in work makes the loss of his eldest son a little more bearable.
“You awake, Princess?” I ask, taking her hand and flipping it to pop a quick kiss to her wrist.
Frankie smiles sleepily. “Yes, I’m hungry though,” she tells me, running her hands over her belly. I can’t believe that I missed so much. Not being able to see past my own grief cost me a lot of memories that I can’t get back. I’m gonna have to work double time to make new ones to make up for it.
I place my hands over hers. “I really am so sorry I wasn’t around for the last six weeks. Hopefully we can do another ultrasound of the girls when we get back home.” Just saying that out loud is scary. Two babies. Two. It’s not even the thought of more than one baby that scares me. It’s the thought of more than one teenager that has me ready to buy an island to live on until they’re forty-five and I might think about letting them date.
“I’ve already made an appointment for you to get a look at the boys the moment we get back.” Smiling cheekily, she leans forward and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “It’s good to see you smile, Deac. We’re going to get through this. We all are. Right after you kick the shit out of Saul ‘Rude Awakening’ Ares.”
“So violent you are. It’s because you’re so small, right?” I tease. It does feel good to smile, and she’s right—we will get through this.
Stick and move. Stick and motherfucking move.
The heat here is oppressive. I feel like I’ve been thrust into a fire it’s so damn hot. Of course that could just be because I am extremely pregnant, a little swassy and a whole lot swooby right now too. Clearly been hanging around Indie too much, making up words for sweaty boobs and whatnot. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m in the air-conditioned gym, looking like a sweaty mess I’m sure. Like I said, swass and swoobs, while Deac is looking like a ridiculously gorgeous god of fighting or something, flipping a tire the size of an SUV around outside. It’s honestly not fair for any one man to be that beautiful.
I place my hands on the small of my back, lean my head against the glass and just watch. The muscles in his back and shoulders ripple with every flip. The waistband of his gray sweatpants black with his sweat. I would die if I had to wear pants in this heat. Leo insists that he has to sweat, a lot. Something about impurities and maintaining healthy weight. Honestly, I stopped listening after he said “sweat.” It’s the end of August, in Vegas. Just thinking about it has me sweating.
“Stop eye fucking your man out there. It’s gross and I’m pretty sure your kids know what you’re thinking,” Indie says with a little hip bump. I asked her to come with for moral support, though she said she had been coming anyway.
“Oh my God, shut up,” I sputter. “I was not eye fucking him.” I bust out laughing at the lie. “Okay, I was. But I was also thinking hateful shit about the heat.”
“Stop being such a baby. Go and bake by the pool,” she suggests.
“First of all, hell no. Second of all, I want to be here for Deacon.”
“How’s he doing? Mav is doing better now that they’re back to training,” Indie says, glancing over at me.
Lips pursed in thought, I answer. “He’s better. Sometimes he’s just going, doing his thing, completely engrossed with whatever it is he’s doing right then, and then a minute later I look at him and he looks lost. Like he’s ready to bolt first chance he gets,” I confide sadly. “It seems to get a little better, day by day though. Leo being here helps. He sees what I see, and when Deacon gets that look on his face, Leo pushes him harder. So far it’s working.” I smile softly watching Deacon roll the tire right into the back of Mav who is on the phone, probably with Carter dealing with the press and promo. Mav stumbles, flips Deacon off, and then goes back to his call.
“And you? How are you holding up, mama?” There’s a gentleness in her voice that you don’t get often with Indie.
“I’m surviving. I’m sad and I cry a lot, but I try to make sure he doesn’t see it. I still feel guilty about the whole thing, even though I know it wasn’t my fault. My doctor suggested that I see a therapist when I get back. I think I’m going to. Maybe I’ll see if Deacon wants to go too.” I haven’t mentioned the therapist to him yet—one thing at a time, and right now, this fight is everything.
“Ha! Deacon isn’t going to lie on a couch and pour his heart out to a complete stranger unless you’re blowing him,” she laughs. Snarky bitch.
“Whatever. He might.” She’s totally right. “Thanks for coming, Indie. I needed you here with me,” I say to my friend, switching gears.
“I know it. I wasn’t going to miss this. I mean, this is a big fucking deal, but you and the babies do need auntie Indie too. Everyone has someone to unload on, depend on, except you right now.” She turns her back to the glass, leaning against it, facing me. “All jokes aside, Frankie. I’m here for whatever. You stay strong for Deac, and I’ll stay strong for you.”
“You’re busy staying strong for Mav,” I tell her coyly.
“I’m a multitasker; I can be strong for all you cunts.”
“Ahhhhh, there she is. There’s my ride-or-die chick. All that sweetness and I was getting worried that you’d been abducted by aliens,” I laugh.
“Dude. It might be fun. As long as they keep their weird Martian dicks and anal probes to themselves, I’m down,” she deadpans.
“Stop, Imma pee.” I’m laughing so hard now a snort slips out which makes me laugh just that much harder as she stands there calmly watching me.
“You’re the one into anal probing now, not me,” she teases.
“Just the tip, right, Princess?” Deacon says from behind me.
I jump, covering my face in embarrassment as Leo and Mav stand there with looks of fascination and terror, respectively.
Indie snickers beside me, “That’s not what I heard.”
“Holy fucking fuck. Someone make this stop, please?” Mav pleads.
“Seriously, you guys are such asses.” I try to sound pissy, but I can barely contain my own laughter.
“You’re lucky we have a press conference to get to, otherwise we might have to discuss this further, Princess,” Deac jokes, taking my hand and guiding me to the door.
“I have never been so grateful for one of these things in my life,” Mav mutters, leading us all out of the gym.
“Don’t think we’re not gonna talk about this more later, baby,” Deac whispers in my ear. Laughing at my embarrassment, he gives my ass a slap as I walk ahead of him. I glance back at him to find him staring at my ass.
“Eyes up here, Hitman,” I taunt.
“Not my fault. You girls started it,” he insists as he helps me into the truck. “I can’t wait to finish it though.” Deac winks and closes the door.
A couple of hours later and we’re all headed to the press conference in a limo. Not because we’re that important, but because there are so many of u
s. It seems to make Deacon more at ease if we’re all together, so I’ve been doing my best to make sure that we all go wherever he goes.
Deacon slides out first, holding out a hand to help me. I take hold of his hand and pull myself across the seat, maneuvering my burgeoning belly and doing my best to keep my ass covered in my dress at the same time. It’s no easy feat. Finally out, I smack Deac on the chest when I see him smothering a smile with his hand and a laugh with a fake cough.
“You got it, Princess?” he asks, beaming at me. I can’t even be mad at him. I’m just so thrilled that he’s happy tonight. I know that this press conference is going to be a nightmare for him. We’ve done extremely well evading the news teams, so he’s prepared for mayhem as soon as he sits behind the mic. As we walk, Deacon puts me between him and Reggie, Indie between Deacon and Mav. Everyone else following behind us, Trent bringing up the rear. We make our way through the crowd that’s formed outside of the MGM Grand for the press conference. Since it’s open to fans as well, there are quite a few people already here.
“Stay close, Princess. Don’t make me knock heads, yeah?” I nod and tuck myself into Reggie’s back, while Deacon boxes me in. “I just don’t want you to get jostled or anything, okay?”
We make our way through the crowd, Deacon stopping to sign autographs and take pictures with the kids yelling his name. He makes me smile from the inside out when he turns down the women asking him to sign their cleavage or calling out to him to marry, date, fuck them. More than one woman screams out to him, “Hitman, I want to have your baby!”